Wanderlust
“And what are we toasting to tonight, Mr. Thomas?”
I clink my glass to hers. “Hmm. Could it be that you now have three last names?”
She leans her head back and laughs, a rich, bright laugh that I love. “Assuming I use them all.”
“Oh, please. What could be better than introducing yourself as Joy Danvers-Lively-Thomas, the best perfumer in the world?”
“That does have a nice ring to it,” she says, taking a drink of the champagne.
“Speaking of rings . . .” I hold up my hand, the platinum band on it sparkling under the fading light, then thread my fingers with hers. I take another drink, set the glass down, and pull her next to me on the chaise. “That takes care of number five on my list.”
Drink champagne on your rooftop when we say good-bye to the crazy idea that we weren’t meant to last, because we are. Check.
She brushes her lips to mine. “Can I have my postscript now, please?”
“You can always have that.”
And I make sure she always does.
THE END
Curious about Christian and Elise? They have a story to tell in PART-TIME LOVER, releasing in June! Read on for more on that standalone romance! Also, be sure to check out COME AS YOU ARE, a sexy, swoony standalone romance with a masquerade ball, a Cinderella twist, and a billionaire hero who will sweep you off your feet. You can sign up directly for my newsletter to receive an alert when these sexy new books are available!
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I’ll say this about Christian — he made one hell of a first impression. When I first saw the strapping man, he was doing handstands naked on a dock along the canal. His crown jewels were far more entertaining than anything else I’d seen on the boat tour, so I did what any curious woman would do — I took his photo. I might have looked at the shot a few dozen times. Little did I know I’d meet him again, a year later, at a secret garden bar in the heart of the city, where I’d learn that his mind and his mouth were even more captivating. But given the way my heart had been trampled, I wanted only a simple deal — No strings. No expectations.
Our arrangement worked well enough until the day I needed a lot more from him…
Let me just say, this whole part-time lover thing was her idea. I’d have gone all-in from the start, but hey, when a gorgeous, brilliant woman invites you into her bed, and only her bed…well, I said yes.
But then, one hysterical phone call from my brother later, begging me to find myself a wife so grandfather’s business stays in the family, and I need a promotion with Elise. Turns out a full-time husband suits her needs too, and a temporary marriage of convenience ought to do the trick, until we can simply untie the knot…
As long as no one finds out…
As long as no one gets hurt…
As long as no one falls in love…
But our ending was one I never saw coming.
PART-TIME LOVER will be available everywhere!
Chapter One
Elise
A year ago
Something about the last night in a foreign city makes you want to do crazy things. You want to drink it all in, and taste every single dish on the menu. After all, tomorrow you’ll be gone.
Left with only memories.
The last night is the last stop on the merry-go-round of memory-making.
The last afternoon is, too, and as the sun careens mercilessly towards the horizon, it’s a reminder that I need to jam everything in.
“Do you feel like going a little bit wild?” I ask Veronica.
She wiggles her eyebrows. “If you mean day drinking, we’ve already done that.”
I wag my finger as we stroll down the middle of a cobbled street. “One glass of wine at lunch does not constitute day drinking.”
“No? That seems the very definition.”
I link an arm through hers. “One glass is simply a beverage at lunch. The meter doesn’t start on day drinking until you hit two glasses, silly goose.”
“How good to know the scale for lushness,” she says drily as she stops to stare a handbag in the Prada store window.
I give her a few seconds to worship at the altar of designer goods. “In any case, I was thinking we ought to do something we’ve never done before.”
She snaps her gaze from the far-too-expensive leather item she’ll never buy, and presses a hand demurely to her chest, batting her hazel eyes innocently. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
I laugh. “As if.”
“I know. You like your sausage too much.”
“As do you. You’re practically a butcher,” I say as we sidestep a pair of strapping, chiseled blond men, who look like twin models for “Scandinavian Design’s Catalogue of Men—Denmark” edition. Their blue eyes linger on both of us, and one smiles and offers a confident, “Hello.”
“Hello to you, too,” I say with a grin.
They continue in their direction, and we head in ours. “Should we just wander down the streets and say hello to random hot men?” Veronica offers.
“I don’t think that’s an entirely bad idea, but no, that’s not my notion of wild.”
This urge to have one wild night is in complete contrast to the purpose of the three-days-in-Copenhagen getaway Veronica insisted I needed.
It’s been a year since . . .
I shake away the dark thought.
Anniversaries of horrible days require trips. And day drinking. And refocusing on things that you control.
“If I want to explore the travel sector more at work, I need to know even more about this city, so I can advertise it better. What if we take one of those buffet boat tours?”
She laughs. “What’s a buffet boat tour?”
“A buffet of landmarks. All-your-eyes-can-eat.” As we near the wide square at the end of the block, I point to the red booth advertising canal tours. I play my ace. “It’s like a crash course in Copenhagen, and we’ll make sure we haven’t missed a single thing. It’ll help me win new business. You know I need to focus on work.”
She flashes a smile of understanding. “Anything for you when you prey on my sympathies.” She marches up to the fire-engine red booth and purchases two tickets for the next tour, and we head down the concrete steps to the boat.
The blond guide with aviator shades and shoulder-length hair flashes a bright smile as we step onboard, his nametag glinting in the afternoon sun. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
“Lars, she’s no lady.” Veronica points to me and winks.
“Ladies or not, you’re both welcome on my ship as long as you promise to enjoy the sights.”
“We will. Also, you’re handsome, Lars.” Veronica is shamelessly a flirt.
“Thank you very much, and I’ll enjoy the sights as well.” It seems Lars is a flirt, too. His blue-eyed gaze lingers on my friend with the hourglass figure and pretty eyes as we take our seats.
We wait for the boat to fill, but only a handful of others join us. An older couple, sports hats, cameras on their necks, and matching I Heart Copenhagen sweatshirts. There are also a gaggle of twenty-something women with long legs and college sweatshirts, and some Japanese tourists.
I lean back in the cushioned seat, dropping my sunglasses to shield my eyes as the boat peels away from the dock. As we slide over the placid water, Lars regales us with tales of royal families and scandals, pointing out the city’s sights. I lean closer to Veronica and whisper, “Will you pick up where you left off with the handsome boat captain?”