Read Online All the Way by Jennifer Probst - Free Book Online Page A

and caught a glimpse of his profile. The thought of his mouth sliding, wet and hot, over hers caused a shiver to race down her spine. Damn, she was exhausted. Time to get her mind out of the gutter. “About ten years. I guess Andy was working at another paper and interviewed Elaine for an article on fitness. She managed a health club. He was too shy to ask her out so he ended up writing a different column on her every day for two weeks. His editor finally dragged him in and made him ask her out. They were married a year later.”
    Gavin rolled to the side. Propping his head on the side of her head, he studied her in thoughtful silence. Her heart stopped, then burst into rapid staccato. He reached out and ran one finger down her cheek, then drew back as if he remembered his promise.
    “It was their karma.”
    She swallowed. As if his words weaved a spell, she waited for his mouth to take hers. His quick, indrawn breath cut through the air as he recognized her surrender, and the silence pulsed with electricity. He half closed his eyes. The delicious scents of lemon and spice swarmed her. He leaned in, and she let out a sigh of release. She wouldn’t have to make a choice, because he’d make one for her.
    He moved away with a low mutter. “Would Andy mind if I made a fire?” he asked.
    She blinked. The air cooled without his body heat near. “No, go ahead. The room’s a bit chilly.”
    She remained silent as he made the fire, and when the quick snap of wood caught flame echoed in the air, she remembered how many times they made love in front of Gavin’s fireplace while they listened to the opera.
    “You’re thinking about it, too.”
    Miranda closed her eyes and tried to will away the memory. “I don’t want to think about the past.”
    “I know.” He settled back on the carpet and stretched jean-clad legs in front of him. “I remember the first night I took you to the Met. You’d never seen the opera before, and I warned you most people found the music boring. You insisted you’d love it.”
    A reluctant laugh escaped her lips. “My grandmother loved the movie Moonstruck . We used to watch it together. Cher wore a beautiful red dress to the Metropolitan, and when Nicholas Cage took one look at her, I knew he fell madly in love. After that, I longed to see an opera.”
    “Hmm, at least you didn’t admire Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction . If my memory is correct, she shared her love for Madame Butterfly with her lover. Then she tried to kill the poor guy.”
    She sniffed. “You’re making fun of me.”
    Gavin chuckled. “I never saw the movie, but you beat Cher out. You wore green, the exact color of your eyes. The dress had that hood wrap thing, and when you loosened the cloth, all I could see was fiery red curls spilling around your face.”
    She caught her breath at the vivid description. “You remember detail well.”
    “I remember you.” He paused. “We saw La Traviata . You gripped my hand so hard I thought I’d be crippled by the finale.”
    “I didn’t want her to die.”
    He nodded. “During the last scene, you cried. Of course, you used to cry over everything. Songs on the radio. Television commercials. Those awful Lifetime movies you always watched. You didn’t budge from the chair at the end, and insisted the composer made a terrible mistake.”
    “I was a bit emotional. I hoped for a happier ending.”
    “Operas never have happy endings. That’s why people always remember them.”
    She retreated from the brief flash of pain. “Yes.” Silence fell over the room. The steady tick of the clock on the mantle mingled with the snap of wood. Shadows danced against the wall. She heard her name whispered from far away. Too tired to fight the raging swirl of emotions, sleep dragged her down and claimed her, and she welcomed it, knowing it would stop the endless array of emotions slowly torturing her.
    The words raked across her ears in a caress and melted into the misty fringes of