the wedding.”
“What’s left? I put the deposit on the mansion. It’s all ours.”
“You’re such a guy,” I say, teasing him. “We haven’t decided on the caterer yet. I have to order the flowers. And my dress… My dress…”
I sit up and pull away from him. Now that I’m thinking about my beautiful stolen dress, I don’t feel cuddly. I start muttering about the photographers and the things I’d like to have happen to them.
Dylan sits up straight. “Jess, this is exactly why you should go to Rome. You know what doesn’t matter? The catering. I’ll order pizza for everyone if I have to. Or fried chicken.”
I shake my head. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’ll just die if my closest friends and family have to eat chicken from a paper bucket at my wedding. That sounds way too much like a wedding back in my hometown.”
“Fine. I’ll get a caterer. Nothing but the best for my pretty girl.”
I cross my arms. “While you’re at it, grab me a dress.”
He crosses his arms, making fun of me. “I’m sure a girl as clever as you can find a wedding dress in Rome.”
I pause and really think about what he’s saying. They do have wedding dresses in Rome. And no annoying photographers.
“Is this happening?” I ask. “Am I going to leave this city for a whole month? I can’t. I can’t be without you that long. I’m sure Rome is beautiful, but I want to experience it with you.”
He leans in close, studies my face, then kisses me hard. His hands go to my waist, then he pulls me toward him. He leans back onto the couch cushions while pulling me on top of him.
Our bodies press together, our legs moving automatically so we’re intertwined. Heat flares up within me. I don’t know if I can wait until we get to the bedroom tonight.
We kiss some more, and then I pull back so I can stare down into his beautiful, dark eyes.
“Go to Rome,” he says, his voice quiet and raspy.
“Not without you.”
He reaches up and sweeps my hair behind my ear. “I’ll be there,” he says.
“You’ll be here in L.A., in a recording studio. You’ll be working on a new song, as always, and you’ll miss your flight. Like how you missed Riley’s birthday party, and—”
“Hush.” He lifts his head up and kisses me. His hands move up my back, luring me deeper into his captivating embrace.
I pull back. “It’s true. I know you, Dylan. If I go to Rome, you’ll be so caught up, I’ll be lucky to even get a phone call.”
“ Bellissima ,” he says.
“Belliss-a-yourself.”
“That means very beautiful in Italian. And I’m serious. Bellissima, I will meet you in Rome.” He blinks, looking very solemn. “I swear.”
Chapter 11
Tuesday morning, I walk in to Chet’s office and tell him I’m going to Rome.
He looks around to make sure nobody’s within listening range.
“Won’t this interfere with your wedding preparations?” He grins, his square-jawed face and emerald eyes as charming as ever. “I don’t want to be the mean slave-driver boss who ruins your special day. Maybe I should take someone else.”
I give him a sideways look. “Someone else? What are you up to?” I step closer to his desk and whisper, “Is it the new girl you just hired? I hear Rome is very romantic.”
“Jess.” His eyes widen, and he looks like he might just start blushing. “You know I don’t have time for anything but running the Morris empire.”
“Right. So, when do we leave? Next Monday?”
“Thursday.”
I think it over for a minute. It’s soon, but I can swing it.
I spend the rest of the day running around in a mad panic getting things off my desk.
Wednesday goes about the same.
I’m totally stressed by the end of the day.
I work right through dinner, wrapping up the final things, then I go straight from work to The Roxy in West Hollywood.
The girls insisted on throwing me a Bon Voyage party. I want to go home to Dylan, but he’s not even there. He has an interview with Rolling Stone
“What’s left? I put the deposit on the mansion. It’s all ours.”
“You’re such a guy,” I say, teasing him. “We haven’t decided on the caterer yet. I have to order the flowers. And my dress… My dress…”
I sit up and pull away from him. Now that I’m thinking about my beautiful stolen dress, I don’t feel cuddly. I start muttering about the photographers and the things I’d like to have happen to them.
Dylan sits up straight. “Jess, this is exactly why you should go to Rome. You know what doesn’t matter? The catering. I’ll order pizza for everyone if I have to. Or fried chicken.”
I shake my head. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’ll just die if my closest friends and family have to eat chicken from a paper bucket at my wedding. That sounds way too much like a wedding back in my hometown.”
“Fine. I’ll get a caterer. Nothing but the best for my pretty girl.”
I cross my arms. “While you’re at it, grab me a dress.”
He crosses his arms, making fun of me. “I’m sure a girl as clever as you can find a wedding dress in Rome.”
I pause and really think about what he’s saying. They do have wedding dresses in Rome. And no annoying photographers.
“Is this happening?” I ask. “Am I going to leave this city for a whole month? I can’t. I can’t be without you that long. I’m sure Rome is beautiful, but I want to experience it with you.”
He leans in close, studies my face, then kisses me hard. His hands go to my waist, then he pulls me toward him. He leans back onto the couch cushions while pulling me on top of him.
Our bodies press together, our legs moving automatically so we’re intertwined. Heat flares up within me. I don’t know if I can wait until we get to the bedroom tonight.
We kiss some more, and then I pull back so I can stare down into his beautiful, dark eyes.
“Go to Rome,” he says, his voice quiet and raspy.
“Not without you.”
He reaches up and sweeps my hair behind my ear. “I’ll be there,” he says.
“You’ll be here in L.A., in a recording studio. You’ll be working on a new song, as always, and you’ll miss your flight. Like how you missed Riley’s birthday party, and—”
“Hush.” He lifts his head up and kisses me. His hands move up my back, luring me deeper into his captivating embrace.
I pull back. “It’s true. I know you, Dylan. If I go to Rome, you’ll be so caught up, I’ll be lucky to even get a phone call.”
“ Bellissima ,” he says.
“Belliss-a-yourself.”
“That means very beautiful in Italian. And I’m serious. Bellissima, I will meet you in Rome.” He blinks, looking very solemn. “I swear.”
Chapter 11
Tuesday morning, I walk in to Chet’s office and tell him I’m going to Rome.
He looks around to make sure nobody’s within listening range.
“Won’t this interfere with your wedding preparations?” He grins, his square-jawed face and emerald eyes as charming as ever. “I don’t want to be the mean slave-driver boss who ruins your special day. Maybe I should take someone else.”
I give him a sideways look. “Someone else? What are you up to?” I step closer to his desk and whisper, “Is it the new girl you just hired? I hear Rome is very romantic.”
“Jess.” His eyes widen, and he looks like he might just start blushing. “You know I don’t have time for anything but running the Morris empire.”
“Right. So, when do we leave? Next Monday?”
“Thursday.”
I think it over for a minute. It’s soon, but I can swing it.
I spend the rest of the day running around in a mad panic getting things off my desk.
Wednesday goes about the same.
I’m totally stressed by the end of the day.
I work right through dinner, wrapping up the final things, then I go straight from work to The Roxy in West Hollywood.
The girls insisted on throwing me a Bon Voyage party. I want to go home to Dylan, but he’s not even there. He has an interview with Rolling Stone
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