Something About You (Just Me & You) Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    After that, the conversation grew hazy.
    Then they’d shut up and kissed some more, only his hands
became more adventurous, boldly exploring the contours of her hips, thighs and
breasts. He hadn’t taken it any farther, though; exhausted by the port, they’d
both drifted into oblivion.
    Sabrina didn’t know what was apropos now. Should she wake
him? Suggest grabbing breakfast tacos at a downtown diner with the freshly
bedded, hungover twenty- and thirty-something hipster set? No , she
decided firmly. That might suggest that she was up for more serious high jinks.
Having a one-night stand with any friend of her best friend’s husband was
particularly verboten.
    That would only create complications.
    The dull throb in her temples heralded the arrival of a
hangover. Her mouth tasted like the bottom of a hamster’s cage. She wistfully
thought of her queen-sized bed, with its chocolate-colored silk coverlet and
piles of down pillows. But tomorrow was her first day back at the Capitol, and
life’s administrative minutiae had to be dealt with before legislative session
ground into slow gear. There were bills to pay, dry cleaning to pick up, and
coffee beans to grind.
    Wedding presents that she still needed to pack up and
return.
    She consulted her cell phone. It was almost eight-thirty.
Good. She was still ahead of the day.
    She slid off the tux jacket and carefully placed it over
Gage’s shoulders. Then she searched the grounds for her sandals, which she
finally located under a sprinkler head. Avoiding the curious gaze of a trio of
groundskeepers, she pulled up the dew-drenched hem of her dress and scurried
across the lawn to the parking lot in bare feet.
    Two cars remained, one of which was her Audi coupe. Four
years into their courtship, Jackson had titled her his old car — if a
luxury vehicle with less than twenty thousand miles on it could be considered
expendable — replacing her ancient Volkswagen Jetta, held together by
crossed fingers and a mystery wire. Her ex-fiancé was one of few people in a
rising economic class who could afford to make such grand gestures.
    The other car was a red Pontiac GTO convertible, circa early
1970s. It appeared to have the original paint job. The car was well maintained,
but not fastidiously so. Sabrina had noticed that the amount of attention men
gave to their vehicles was almost always inversely proportionate to their
bedroom skills.
    Which explained a lot about both her sex life and Gage
Fitzgerald’s.
    Once safely inside her Audi, she started the engine and
cranked the heater to full blast. So there it was. In a nutshell: She, maid of
honor, had gotten drunk at a wedding reception and made out with the best man,
an auburn-headed Iowan who drove a vintage babe magnet, almost going to second
base — but not quite. She thought of her hand tentatively snaking down his
thigh, circling the pronounced bulge in his trousers.
    It didn’t matter that her hangover was from vintage port
rather than cheap wine coolers or that she’d picked her way over peacock
droppings instead of ashtrays. Skulking away from the scene of passion was
reserved for moody teenagers and first-year college students.
    It was entirely and unutterably cliché.
    And now that Molly’s un-wedding was over, there was little
chance she’d see Gage again.

CHAPTER THREE
    In spite of Sabrina’s well-laid plans to get her personal life
in order, the weekend ended all too soon without yielding fruitful results. All
she’d accomplished after she’d straggled home on Sunday was a call to a
downtown Chinese delivery joint, a John Hughes movie marathon and a blackout
nap on the couch.
    Now it was the beginning of a brand new week.
    She pushed through the hangers in her closet, which boasted
a selection of clothing in sedate shades of gray, charcoal, brown and black
appropriate for women in her profession. None of her shirts displayed cleavage,
nor were any of the dresses and skirts cut above