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Excerpt:
Matt
jumped off the stage and made his way to whassername. Shit, he couldn’t believe
he’d already forgotten her name. She was huddled in the front row, hair soaked
and T-shirt clinging to—he swallowed hard—every part of her.
“Shit,
I’m sorry. I told you to stay out of the front row.”
“I didn’t hear you. And by the time I figured out
what you’d said, I was already mentally figuring out how to build an ark.” She
blew a heavy wet strand of jet-black hair from her face.
As her gray eyes met his, he immediately remembered
her name: Anya.
Anya. A silence fell as her name ran through his
head, backward and forward, until it became a part of his regular vocabulary.
Like “water,” and “air,” and “sexy as hell.”
What? Out of all the girls I’ve met since becoming
“Will,” I get the hots for the one here to dig up our secrets.
Great
going, Matt. Great.
“Just call me Noah,” she said as if she was reading
his mind, the way his twin sometimes did.
He recovered his train of thought and laughed,
relieved that she had such a great sense of humor. “If it’s any consolation,
I’m a lot wetter than you, and I have to do this nearly every evening, whether
it’s eighty degrees out or forty.”
She frowned. “Dude, you’re in the South. It’s never going
to be forty degrees here.”
Busted. “True. I was really going for the sympathy
vote.” He shrugged and grinned, heartened to see that she was grinning back.
“I’m not one for the sympathy vote. I vote practical
all day long.” She stuffed her wet notebook into her wet bag and stood up.
“Good to know. And on that practical note, we should
change into some dry clothes.”
“No kidding.”
Her smile had gone, and right there, he knew he’d do
anything to see that mischievous grin again. Dammit. Get a grip. Diversion.
Quick. “Hey, if you’re writing about us, don’t mention any details about the
number you just saw us rehearse,” he said. “It’s the finale, and although
people can’t help but post photos of it, we try not to mention the specifics…just
to maybe surprise the people who aren’t on the fan sites.”
“Well it certainly surprised me. No problem. I won’t
mention it,” she said.
Suddenly he pictured her totally wet, dripping from the
rain or the shower. Her hair down, a real smile on her face, just for him.
Water running down her shoulders, maybe clumping her eyelashes together…
Clumping
her…? Jesus, Matt. Shut up, you wimp.
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