No, Not that Jane Austen Read Online Free PDF

me. "I know it can't work, but I ... I don't know ... do you know what I mean?"
    "Alistair." I shook my head. "It's not you. I know you're not some whacko trying to get in my pants. I guess there's always that chance, I mean, I don't know you very well. You could be a whacko and I really hope not, but I'm ... I can't kiss you."
    "It's trousers."
    "What?"
    "I believe you meant trousers, not pants. Although you could very well mean pants too." He stopped and looked at me. "I'm not in love with you."
    I laughed.
    He smiled. "There's something between us though. I know you feel it."
    "It's not real, Alistair. It's just our emotions eating us alive. British boy and American girl meet in an airport, spend the day together, and by the end of the day they've fallen in love." I glanced at him, expecting a smile but he looked as serious as possible. "It has all the necessary elements of a sweeping romance, but it's our emotions. It can't be anything more. It's not possible to fall for someone when you've only just met."
    "A relationship has to start somewhere," he said and pointed. "Turn there. Not saying this should be a relationship, but it's something, don't you think? There's something here."
    "What's the point?" I nodded toward the road. "Which way do I go?"
    "Left and then it's there on the right. Days Inn." He ran his hand along the open window. "What's the point in anything?"
    I laughed. "That's vague."
    "The point is I want to kiss you. You said we have a choice. Well, I’m making a choice for once. A choice for myself. I may not love you or know you inside and out, but when I watch your lips move I want to kiss you. What would it hurt?"
    "It's weird."
    He laughed. "It is a bit queer, that's true." He repositioned in the seat and unbuckled himself. "Still doesn't change the fact that I want to kiss you before I leave. I won't ever see you again and the least I could give you for your birthday is the best kiss you've ever had in your life."
    I shot a stunned look at him only to find him leaning toward me with exaggerated and dorky puckered lips. Laughing, I parked the car and left it on. Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture with full cannons played quietly in the background. I bet he didn't notice, but I did. Quite dramatic for the moment, but I thought it was funny so I left it on.
    I glanced in the backseat at the box Donovan gave me. The box that would explain one of the many reasons why I am the way I am. Why I developed my precautions. I couldn't wait to go home and open it, as much as it scared me, but for now I needed to send off a sweet boy without the kiss he so wanted.
    The kiss I half wanted.
    “One minute,” he said, pulling out a scrap of paper, tearing it in half, and grabbing a pen. He cupped his hand over the words and wrote something way too long to be a phone number, email address, or even mailing address.
    Intrigued, I tried to peek, but he glanced at me, pretending to be agitated but failing. He leaned back against the door so that I couldn’t possible see what he wrote on the paper hidden by his hand. I tried and he flashed me a few grins. He obviously liked tormenting me with his mysterious ways. Finally, he finished writing and ran his fingers through his hair and ... okay, maybe I sixty-five percent wanted to kiss him.
    The distance tempted me. No last names, phone numbers, or addresses. No strings. No attachments. No arguments and jealousy and break ups.
    Just a kiss. A once and done kiss.
    Couldn't hurt, right?
    "You're thinking about it," he said. "I can tell. My winsome accent has won you over."
    "Right." I laughed. "Winsome, all right. Speaking of accents, what do British people think of American accents?"
    "Everyone always asks this."
    "And?"
    "We don't think about it the same way American's do." He held my hand again. "So..."
    "This is so strange! I can't kiss you when you ask. It's weird, awkward ... queer."
    He smiled. "You really don't want to?"
    "I do and I don't."
    He inched toward me until his