Freya's Bower.com -- One Touch, One Glance Anthology excerpt

One Touch, One Glance Anthology
5 A.M. on a Sunday Morning

Copyright © 2008 Gwen Hayes

All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.



By reading this excerpt, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are younger than 18 years old, you must exit this site at once.

Best friends since college, Ryan is ready to tell Kelsey how he really feels. But is Kelsey ready to hear it?

She Said

Kelsey folded her arms across her chest and glared at Ryan over the table strewn with the remnants of a blind double date gone horribly, horribly wrong.

She couldn’t fault the jazz playing at just the perfect volume in the background or the way the candles and warm lighting glinted off the expensive crystal. Nor did the burden lie with the sumptuous feast they had consumed or the unobtrusive yet well-timed service.

No, the force behind the disaster sat directly across from her at a table set for four, but seating only two.

She held her tongue while the waiter cleared the plates but shot Ryan a look he would immediately understand.

You are gonna pay for this in chocolate.

He was often on the receiving end of that one.

Ryan held up his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t look at me. This was all your idea.”

She rolled her eyes. It had seemed like a good one at the time. Ryan was her best friend; it should have been plausible that they could manage to set each other up with compatible and interesting dates.

Their dates were compatible all right—with each other. After lame excuses and hasty goodbyes, she and Ryan were left alone—with the tab. Elise and Brandon, their respective dates, were going to “share a cab home”.

Right. Share a cab. Probably share a bed too.

And Kelsey had worn her lucky Little Black Dress and everything.

“Ryan, that was the worst date ever....” She halted her erupting tirade as the waiter positioned a decadent piece of Chocolate Cherry Torte between them and handed them each a fork. It was their second dessert, but desperate times called for desperate measures of chocolate.

“Second worst.” He dug in greedily. “The worst date ever was when you set me up with your cousin from Hoboken.”

She winced. To be fair, that was more her mother’s idea than hers.

If you don’t want to marry the handsome, eligible doctor, the least you could do is pass him on to someone else in the family, Mom had told her.

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