yes but it wasn’t a no. “Yeah, how so?”
“Well, too many people rush into it and make a mess of it because they don’t try. They think it’s all going to be magical and therefore, no effort is required.”
Simon felt a weird surge of excitement rush through him. It was like the day they first met but different. This was a deeper side to Mary. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and would accept no less despite the pressure of her mother.
“Sounds like you’ve given marriage a lot of thought.”
“I know what I want.” She stroked her hand up and down his arm.
Even a simple touch from Mary made his pulse race. “And that is?”
“Someone I can talk to and be with and make love with regardless of whether I have a ring on my finger.”
“That sounds like the ultimate happy ending.” It was exactly what Simon wanted. Women normally were attracted to him because of wealth. Some of them had great physical beauty but none had the heart Mary did.
Mary rose up so she was on her elbow. “Do you think happy endings exist?”
“I want to believe so.”
She licked her lips in thought. “Tomorrow at my sister’s wedding, be less—”
“What?”
“Perfect.”
Simon chuckled at that. He knew he was anything but. “You think I’m perfect?” He wanted to be real and her man without any pretence.
“Maybe that’s the wrong word but you’re every mothers dream for their daughter. You’re rich, attractive, sweet—”
“You think I’m sweet?” It seemed silly but such a simple phrase pleased Simon.
“I think you’re adorable.” Her eyes widened and she blushed. Perfect. He kissed he nose. “And I’ll do my best to be less than perfect.”
Chapter Seven
That was how Swerve tuned up at the wedding. Sure, he wore a jacket that was befitting a man of wealth but the frayed edged, faded jeans, beaded friendship bracelets around his wrists, the beat up sneakers and the surfer sun glasses perched on the top of his head? They were pure Swerve. As was his language. He confused and amused many with his ‘gnarly dude’ comments and his colorful, uninhibited conversation that had people wondering what planet he came from. Few would have noticed the keen attention in his eyes as he listened to those around him. Mary was fascinated watching him. Her mother, once over her initial surprise appeared pleased that Mary had turned up with a man, despite how he dressed and acted, and not another woman like her sister Clare.
“What a drag,” Clare murmured as she puffed on a cigarette perched on the end of a long silver cigarette holder.
Mary smiled. She loved Clare. She was an original who cared little for what others said. Her sister was, as she threatened to be, dressed in a 1920s style black tuxedo and her short, cinnamon brown hair was cut in a severe bob designed to match the theme. “Nice threads.”
“I bought it in a good will store. I knew it would give mother heart palpitations.”
“That, and the friend you arrived with.” The tall, Amazonian blonde had taken everyone by surprise. In her tight fitting mini dress her legs seemed to go on forever.
“Tymber? She’s a sweetheart.”
“She seems nice.” Not that Mary had gotten more than two words out of her sister’s girlfriend. Tymber was the type who nodded and smiled and simply looked good.
“I’m in love,” Clare announced as she surveyed the other guests. They were in the garden that led off from the so called ‘Forever Room’ that her sister, Fran had been married in. The garden was big, spacious and dotted with intricately cut hedges in the shape of hearts. It was tacky, but not surprising when it came to what her mother envisaged as appropriate to weddings. Not that their mother had ever been married. Her excuse was she had ‘never found the right man.’ Mary knew the Dalton matriarch had certainly found a lot of wrong ones.
“Of course you’re in love.” Mary had heard that a lot from Clare and she hoped one day
“Well, too many people rush into it and make a mess of it because they don’t try. They think it’s all going to be magical and therefore, no effort is required.”
Simon felt a weird surge of excitement rush through him. It was like the day they first met but different. This was a deeper side to Mary. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and would accept no less despite the pressure of her mother.
“Sounds like you’ve given marriage a lot of thought.”
“I know what I want.” She stroked her hand up and down his arm.
Even a simple touch from Mary made his pulse race. “And that is?”
“Someone I can talk to and be with and make love with regardless of whether I have a ring on my finger.”
“That sounds like the ultimate happy ending.” It was exactly what Simon wanted. Women normally were attracted to him because of wealth. Some of them had great physical beauty but none had the heart Mary did.
Mary rose up so she was on her elbow. “Do you think happy endings exist?”
“I want to believe so.”
She licked her lips in thought. “Tomorrow at my sister’s wedding, be less—”
“What?”
“Perfect.”
Simon chuckled at that. He knew he was anything but. “You think I’m perfect?” He wanted to be real and her man without any pretence.
“Maybe that’s the wrong word but you’re every mothers dream for their daughter. You’re rich, attractive, sweet—”
“You think I’m sweet?” It seemed silly but such a simple phrase pleased Simon.
“I think you’re adorable.” Her eyes widened and she blushed. Perfect. He kissed he nose. “And I’ll do my best to be less than perfect.”
Chapter Seven
That was how Swerve tuned up at the wedding. Sure, he wore a jacket that was befitting a man of wealth but the frayed edged, faded jeans, beaded friendship bracelets around his wrists, the beat up sneakers and the surfer sun glasses perched on the top of his head? They were pure Swerve. As was his language. He confused and amused many with his ‘gnarly dude’ comments and his colorful, uninhibited conversation that had people wondering what planet he came from. Few would have noticed the keen attention in his eyes as he listened to those around him. Mary was fascinated watching him. Her mother, once over her initial surprise appeared pleased that Mary had turned up with a man, despite how he dressed and acted, and not another woman like her sister Clare.
“What a drag,” Clare murmured as she puffed on a cigarette perched on the end of a long silver cigarette holder.
Mary smiled. She loved Clare. She was an original who cared little for what others said. Her sister was, as she threatened to be, dressed in a 1920s style black tuxedo and her short, cinnamon brown hair was cut in a severe bob designed to match the theme. “Nice threads.”
“I bought it in a good will store. I knew it would give mother heart palpitations.”
“That, and the friend you arrived with.” The tall, Amazonian blonde had taken everyone by surprise. In her tight fitting mini dress her legs seemed to go on forever.
“Tymber? She’s a sweetheart.”
“She seems nice.” Not that Mary had gotten more than two words out of her sister’s girlfriend. Tymber was the type who nodded and smiled and simply looked good.
“I’m in love,” Clare announced as she surveyed the other guests. They were in the garden that led off from the so called ‘Forever Room’ that her sister, Fran had been married in. The garden was big, spacious and dotted with intricately cut hedges in the shape of hearts. It was tacky, but not surprising when it came to what her mother envisaged as appropriate to weddings. Not that their mother had ever been married. Her excuse was she had ‘never found the right man.’ Mary knew the Dalton matriarch had certainly found a lot of wrong ones.
“Of course you’re in love.” Mary had heard that a lot from Clare and she hoped one day
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