Selling Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 1) by Samantha Westlake Read Free Book Online Page A

So maybe it wasn't yet worth mentioning. If he'd actually asked me out, on a real date, then maybe I should bring it up. Besides, Portia had already suggested that I shouldn't be thinking about dating anyone.
    For a moment, the wonderfully exhilarating, tantalizing idea of a one night stand with Carter James flicked through my mind. Even if he did turn out to be a criminal who had escaped from jail, something about the way he carried himself still assured me that he'd be a lot of fun in bed. He would make me forget all about Barry, most definitely...
    ...and then, I went on, I'd just be obsessing over a new man. Another man to break my heart and leave me worse off than before.
    "Nothing comes to mind as of yet," I answered Portia. "But then again, it's only been a day, so maybe something will end up coming up tomorrow."
    "That's right. Tomorrow's a whole new day, filled with possibilities," she declared, holding up her wine glass as if making a toast. I giggled, and Portia flashed me a quick little smile, her dark eyes briefly crinkling.
    After taking a sip, she lowered the glass and looked around the wine bar. "Now, which of these gentlemen should you try and impress by attempting to fit a cue ball into your mouth?" she asked, making me nearly spit out my own mouthful of wine with laughter.

Chapter Seven
    *
    "Besides, I could have told you even earlier that it would have been a bad idea," Portia insisted to me, swaying a little on her chair. She leaned in towards me a little too far, and I surreptitiously put an arm against her shoulder to keep her from tipping all the way off of the chair and ending up sprawled on the floor of Vini.
    "What would have been a bad idea?" I asked.
    "Marrying Barry, that's what!" Portia hiccuped. Somehow, she even made that bodily gesture appear soft and feminine. How the hell did she do it? When I hiccuped, it sounded like a drunken sailor letting out air.
    "Why do you say that?"
    Portia held up her hands. "Becca," she said, spreading out one palm. "Barry Bulger," she went on, opening the other hand. She brought the two hands together in a soft clap. "Becca Bulger. Can you possibly think of a worse name?"
    I giggled like a little kid with a secret. "Okay, yeah, that would have been pretty bad."
    "Exactly!" Portia reached forward and picked up her wineglass, and then frowned down at it as she noted that it no longer contained any more wine. "Hey, what happened to all of my wine?"
    I poked her in her trim, flat little stomach. "You put it all in there for safekeeping!"
    "I did, did I? Drat." Portia frowned down at herself, as if trying to work out how to get at the wine she'd already consumed, and I giggled again. This was one place, at least, where I excelled over my best friend; I had never met more of a lightweight when it came to alcohol. Portia's classy, confident demeanor totally fell away whenever she had more than a glass or two of wine or other booze in her system.
    "Maybe we should think about getting you home," I suggested, debating whether I should keep her out. She was at the stage of drunkenness when she was the most fun, for sure, but I also knew that I'd have to get up tomorrow and go open up the art gallery. That would be much harder to do if I also needed to nurse a hangover at the same time.
    Portia, however, violently shook her head, sending her hair whipping around her. "Nuh uh. I'm out to cheer you up, and I swear that, as Portia Skye, your best friend, I'm going to do it!"
    "You've already done plenty," I tried to assure her, but she was already casting her eyes around the wine bar, looking at the other patrons.
    "Ooh, look at that guy," she whispered to me, her voice still loud enough to probably carry halfway across the bar. She pointed, in a manner that I found far, far too obvious, at a heavyset man in a suit sitting at the end of the bar, drinking alone. "He looks cute!"
    I frowned at her. "Weren't you just telling me earlier that I shouldn't be thinking about dating