Oughta Be a Movie: a Sugar-&-Spice romantic comedy by Susan Hammond Read Free Book Online Page B

he wouldn’t need to worry about getting the size right. He rubbed the lace between his fingers then reluctantly put them down. This was the romancing part, not the slutty sex part.
    The sales clerk let him browse, probably watching the clock wind down to closing time. She suggested he check out the jewelry case, assuring him that a diamond pendant was always a good idea. They were nice. To hell with nice. Now that he’d scratched the flowers idea, he wanted something especially for Ali.
    The sales clerk pointed out a gold filigree heart and told him it was a classic Valentine’s gift. He didn’t want classic. He wanted unexpected. Then he spotted the tiny zebra charm. Silver with gold stripes. Bingo. That was Ali. The clerk stifled her skeptical surprise and found a simple silver chain, slipped the charm on it, and placed the necklace in a small velvet pouch. He was out the door with two minutes to spare.
    The crowd in the hotel lobby had thinned out, but ten or so wedding guests were still milling around near the elevator. He took the stairs, not wanting to wait or to have a conversation about either of the paper bags he was carrying. He’d told Ali he’d knock for her in forty-five minutes, which gave him fourteen minutes to shed his tux and put on jeans and a black t-shirt.
    Slipping into soft leather loafers, he put the velvet bag in his pocket and tossed the condoms in his open carryon. Almost to the door, he went back to grab his leather jacket. Her last words to him downstairs had been “Don’t forget a coat. The cold front arrives at 9:30.” How the hell she could predict that to the minute he didn’t know, but he’d never doubt her.
    She opened the door at his first knock. Crazy leggings—pinks, red, black, some green and white thrown in, a kind of retro ‘70’s look. A swingy black skirt short enough to fire up his imagination. Except that his imagination had been firing on all cylinders since she’d walked into the church hours ago. Her fitted, white jersey top was styled like a hoodie, zipped up modestly, but where it skimmed her waist his hand could easily slip to the warm skin of her back as they danced. The wedding hairdo had been replaced by long combs that pulled her hair back on the sides, leaving her curls tumbling past her shoulders. He felt a moment of sympathy for the guys in her class who must sit in agony while she insisted they pay attention to the Periodic Table.
    “I’m ready.”
    So am I, sweetheart. “One thing first.” He handed her the velvet pouch.
    “For me?”
    “Happy Valentine’s.” She glanced away, but not before he caught the surprise on her face.
    “Thank you.” She loosened the drawstring and poured the necklace into her palm. “You didn’t need to—oh!” Her expression of delight was one he’d seen a million times over the past nineteen years, and he’d never get tired of it. “I love this.” She started to fasten the clasp behind her neck but was having a hard time keeping her hair off to the side.
    “Here, I’ll do it.” He tossed his jacket on the bed beside hers. “Hold your hair out of the way.”
    They were toe-to-toe, his hands at the back of her neck. He needed to get this done and step back before skipping the after party didn’t just seem like a really good idea, it seemed like the only idea. But when he felt the clasp fall into place, he didn’t move until she looked up at him with the expression he’d never seen on her face before tonight.
    “Thanks.” She looked down to where the necklace disappeared inside her hoodie and slid the zipper down about two inches, baring only the slightest cleavage. The little zebra glinted in the light. “Better?”
    Can’t get any better. Yet somehow he knew it could. One hand moved to her shoulder as the other caressed the nape of her neck. She was watching him, her eyes big and round and dark. One kiss wouldn’t be enough, and their first time wasn’t going to be some up-against-the-wall