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Don’t worry. Trisha and I are going to be taking a boat out and may row by to check on you.
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Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device
NO! LANA!!! NO!!!! DO NOT COME BY!!! If you do, I will never speak to you again.
BYE!!! Have fun!
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Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device
Friday, May 5, 12:55 p.m., limo on the way to Central Park
I will stay away from Michael.
I will not hug him.
I will not even shake his hand.
I will not do anything that could, in any way, result in my smelling him, and losing control of myself, and doing something I might regret.
Not that it matters, because he doesn’t like me that way. Anymore. He thinks of me as just a friend.
But I mean, I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of him.
And anyway, I have a boyfriend. Who really, really loves me. Enough to want what’s best for me.
So, in conclusion:
Stay away from Michael—Check.
Do not hug him—Check.
Don’t even shake his hand—Check.
> Do not do anything that could result in smelling him—Check.
Got it. I think I’m good. I can do this. I can totally do this. This is cinchy. We’re just friends. And it’s just lunch. Friends have lunch all the time.
Since when do friends give each other million-dollar pieces of medical equipment, though?
Oh, God. I can’t do this.
We’re here. I think I’m going to be sick.
An excerpt from Ransom My Heart by Daphne Delacroix
Finnula had been kissed before, it was true.
But the few men who’d tried it had lived to regret it, since she was as swift with her fists as she was with a bow.
Yet there was something about these particular lips, pressing so intently against hers, that caused nary a feeling of rancor within her.
He was an excellent kisser, her prisoner, his mouth moving over hers in a slightly inquisitive manner—not tentatively, by any means, but as if he was asking a question for which only she, Finnula, had the answer. It wasn’t until Finnula felt the intrusion of his tongue inside her mouth that she realized she’d answered that question, somehow, though she hardly knew how. Now there was nothing questioning at all in his manner; he’d launched the first volley and realized that Finnula’s defenses were down. He attacked, showing no mercy.
It was then that it struck Finnula, as forcibly as a blow, that this kiss was something out of the ordinary, and that perhaps she was not in as much control of the situation as she would have liked. Though she struggled against the sudden, dizzying assault on her senses, she could no sooner free herself from the hypnotic spell of his lips than he’d been able to break the bonds with which she’d tied him. She went completely limp in his arms, as if she were melting against him, except for her hands, which, as if of their own volition, slipped around his brawny neck, tangling in the surprisingly soft hair half-buried beneath the flung-back hood of his cloak. What was it, she wondered dimly, about the introduction of this man’s tongue into her mouth that seemed to have a direct correlation to a very sudden and very noticeable tightening sensation between her thighs?
