Read Online Shopaholic Takes Manhattan by Sophie Kinsella - Free Book Online
Authors: Sophie Kinsella
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clear out their room . . .
“By the way,” says Luke, reaching into his case, “you left this behind at my flat.”
And as I look up, startled, he chucks something across the room at me. It’s soft, it’s fabric . . . as I catch it, I want to weep with relief. It’s clothes! A single oversized Calvin Klein T-shirt, to be precise. I have never been so glad to see a plain washed-out gray T-shirt in my life.
“Thanks!” I say. And I force myself to count to ten before I add casually, “Actually, maybe I’ll wear this today.”
“That?” says Luke, giving me a strange look. “I thought it was a nightshirt.”
“It is! It’s a nightshirt-slash-dress,” I say, popping it over my head—and thank God, it comes to halfway down my thighs. It could easily be a dress. And ha! I’ve got a stretchy black headband in my makeup bag, which just about fits me as a belt.
“Very nice,” says Luke quizzically, watching me wriggle into it. “A
little
on the short side . . .”
“It’s a minidress,” I say firmly, and turn to look at my reflection. And . . . oh God, it is a bit short. But it’s too late to do anything about that now. I step into my clementine sandals and shake back my hair, not allowing myself to think about all the great outfits I had planned for this morning.
“Here,” says Luke. He reaches for my Denny and George scarf and winds it slowly round my neck. “Denny and George scarf, no knickers. Just the way I like it.”
“I’m going to wear knickers!” I say indignantly.
Which is true. I’ll wait till Luke’s gone, then pinch a pair of his boxer shorts.
“So—what’s your deal about?” I ask hurriedly, to change the subject. “Something exciting?”
“It’s . . . pretty big,” says Luke after a pause. He holds up a pair of silk ties. “Which one will bring me luck?”
“The red one,” I say after a little consideration. “It matches your eyes.”
“It matches my eyes?” Luke starts to laugh. “Do I look that rough?”
“It
goes
with your eyes. You know what I mean.”
“No, you were right first time,” says Luke, peering into the mirror. “It matches my eyes perfectly.” He glances at me. “You’d almost think I’d had no sleep last night.”
“No sleep?” I raise my eyebrows. “Before an important meeting? Surely that’s not the way Luke Brandon behaves.”
“Very irresponsible,” agrees Luke, putting the tie round his neck. “Must be thinking of someone else.”
I watch as he knots the tie with brisk, efficient movements. “So come on—tell me about this deal. Is it a big new client?”
But Luke smiles and shakes his head.
“Is it Nat West? I know, Lloyds Bank!”
“Let’s just say . . . it’s something I want very much,” Luke says eventually. “Something I’ve always wanted. But this is all very boring,” he adds in a different tone.
“No, it’s not!”
“Very dull indeed. Now—what are you going to do today? Will you be all right?” And now he sounds like
he’s
changing the subject.
Actually, I think Luke’s a bit sensitive about boring me with his work. Don’t get me wrong, I think his business is really fascinating. But there was this one occasion when it was really late at night, and he was telling me about a new range of technical products he was going to represent and I kind of . . . fell asleep.
I think he took it to heart, because recently he’s hardly talked about work at all.
“Have you heard the pool is closed this morning?” he says.
“I know,” I say, reaching for my blusher. “But that doesn’t matter. I’ll easily amuse myself.”
There’s silence and I look up to see Luke surveying me doubtfully.
“Would you like me to order you a taxi to take you to the shops? Bath is quite near here—”
“No,” I say indignantly. “I don’t want to go shopping!”
Which is true. When Suze found out how much those clementine sandals were, she got all worried that she hadn’t been strict enough with
“By the way,” says Luke, reaching into his case, “you left this behind at my flat.”
And as I look up, startled, he chucks something across the room at me. It’s soft, it’s fabric . . . as I catch it, I want to weep with relief. It’s clothes! A single oversized Calvin Klein T-shirt, to be precise. I have never been so glad to see a plain washed-out gray T-shirt in my life.
“Thanks!” I say. And I force myself to count to ten before I add casually, “Actually, maybe I’ll wear this today.”
“That?” says Luke, giving me a strange look. “I thought it was a nightshirt.”
“It is! It’s a nightshirt-slash-dress,” I say, popping it over my head—and thank God, it comes to halfway down my thighs. It could easily be a dress. And ha! I’ve got a stretchy black headband in my makeup bag, which just about fits me as a belt.
“Very nice,” says Luke quizzically, watching me wriggle into it. “A
little
on the short side . . .”
“It’s a minidress,” I say firmly, and turn to look at my reflection. And . . . oh God, it is a bit short. But it’s too late to do anything about that now. I step into my clementine sandals and shake back my hair, not allowing myself to think about all the great outfits I had planned for this morning.
“Here,” says Luke. He reaches for my Denny and George scarf and winds it slowly round my neck. “Denny and George scarf, no knickers. Just the way I like it.”
“I’m going to wear knickers!” I say indignantly.
Which is true. I’ll wait till Luke’s gone, then pinch a pair of his boxer shorts.
“So—what’s your deal about?” I ask hurriedly, to change the subject. “Something exciting?”
“It’s . . . pretty big,” says Luke after a pause. He holds up a pair of silk ties. “Which one will bring me luck?”
“The red one,” I say after a little consideration. “It matches your eyes.”
“It matches my eyes?” Luke starts to laugh. “Do I look that rough?”
“It
goes
with your eyes. You know what I mean.”
“No, you were right first time,” says Luke, peering into the mirror. “It matches my eyes perfectly.” He glances at me. “You’d almost think I’d had no sleep last night.”
“No sleep?” I raise my eyebrows. “Before an important meeting? Surely that’s not the way Luke Brandon behaves.”
“Very irresponsible,” agrees Luke, putting the tie round his neck. “Must be thinking of someone else.”
I watch as he knots the tie with brisk, efficient movements. “So come on—tell me about this deal. Is it a big new client?”
But Luke smiles and shakes his head.
“Is it Nat West? I know, Lloyds Bank!”
“Let’s just say . . . it’s something I want very much,” Luke says eventually. “Something I’ve always wanted. But this is all very boring,” he adds in a different tone.
“No, it’s not!”
“Very dull indeed. Now—what are you going to do today? Will you be all right?” And now he sounds like
he’s
changing the subject.
Actually, I think Luke’s a bit sensitive about boring me with his work. Don’t get me wrong, I think his business is really fascinating. But there was this one occasion when it was really late at night, and he was telling me about a new range of technical products he was going to represent and I kind of . . . fell asleep.
I think he took it to heart, because recently he’s hardly talked about work at all.
“Have you heard the pool is closed this morning?” he says.
“I know,” I say, reaching for my blusher. “But that doesn’t matter. I’ll easily amuse myself.”
There’s silence and I look up to see Luke surveying me doubtfully.
“Would you like me to order you a taxi to take you to the shops? Bath is quite near here—”
“No,” I say indignantly. “I don’t want to go shopping!”
Which is true. When Suze found out how much those clementine sandals were, she got all worried that she hadn’t been strict enough with
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