Seeing Stars Read Online Free PDF Page B

a vesty thing and pink suede slouch boots – whatever they might
     be and I must say I can’t wait to find out – then Lewis will spot you a mile off, duck. Take care of yourself, and I’ll be
     seeing you really soon. I’m looking forward to it.’
    ‘So am I,’ Amber had muttered, because it would have been rude not to. ‘And thank you.’
    So here she was, very hot and very tired, waiting for Lewis the taxi driver like a modern-day David Copperfield, another book
     she’d done at school and really loved, and convinced now that he was not only the localjack-of-all-trades but also some sort of ancient lecher. He was probably going to try and grope her legs and peer lasciviously
     down her top and – oh well, Amber sighed. After the intimacies of the train journey, she felt she could cope with anything.
     And she’d simply slap him if he got too frisky.
    She still wished they’d arranged to have name cards like at airports so there’d be no mistake.
    It was so hot. The sky was brazen. The sun bounced relentlessly from the rooftops, dazzled from shimmering cars, and scorched
     the ground. Amber wondered if she could leave her heap of worldly goods and nip into the newsagents for a bottle of water.
     No, on second thoughts, probably not. She really hoped Lewis wouldn’t be long.
    Reading, or what she could see of it from the station’s entrance, looked promising though. Everyone was dressed glossy-mag
     fashionably, and there seemed to be a mass of shopping opportunities along the not-too-distant maze of city centre streets.
    If Fiddlesticks really proved to be the end of the world then Reading would definitely offer some salvation. There was clearly
     shopping and possibly clubbing to be had, and maybe, when she’d fully recovered from Jamie being a two-timing spineless commitmentphobe,
     there may even be men, or at least
a
man, who might make her forget all the heartache.
    Blimey! Talk of the devil.
    The man thrusting his way through the crowds towards the station was absolutely stunning. Amber peered into the quivering
     brilliance. Was he real? Surely not. Maybe he was a mirage? After all, she’d been standing here for ages in the broiling sun.
    Mind you, he looked real enough.
    Amber smiled to herself as he came closer. Yep. Definitely real. If this was an example of Reading’s male population, then
     Jamie’s memory would be wiped out ina nanosecond. She squinted again, unable to believe her eyes.
    This devastating vision of male beauty was a true havoc-maker.
    All female – and a few male – heads turned as he walked across the mock cobbles towards the railway station’s entrance.
    Tall, lean, tanned, tousled layers of longish brown hair, huge dark eyes … Amber drank him in. If only Jemma and Emma and
     Kelly and Bex could be here now. They’d rate him way, way off their male-lust Richter scale.
    His T-shirt was much washed and thin and couldn’t disguise his superb body; his faded jeans were second-skintight and torn
     in a sort of well-worn way that not even the top designers could achieve.
    Blimey again – he was fit!
    It was exactly as if her mother’s long-adored Jim Morrison poster had come to glorious living, breathing reality.
    And – blimey yet again! – he was walking towards her!
    ‘Hi,’ he grinned at her, his eyes flicking over her in a practised way. ‘You must be Amber. Gwyneth said you’d be waiting
     outside the shop. Jesus! Is all that luggage yours? How long do you reckon on staying?’
    Amber opened her mouth but no sound emerged. His voice was deep and warm and hinted at laughter. It was also soft-edged and
     southern. What on earth would she sound like to him? Foreign? Harsh? Northern-shrill?
    ‘I’m Lewis Flanagan,’ he held out a slender brown hand. ‘I think you’re expecting me.’
    Oh no she wasn’t. Far, far from it. Too stunned by his beauty to remember the niceties, Amber ignored his hand and tried to
     kick-start her brain. Her accent was the least of