Читать книгу The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance - Carol Marinelli, Amalie Berlin - Страница 10
ОглавлениеHERE’S TO A brand-new year.
Dr. Miranda Dupris clutched her empty champagne flute and waited for the dreaded annual countdown to begin. The huge gathering area of her father’s lodge—with its vaulted ceilings and blazing fireplace—was packed, the free food and drinks drawing in legions of guests and employees, all hoping the year ahead would be kinder than the one they were leaving behind.
Or maybe that was just her.
A fresh glass of glittery amber liquid was pressed into her hand, while the empty one was plucked free and deposited onto the tray of one of the serving staff. The smell of champagne clogged her senses, its sharp bite a welcome diversion.
“Mira, we totally forgot to make our resolutions!” Her best friend grinned at her, long blonde curls bouncing as she swirled the contents of her own glass. “Let’s do them now. That way you can dump Robert into the universe’s nearest black hole and start over.”
At the mention of her ex-fiancé, Mira curled her toes into the ankle-slaying red stilettos while the familiar sting of betrayal lanced through her gut.
Never again. Never, ever again.
If anyone was jumping into the nearest black hole, it was going to be her.
She was done with relationships. For good this time. Three failed engagements in the last seven years should tell her something.
“I’m all for that.” She forced her lips to tilt upward, trying not to ruin their New Year’s Eve tradition, something she and Ellory had done for the last ten years in this very room. She lifted her glass. “I’ll even go first. I hereby swear off committed relationships for the next twelve months.”
Her friend laughed. “What about uncommitted ones?”
What about them?
Oh! Her foggy brain finally put two and two together. Ellory was asking if she was swearing off men altogether. Was she?
Maybe that was a bit too extreme. She did like men. Some of them, anyway. Just not certain bastardly ski instructors.
“Uncommitted is good. More than good, actually.” She raised her glass even higher. “Okay, how about this, then? I resolve to date twenty-five men over the next year with no emotional involvement whatsoever. Zip. Nada.”
Her friend blinked. “Whoa.” Ellory now had to yell over the crowd as the clock hands on the huge screen across from them shifted closer and closer to the witching hour. “Are you serious? Miss Monogamy Dupris is going to serial date?”
Um...yes. Why not?
The idea sounded more and more attractive. Or maybe that was the three glasses of champagne she’d had. Whatever. She took another bracing sip. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Serial date. Twenty-five men...one year.”
“This I’ve got to see. Bet you a hundred bucks you either back out or you don’t make it past man number five without getting attached to him.”
Ha! Unless the fifth guy was a puppy hiding in a man suit, she didn’t see that happening.
“Make it ten men. No, wait...all twenty-five. And backing out is not an option.” She waggled her shoulders back and forth, her courage growing with each passing moment. “Tell you what. Next New Year’s Eve we’ll see who pays whom. Your turn. What’s your resolution? And it’d better be good!”
“Well, if you can swear off serious relationships, I can swear off men altogether—maybe work on myself for a change, take on a project. And I’ll bet the same amount of money that I will follow through.” Ellory’s expression had taken on a serious note, totally out of character for her fun-loving friend.
But with the hands almost at the top of the dial, she didn’t have time to question her. “Okay, so we each have a hundred dollars riding on our resolutions, right?”
“Right.”
She’d just gotten the words out when a cacophony of voices began chanting backwards from ten. Ellory clinked her glass against Mira’s and they downed the last of their drinks.
Confetti rained all around her, the cheers and laughter of the crowd forming a frothy wave of mirth that carried her up and out of her funk. Mira caught her friend up in a tight hug, so glad Ellory had come to stay with her for a while.
She stepped back, about to say something, when a masculine voice came from behind her. “Well, well, well. Looks like I’m not the only one without a date tonight. Or are you two together?”
Mira’s eyes widened when she realized the slightly slurred tones were far too close to her ear for comfort. Still holding onto one of Ellory’s hands, she raised her brows in question. Surely not.
“Turn around,” her friend mouthed. “He’s talking to you.”
Knees quivering, Mira released her hand and pivoted on the spiked heel of her shoe until she was face to face with a beefy hunk who could have stepped straight out of an ad for a gym membership. He was tall and buff, and his too-tanned-to-be-real neck rose from a pressed white shirt and black tux. His blue eyes gleamed with something that looked like...interest. Or boredom. She couldn’t decide which.
“I—I...” Her mind went blank, and she scrabbled for the nearest coherent sentence. “Er...hello.”
How the hell did one serial date, anyway? She’d have to ask Ellory for some pointers later.
The man’s smile grew. “I waited a whole ten minutes to make sure no irate boyfriend was going to bust my jaw for coming over here. I noticed you as soon as you walked through the door. Are you alone?”
Oh, no. Not this fast.
She glanced back at her friend, who opened her beaded purse and tipped it toward her with a knowing jiggle. “You want to pay up now, honey?”
Egads. The woman knew right where to hit.
Straightening her spine, she turned back to the man in question. “Yep. I’m alone.”
“What say I buy you a drink, then?”
Since the booze was free, that was hardly an enticing offer. But if her job was to stay unattached, this guy seemed like the obvious choice.
“What say you do?” Mira tried for a purr, but it came off sounding like an asthmatic wheeze.
Before she could chicken out, she handed her empty champagne glass to Ellory, who stared at her with undisguised shock. Mira leaned forward and whispered two words, drawing them out for emphasis. “Game. On.”
