Part 73 (2/2)

roll, he treated her like fine gla.s.s, too considerate to put his frill

weight on her, too polite, even in pa.s.sion, to ram himself into her and

make her cries sincere.

He took her gently, with a steady rhythm that brought her just inches

from full satisfaction. He lay on her only a moment, while he collected

himself and she studied the glossy wood of the ceiling. Ever mindful of

his weight, he rolled aside and cus.h.i.+oned her head with his arm.

”Oh, that was wonderful.” She stroked his damp, pale chest. Always

practical, she knew she could finish herself off when she went upstairs.

”You're the best, honey. The very best.”

”I love you, Angie.” He let his hand linger in her hair. This was what

he wanted, he realized. All that crazed, nameless s.e.x had never been

for him. He wanted to know, when he went on the road, that there was

someone waiting for him, at home, or in those miserable hotel rooms. He

wanted what Brian had.

Not Bev, P.M. a.s.sured himself on a painful twinge of disloyalty. But a

wife, a family, a home. With Angie, he could have it all.

”Angie. Will you marry me?”

She went very still. It was everything she'd hoped for, and it was

happening. She could already see the casting agents scrambling for

her-and the huge white house in Beverly Hills. The smile lit her face.

She nearly laughed with it. Then, taking a deep breath, she s.h.i.+fted.

There were tears in her eyes when she looked down at him.

”Do you mean it? Do you really want me?”

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