Take A Look At Me Now. Miranda Dickinson
Читать онлайн.| Название | Take A Look At Me Now |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | Miranda Dickinson |
| Жанр | Зарубежные любовные романы |
| Серия | |
| Издательство | Зарубежные любовные романы |
| Год выпуска | 0 |
| isbn | 9780007535125 |
Chapter Seven: Cable cars and seaside jazz
Chapter Nine: Fortune cookies and fate
Chapter Ten: Eat your heart out, Tony Bennett
Chapter Eleven: A spoonful of sugar
Chapter Twelve: Rare finds in Haight-Ashbury
Chapter Thirteen: Beware the chance remark
Chapter Fifteen: Interesting developments
Chapter Sixteen: Serendipity strikes again
Chapter Seventeen: It’s only coffee …
Chapter Eighteen: Getting to know you
Chapter Nineteen: The sweetest thing
Chapter Twenty-One: Tall tales and revelations
Chapter Twenty-Two: Three little words
Chapter Twenty-Three: Secrets and lies
Chapter Twenty-Four: Time to go home
Chapter Twenty-Five: Time for action
Chapter Twenty-Six: An unexpected offer
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The hard work begins
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Moving the goalposts
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Compromise or die
Chapter Thirty: Hello again, hello …
Chapter Thirty-One: Back to reality
Chapter Thirty-Two: Little lost girl
Chapter Thirty-Three: Welcome to Nell’s Place
Five must-see films set in San Francisco*
My ten favourite places in San Francisco
CHAPTER ONE
The day that changed my life
When the thing that was going to change my life arrived, it didn’t look anything like I’d expected.
Had you asked me before – say, for instance, when I was wedged into the unfamiliar armpit of a fellow commuter on the bus into work that morning, trying my hardest not to retch at his unique aroma of onions soaked in B.O., and wishing for something in my life to change – I’d have predicted it to look like a priceless object. And I would have expected it to arrive with a Hallelujah chorus and a dramatic, edge-of-your-seat voiceover by that bloke from X Factor:
‘Nell Sullivan has been waiting for something to change her life. And NOW. This. Is. IT …’
What I didn’t expect was for it to be a three-line message scribbled on a lime-green sticky note, stuck to the screen of my computer at work. Especially not from Aidan Matthews – my line manager in Islington Council’s Planning Department and, perhaps more importantly, the man who had been the on-off love interest (and nearest thing to a steady relationship) in my life for the best part of five years.
Hi Nell
Any chance you could find an excuse to pop into my office this morning? Things I need to tell you. A x
As soon as I saw it, I knew my wish from the B.O. bus seat that morning was about to bear fruit. Aidan wanted me back. Until now I hadn’t realised quite how much I wanted to resolve things with him. When we had broken up last time it had been a mutual decision – both of us tired of navigating the problems we’d never been able to solve. But as my finger traced his familiar handwriting on the note, my heart began to race. Maybe we’d both known this would happen: it always had done before. We were destined for each other; it was evident in the chemistry that still sparked between us even when we weren’t together. It had been building for a while: with the lime-green message I now held his intentions were obvious.
Avoiding the suspicious stare of Connie Bagley, the sour-faced secretary who perched like a bitter owl at the desk next to mine (and would happily run to management with the merest whiff of accusation against me), I sauntered nonchalantly across the grey carpet to see Vicky Grocutt, Assistant Planning Officer – and my best friend.
‘Morning, Vicky,’ I said, making a point of raising my voice enough for Cranky Connie to hear. ‘Do you mind if we go over the applications for Domestic Works?’
I saw her eyes light up at the promise of potentially salacious gossip.
‘No problem, Nell. I’m afraid there’s quite a few to get through.’ She gave a knowing smile and stood, grabbing a large armful of files. ‘Perhaps we’d better take this into the meeting room?’
‘Excellent idea.’
Smiling innocently at the repressed rage of our colleague, Vicky and I barely managed to keep our giggles at bay until we were safely behind the closed meeting room door.
‘I’ve got to hand it to you, Nell,’ Vicky laughed, tossing the files on the oval beech meeting table and flopping into a leather office chair, ‘you certainly know how to wind that woman up.’
‘She’s her own worst enemy. If she didn’t take so much pleasure in ratting on everyone it wouldn’t be as much fun to annoy her.’ I filled two mugs from