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I wanted someone like Thomas March.
That evening, I was lying on my bed and grading papers when my phone buzzed. Angela hadn’t come home yet, and I didn’t even have to look at the caller identification to know that it was her.
“Hey,” I said. “Could you pick up a pizza on the way home? I’m starving.”
A deep masculine laugh filled my ears and my cheeks burned bright red.
“I’d bring you a pizza, but I don’t know where you live, June.”
I blushed even harder. “Mr. March! I’m so sorry!”
Thomas chuckled again. “How many times do I have to tell you – call me Thomas, June.”
I gulped and swallowed. “Okay.”
“Look, June, I was calling to ask you out to dinner on Friday night.”
I bit my lip. “Did something happen with Brett? Is everything okay?”
Thomas laughed. “Brett’s fine. He’ll be with his mother this weekend.”
“Oh,” I said quietly. “Why, then?”
“Because I want to take you out,” Thomas said. “On a date. A real date, to a nice restaurant.”
I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head.
“You can’t be serious,” I said quickly. “Me?”
“Yes, June, you.”
I bit my lip.
“So, are you free? Can I pick you up at seven-thirty this Friday?”
I nodded quickly, forgetting that Thomas wasn’t in the same room to see me.
“Yes,” I said quickly. “Yes, yes!”
Thomas laughed. “That’s the response I was hoping for,” he said in a deep growl that sent a shiver of arousal crawling down my spine. “I’m looking forward to it, June.”
I blushed hotly. “Me too,” I said softly. “Me, too.”
When we hung up, I had to pinch my arm to make sure that I was really awake. It stung, but I still felt delirious and happy. I couldn’t believe that Mr. March had asked me, of all people – me! – out for a fancy dinner date night. I was grinning so wide that both of my cheeks ached.
I couldn’t believe it. Me and Mr. March…together, out on a date!
Suddenly, life was really looking up.
Chapter Five
June
For the next few days, all I could think about was Mr. March. I still couldn’t believe that someone like him would want anything to do with someone like me.
“Come on, June. You’re so pretty,” Angela whined one morning as we were finishing up breakfast before work. “Of course he’d want to go out with you!”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m closer to his son in age than I am to him,” I said. An image of Marlene, angry and flustered, popped into my head. “And besides,” I added miserably. “I might be pretty, but his ex-wife is beautiful.”
