You Had Me at Merlot: Part 2 Read Online Free PDF

I didn’t want a boyfriend. ‘I just reeeeeeeally don’t want to sleep with you.’
    ‘You say that now, but we’ll see.’
    ‘No we won’t.’
    ‘How’s your pasta?’
    ‘Delicious. Yours?’
    ‘It would be better if I were eating it off your body.’
    ‘George, I am
this close
to getting up and leaving you sitting here all on your own.’ Except I wasn’t, because the pasta was amazing and no one else
     was going to get their hands on it.
    ‘How are the love birds?’ cooed Jamie the puppet-master, appearing out of the darkness with his guitar and a tealight in a
     heart-shaped stand, which he placed in the middle of the table.
    ‘Close to flying away.’ I glared at him through slit eyes.
    ‘Flying away together to the Bahamas on our honeymoon!’ George roared with laughter. ‘Can you picture this one in a bikini,
     holy hell …’
    ‘Save me,’ I begged Jamie.
    ‘Elle, you just need to feel a bit more romantic. Give George a chance. He’s a remarkable, macho man—’
    ‘With a huuuuge—’
    ‘George, leave it to me. Close your eyes, Bella Ella, and let the mood take you.’
    I closed my eyes, but not to let the romance in. It was purely to shut George’s face out. Jamie strummed and started softly
     singing
Bella Notte
from
Lady and the Tramp
. His voice, though not perfect, was gentle and husky, and it lulled me like a soft wine into a blissful state. I almost forgot
     who I was sitting opposite as I revelled in the pure, unadulterated cheesiness that being serenaded under the moonlight brought.
     If the ladies back home could see me now …
    ‘Well now that’s a nice smile,’ said Jamie when he finished and I opened my eyes to see him crouched next to my chair, peering
     at me. A big dopey grin had indeed crept over my face, and for a moment my eyes just twinkled with his and I wasn’t sure what
     to say.
    And then George broke the mood. ‘Hot diggidy damn, Jamie, you’ve done it. I think she’s just fallen in love with me.’
    The boiling sun was in the very centre of the sky and tendrils of my hair were sticking to my face and neck, but I couldn’t
     move them.
    I was knee-deep in an enormous vat of grapes, the hem of my dress soaking, my hands stained mauve. I moved a few inches to
     the left and my feet squashed and squelched another dozen bunches. It was messy, but the most satisfying experience you can
     have outside rolling down a hill in a bubble-wrap dress.
    Laurie, Marco, Pierre and Vicky were also in the vat, with George and everyone else on the side-lines. We’d been divided into
     small groups to try the grape-crushing, and just this once I’d refused to let go of Laurie when she was called up.
    ‘Now everybody hold hands and run on the spot as fast as you can,’ called Sofia, to the whoops of the other guests. The last
     thing I felt like in this heat was a burst of cardio, but I wasn’t going to be Donna, sitting at the side away from the others,
     not joining in, so I grabbed the hands of Pierre and Vicky and ran like mad.
    With a sudden
whoosh
Laurie’s foot slipped and she tumbled backwards into the mushy grapes, causing bursts of laughter from everyone, including
     her. Pierre and Marco fell over each other trying to help her, splatting face down into the grapes themselves. In the end
     Jamie reached in and hauled her upright, catching my eye and chuckling. It was nice to see him having fun.
    I waded over to Laurie, who threw sticky arms around my shoulders and we both slipped and fell back down with screams.
    ‘That’s what I’m talking about!’ yelped George. ‘This is better than jello wrestling!’
    I gripped the sides of the vat and yanked myself up, darting a look at Donna. That was not the kind of thing you want your
     potential future boss to remember you for. I expected a raised eyebrow, a contemptuous look, but she was staring off into
     the distance, quite oblivious to the whole farce. And I found myself wondering, for the eightieth time so far