My Favorite Mistake

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Stephanie Bond. My Favorite Mistake

“Denise, I’m tired of beating around the bush here,” Redford said

Stephanie Bond. My Favorite Mistake

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Epilogue

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“I want you in my bed tonight, but the choice is entirely yours.”

Desire flooded my body, rushing through my veins, awakening every nerve ending. The silence stretched between us for long seconds while my mind raced with uncertainty. “I…” I swallowed and tried again, not entirely sure what words might tumble out of my mouth. “I…excuse me.”

.....

“Again? Someday?” The lady snorted and her body language clearly said that women who didn’t get it right the first time around didn’t deserve a production the second time around. Another good point. I had blown it the first time I’d walked down the aisle—well, okay, to be morbidly honest I hadn’t “walked down the aisle.” I was married in a chapel drive-through, which, in my defense, had seemed the most economical route at the time.

My groom, who I barely knew, was a gorgeous officer on leave. And the spontaneous marriage had been prompted by intense physical chemistry (Redford was rather spectacularly endowed), and perhaps a bit of misplaced patriotism that I had mistaken for love. It was one of the oldest clichés in the book—an observation which, I realized ruefully, was also a cliché. The biggest mistake of my life was redundant. Ridiculously, tears pooled in my eyes.

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