Thursday, December 31, 2009

Day Four of the Countdown to the No Kiss Blogfest

Day Four of the Countdown to the No Kiss Blogfest!

This is from one of my favorite books, Match Me if You Can by Susan Elizabeth Phillips. In this scene Annabelle is a matchmaker and Heath is her client. They are away at a camp with some mutual friends and after a night of dancing and more than a little drinking they have just kissed. Annabelle broke it off after only a moment, and they are now discussing it.

[Annabelle] heard [Heath] sigh. “We’re talking about simple physical attraction brought on by some moonlight, a little dancing, and too much liquor,” he said. “Do you agree that’s what this is?”

“I guess.”

“Basic physical attraction.”

“I suppose.”

“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but it’s been a long time since I’ve had such a good time.”

“Okay, I’ll admit it was fun. The dancing,” she added hastily.

“Damned right it was. So we got a little carried away. Nothing more than circumstances, right?”

Pride and self-respect dictated that she agree. “Of course.”

“Circumstances… and a little animal instinct.” His huskier pitch began to sound almost seductive. “Nothing to get worked up about. Are you with me?”

He was throwing her off stride, but she nodded.

He moved closer, his gravelly whisper a rasp over her skin. “Perfectly understandable, right?”

“Right.” She was still nodding, almost as if he’d mesmerized her.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

She kept nodding, no longer remembering exactly what the question was.

His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “Because that’s the only way… you can explain something like this. Pure animal attraction.”

“Uh-huh,” she managed, beginning to feel like a bedazzled, bobble-headed doll.

“What sets us free”—he touched her chin, the barest brush—“to do exactly what neither of us can stop thinking about, right?” He dropped his head to kiss her.

The night wind hummed; her heart pounded. Just before his lips touched hers, his eyelids flickered, and she glimpsed the faintest hint of cunning loitering in those green irises. That’s when it hit her.”

“You snake!” She pushed against his chest.

He stepped back, all wounded innocence. “I don’t deserve that.”

“Ohmygod!” You’ve just put me through Sales 101. I bow to the master.”

“You’ve had way too much to drink.”

“The Great Salesman asks just the right questions to get the mark agreeing with everything he says. He makes her nod her stupid head until it feels like it’s coming off her neck. Then he dives in for the kill. You just tried to make a sale!” (192-3)

Phillips, Susan Elizabeth. Match Me if You Can. New York: Avon Books, 2006. (192-3)

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