Right Chapel, Wrong Couple by Colleen Collins

Author:Colleen Collins [Colleen Collins]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459274600
Publisher: Harlequin

7

LULU BLINKED OPEN her eyes and stared up at the peeling ceiling. Another wave of nausea washed over her. She swallowed, hard. This queasiness had to pass. Had to. She probably shouldn’t have jumped out of the car last night Trotting through traffic and scaling walls weren’t the healthiest of activities for a gem-toting woman. Especially when the gem was stuck in her appendix.

Drake was right. She acted before thinking.

She shifted her gaze to the clock. Eight o’clock. She had two hours before her reflexology exam. Time to get ready and fake that she felt fine. Because if she didn’t fake it, Drake and Gramps would have her stuffed into the Corvette and driven at breakneck speed to the hospital before she could say “gallbladder.”

Gallbladder. She closed her lids. What had Drake said about his last night? “I think it’s attached to my heart.”

She opened her eyes. Strange line from a James Bond type. That or he had never studied biology. She breathed in and out several times, wishing away her queasiness.

After pulling back the covers, she eased onto the floor. The pumpkin-tinted rug felt coarse under her bare feet The thick curtains, still opened from her impromptu reflexology practice last night, offered a long rectangular view of the parking lot On the cracked asphalt was sleek Sylvia, looking like a sophisticated lady sitting primly in the middle of a bus stop.

Glancing away, LuLu caught sight of Drake on his makeshift bed across the room—a mass of bronzed skin and black hair with blankets wadded around muscular thighs. She quickly turned back to the window, feeling more invigorated than if she’d had a caffeine transfusion. Was he naked?

After several moments of replaying the heady mix of tanned skin and body hair in her mind’s eye, she grew aware that her nausea had disappeared.

Maybe looking at naked men was a good thing.

Maybe it was a miracle.

She’d be written up in the National Enquirer. “I was sick, and then I looked upon a naked man and I was healed.” Women would no longer go to Lourdes to take the waters; they’d go to Chippendale’s to take the waiters.

She stared out the window at Sylvia, but looking at a buffed Corvette just didn’t do the trick. Okay, she wanted to check out Drake again. Just one peek. It wasn’t as though she was flirting with him. After all, they’d agreed last night they could never be an item. Besides, who would ever know?

Behind her, a low, methodical wheeze told her Gramps was deep in dreamland.

And Drake, who was asleep, would never know because she’d never confess. Never. She’d be on her deathbed and if someone asked if she’d ever looked upon a naked man while he was sleeping, she’d say, “Just once. But it was under strict doctor’s orders.”

On her deathbed, lying. Was that any way to end one’s life?

She shifted her gaze and caught a flash of muscled thigh.

Yes.

Besides, if it had gotten rid of her nausea, this time it’d probably clear up the scrape on her knee.

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