Читать книгу A Dash of Temptation - Jo Leigh - Страница 6

To: Erin

CC: Samantha

From: TessThePlantLady@hotmail.com

Subject: Men I’m NOT Going To Do!

Okay, picture this: I’m with Brad. He’s wearing Armani and he smells like cashmere on ice. His hair is perfect, including the obligatory rakish bangs across his forehead. His frown is fetching, his gaze hurt.

Me: I’m sorry, Brad. I just can’t do this. I want more from a relationship than you can give.

Him: Oh, Tess. You’ve made me realize you’re the only woman in the world for me. I’d be lost without you. (He drops to one knee and whips out a Tiffany ring box. Flicking it open, the diamond blinds me for a moment.)

Him: Marry me, Tess. Be mine forever.

Me: Put that 1.2 million dollar ring back in your pocket. We’re not meant to be together. I must go.

Him: Wait! Tess! (He bursts into racking sobs.)

Me: (I wipe a tear as I head for the subway. My posture is excellent.)

Nice, huh? Okay, so here’s what really happened.

Me: I don’t think we can, I mean, uh, I don’t think I can see you anymore.

Him: Okay.

Me: (pulling the knife from the center of my heart) Bye.

The first one’s better. MUCH better, don’t you think? Unfortunately, Brad, bless his pointed little head, didn’t understand that he was losing a gem. That I am, indeed, one hell of a catch and he’s a fool for letting me go.

Really. I mean that. Honest.

I love it, Erin, that you’ve been so lucky with your Man To Do. And I really mean that, too. I sit here and wonder where I went wrong. Dating dangerous, fabulously wealthy, terminally handsome boys seemed like a good idea at the time. What was a broken heart (or ten)? Nevertheless, I’ve learned my lesson. No more Men To Do… I’m doing Men To Marry now. Period. The end. Well, not the end so much as the beginning. A new beginning with a whole new me.

I’m going to do all the things Dear Abby suggests: church socials (note to self: find church), night classes (note to self: ditto), afternoon concerts in Central Park, maybe some golf lessons. I am determined to find Mr. Right and become Mrs. Right by the end of the year. Or next year. Soon, okay? No more Brads. Ever!

So don’t you guys worry about me. You just crawl into your respective beds with your respective hunks and don’t give your poor, desperate friend a thought. I mean it.

Okay then. I’ll just go cry myself to sleep. TTYS!

Love and kisses,

Tess