Read Online The Art of Stealing Hearts by Stella London - Free Book Online Page A

pencil, hair still pinned and
loosely falling like a prom ‘do,
like I’m
dressed up for a ball where I don’t
really belong.
    St.
Clair sure seems like Prince Charming, except this is real life and
not a fairy tale. Not everyone gets happily ever afters here.
    “You
can always choose to be happy,” my
mom used to say.
    “No
you can’t,”
I retorted
once, after a first boyfriend broke my heart. “What
if they leave you behind?”
    “You
can always make the choice to see the bright side, the bright spot
that lets you get up tomorrow. Choosing to be happy doesn’t
mean you get up and dance whenever things go wrong. It means you
refuse to allow the sadness to rule your life, refuse to allow other
people’s
actions to dictate your emotions.”
    She
hugged me.
    “Do
you have to wait for happiness to find you?”
I said. “Or
can you chase it?”
    “You
can chase it, baby,” she
said, smiling wide. “Chase
it your whole life.”
    I
wish my mom were here, but I know what she would say about this freak
out: it’s
just fear. And she’d
be right. Don’t
give up on this happiness because it seems too good to be true.
    I
head back out to the table determined not to let my insecurities ruin
the sparks between St. Clair and me, but my heart sinks when I see
him standing by the exit, his phone in his hand. The table’s
been cleared, and he has an apologetic look on his face.
    “I’m
terribly sorry, but I’m
going to have to cut our evening short,”
he says.
“Something
urgent has come up at work.”
    “I
understand,” I
lie, forcing a smile. “No
worries.”
    The
waiter comes over with bags of food, packed up in to-go boxes.
    “I
didn’t
want this delicious feast to go to waste,”
St. Clair
says. “My
driver will take you home. It’s
the least I can do for disappearing on you.”
    As
we take the elevator down together, I wonder if there really is a
work emergency. But St. Clair seems genuinely regretful for bailing
like this. “At
least you didn’t
spill coffee on me,” I
say, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m
still waiting for you to get even.”
    “Damn!
That was on the agenda for later.”
He grins and
moves closer to me. “I
guess we’ll
just have to do this again sometime.”
    I
let my body drift closer. “I
might be into that.”
    St.
Clair rests a hand gently on my arm, and then he’s
leaning into me, so close I can feel his breath on my lips the moment
before his mouth finds mine.
    He
kisses me slowly, taking his time as if savoring me like a fine wine.
His lips roam over mine, and then he grazes my lower lip, biting
lightly. My whole body comes alive, demands to touch him, and I press
against him, eager for more. He eases my lips open and slides his
tongue into my mouth, and I melt at the sensuous feel of him—
    Ding !
The elevator doors open and I blink back to reality, the spell
broken.
    St
Clair. clears his throat. For a moment he looks dazed, before
regaining his composure. “My,
uh, driver, will take you home and get your number.”
He lands a
brief kiss on my forehead. “Sweet
dreams, Grace,” he
says and then he’s
gone.
    His
driver appears and leads me to the limo, but I barely notice a thing
all the way home. I’m
lost in the memory of his kiss. Our
first kiss .
    I
only hope it’s
the first of many.

 

CHAPTER 7
     
    Oh,
the joys of a day off!
    It’s
still early when I awake to the familiar sounds of the restaurant
downstairs. I make myself coffee and get back in bed. I roll under
the covers and replay pieces of last night’s
date over and over in my mind: when we talked about art, when he
understood and took my hand across the table, when he kissed me in
the elevator.
    God,
that kiss knocked me for a loop. Talk about hot. I mean, I don’t
have a ton of experience, but I could barely walk after a ten-second
kiss. Imagine what he can do with the rest of his body…
    My
phone pings. It’s
him.
    Apologies
again for ending our date so abruptly. I had a great time and