Читать книгу I Want It Now - Sydney Molare - Страница 7

Secrets.

There are many types—big, small, inconsequential, and life changing. Mine is the latter: definitely life changing…for me, for my world.

I smoothed the foundation over my face and added eye shadow and blush. A touch of gloss to the lips and I was ready to get dressed. The panty/bra set was electric blue with lace frothing everywhere. I needed to lose a few pounds but I wasn’t unhappy with the woman in the mirror. The dress I wore was an iridescent ecru, form-fitting and tasteful for the day ahead.

My mind whirled with thoughts of what I was doing. Was I crazy? Would my family and colleagues laugh their asses off? Was this the biggest mistake of my life? Who knew? I’d committed myself, and I prided myself on going through with my commitments; therefore, I was in until the sink capsized and pulled me along in its undertow.

The ride to the dock was sweet. The sun shone in the sky, the air was warm for a March morning, and traffic was light and moving well. Nothing to complain about. I found a spot to park in that wasn’t far enough away to cause blisters to form on my heels from the walk. I took a few deep gulps of air to calm myself and gathered up the necessary papers before I exited. Armed with everything I needed to get this adventure under way, I lifted my chin and strode confidently toward Landing Dock 7.

Get ready, ’cause here I come!

I could see the large ocean liner, the Bravado, being secured to the dock by strong-armed, strong-backed men. I thought the name of the ship was fitting because what I was doing required tons of bravado on my part. From the first time I’d spotted the ad to the inquiry to the follow-through, no one would have thought I’d have this type of moxie. Not Dina Charles. My image to family and friends usually made them think cute, brainy, but definitely one to be overlooked. Not anymore, folks!

The ship’s horn blew loud and long before the gangplank was attached. Family and friends of the passengers began cheering with expectancy of viewing their loved ones. As the first passengers disembarked, my heart began a heavy thudding against the back of my breasts. I had the fleeting thought to run, but I willed my feet to stay still.

I was jostled from behind. I shifted as a voice asked, “Waiting for your boyfriend?”

Startled, I turned and looked into a pale, sunburned face wearing sunglasses and a wide smile. It’s true: smiles make you smile. And I did. Widely. “Not quite.”

“That’s a curious answer.” The sunglasses were removed, revealing aquamarine eyes. “Usually the women proclaim loudly they are waiting for their husbands, boyfriends, fathers, or brothers.” He tilted his head in question.

“I know. I like being a bit different.” I was also feeling a bit unnerved by this inquisitive stranger. I don’t mind chitchat, it just wasn’t the day or time for it for me. Thankfully, the first passengers had reached the level of the dock, and the crowd surged toward them. I was torn away from the man and moved along with the tide of people.

Suddenly, I spotted him. There was no mistaking the hunk of a man standing a head taller than the others around him. He looked just like the photo he’d sent. Actually, he looked way yummier than the photo. Thank God. So many times, people used “old” photos of themselves in their prime. They failed to give you the new, gravity-dropped version, instead allowed you to be surprised by the variations present in the “current” them versus the “when I was in top shape” one. I waited, watching as he reached the platform. A man I hadn’t noticed before—probably since he was much shorter and smaller—spoke to him and they both began scanning the crowd. I waited until their heads turned in my direction before I waved.

Our eyes locked. I could see his pupils dilate, nostrils flare from where I stood, and I swear, I felt a bolt of electricity zap through my body in response. Both of our feet moved simultaneously, first steps, then I was running into his open, waiting arms. As he leaned down, thick biceps enclosed me, picked me up, swung me around. I felt like I’d finally reached…home. I clung to him, a feeling I’d never experienced with anyone I hadn’t known for a while.

Who knew how long I was spun, wordless, before we heard a throat clear and a heavily accented voice saying, “Well, this is one of the best first meetings I’ve ever seen.” I pulled my head from wide shoulders as the blush crept up my throat. I kept my eyes downcast but the arms refused to place my feet on the ground. “This bodes well for your future. Very good indeed. Dubois, please let Ms. Charles down.”

“Must I?” His breath blew against my still down-turned face, making me glance up. Yep, my first impression was confirmed: His parents must be artisans, because he was a specimen carved perfectly from muscle, blood, and bone.

“Yes. We have a tight schedule, and unless Ms. Charles has any objections, I plan to accomplish everything required today.” The small man looked at me and bowed. “I’m Simon Daughter, Esquire, at your service. I’ll be consummating the contract and handling any questions that may arise until I leave tomorrow evening.”

Hands were on my waist, shifting me until I was face-to-face. I looked up, up, up into his twinkling eyes. “And I’m Dubois, your new husband…to be.”