Word Play by Amalie Silver

Author:Amalie Silver [Silver, Amalie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Humour
Goodreads: 20700340
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2014-06-15T04:00:00+00:00

mis·chance (mĭs-′chăn(t)s) n.

1. bad luck 2. a mishap or misfortune

Lauren a.k.a. Monica Singer

It wasn’t a dream. And it wasn’t a manuscript.

Waking the next morning with a languid stretch, I turned hastily to find him lying, entangled in the white sheets. I sighed with relief.

The chances of this arrangement unfolding into a plausible, working, real-life scenario were probably unrealistic. But I wanted to lie back and enjoy the possibility of this becoming something more and not dwell on the buts and the what-ifs that would eventually be blocked by thoughts of our jobs, our geographic situation, or the fact that he still had no idea who I really was. At that point I was still blissfully naïve that we could make it work somehow.

He lay naked as I watched the rise and fall of his back with each heavy breath. My curiosity getting the better of me, I carefully peeled back the sheet, trying to remain discreet without causing him to stir. There was something that I desperately needed to see.

And there it was: a light pink smudge high on his right butt cheek in the shape of a spade.

Staring down at the birthmark left me conflicted. However much it confirmed my suspicions, it still meant that he was Michael Rourke: a man I’d spent a few hours with in real life, but thousands of hours of writing time. My memory had eluded me, and I could only go on the few visual flashes of him in my head and a manuscript that had been altered hundreds of times over to create the perfect hero.

I idolized him.

I made him into the man I wanted him to be—who Louise and my editors wanted him to be.

I giggled inwardly, wondering at the circumstances that had brought us back together after all this time. Not only had it been a reunion of forgotten lovers, but that the universe deemed it necessary to put us together in the same room, and more specifically, back into each others arms.

I decided I’d just have to get to know him all over again—to keep any past time we’d spent together there, and to move forward without any assumptions of who he was.

I padded to the bathroom, pausing to look at the contacts case resting on the counter. Smiling, I picked it up and swept my thumb over its surface. I closed my eyes and pictured the Michael of years before taking off his glasses, flashing his heart-thumping smile and sending warmth down deep within my belly.

I sat in the bathroom, letting my eyes wander to the toiletries that lay next to the sink. Body spray, deodorant, toothpaste and brush, razor, shaving cream, and cotton swabs all lying haphazardly in a plastic bag. I smiled again, thinking about how hard he tried to mask himself—using cologne and over-the-top aftershave. What he didn’t realize was that he smelled damn delicious just as he was.

After washing my hands, I tip-toed back into the suite and walked toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

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