It Had to Be You Georgia Clark (bookstand for reading txt) 📖

he’ll get a potbelly, and they’ll start investing a lot of time and money in not aging. Bickering becomes woven into the fabric of their relationship until it carpets the entire house. There’s nothing new to talk about, nothing left to discover. Even sex is a drag, and it’s no longer spontaneous and passionate, it’s planned and it’s boring. And one day, they’ll wake up and realize they haven’t just gotten sick of each other: they can’t stand the person they married. That the person lying next to them in bed is just doing a comically bad impression of the man they used to love.”

Behind the decks, Zach was playing “Brown Eyed Girl” and everyone was up and dancing, singing along: “ ‘Sha la la la la la la la la, la te da, la te da.’ ”

Savannah picked her words with care. “That doesn’t happen to everyone, Liv.”

“No. Not everyone.” Liv’s eyes didn’t leave the couple, laughing as their friends and family danced around them, sloshing glasses of organic wine. “But half the weddings I’ve planned in the last twenty years ended in divorce. And they all looked exactly like this.”

When Savannah met Liv’s eyes, she expected to see bitter smugness or cold satisfaction: game, set, match. But what she actually saw surprised her. In Liv’s usually hawklike eyes, the eyes that didn’t miss a trick, was soft and billowing sadness.

“Come on,” Liv said, turning away. “Let’s start on the pack-up list.”

15

The formerly busy kitchen was quiet. Zia emptied the leftovers of what had to be her hundredth plate into the garbage. She didn’t mind being on cleanup, but it was depressing that almost a billion people lived on less than two dollars a day, and here she was throwing away landfills of locally grown salad and green-pea risotto. She filled three takeout containers for her sister, closing the lids with a satisfied snap.

“Hello?”

It was Clay Russo. The actor had a slightly embarrassed look on his face and a giant red-wine stain on his shirt. His mouth lifted in a pleased smile. “Hello again.”

“Hey.” Zia smiled back. “Interesting after-party look.”

“Dance-floor mishap. One of those drunk bridesmaids you were warning me about.”

“Dangerous. Let me see if I can find some club soda.” Her heart picked up, pattering. “I thought you were leaving after dinner.”

“You were right: the DJ’s great. Haven’t danced that much in ages.” Clay looked flushed and a little tipsy—not drunk, just less careful than earlier. His eyes were bright, fixed on her in a way that was comforting, and strangely thrilling. “I didn’t see you during the dinner service.”

“I wasn’t working the floor. Just cleanup. How was it?”

“Excellent. The risotto was fantastic. Basically licked my plate clean.”

At least she wasn’t throwing away Clay’s leftovers. She held up a can of club soda. “This’ll get that stain out.” She looked at him expectedly.

Clay’s eyebrows flickered down. “Should I just…”

Zia gestured around the kitchen. “Everyone’s on cake duty. There’s no one else here.”

He unbuttoned the top button. “As long as I’m not sexually harassing you by stripping down.”

She laughed. “I’m basically ordering you to.”

“Not mad about it.” In one fluid motion, Clay slipped off his shirt, revealing his bare torso.

Zia almost did a double take. Clay’s body was the brutal, beautiful wedge of a Greek warrior. Smooth, bronzed skin. A quilt of stomach muscles. His arms were the right sort of big, both biceps bulging and thick. She was vaguely aware Clay was in action movies, and yes, this was the body of a man destined to save the day, and look damn good doing it.

“Wow. You have a beautiful body.” She took the shirt off him, matter-of-fact. “You must get that all the time.”

He chuckled, and was he actually blushing? “Not to my face.”

Zia tipped the soda water over the stain. “Life’s too short not to say what’s on your mind.”

He stood next to her at the sink, looking a little uneasy at being semi-naked in her presence, which was, Zia thought, pretty cute. “Unfortunately I don’t get to do a lot of that.”

“Well, what are you thinking right now?”

“Right now?”

She tingled. She was flirting but pretended she wasn’t. “Yeah.”

“I’d say… that… you have a beautiful body too, Zia.”

Blood rushed her cheeks. She focused on the shirt. “I’m pretty active. Biking, rock climbing, surfing.”

“Surfing, nice. Never tried it.”

She wrung out the material, squeezing hard. Her skin felt tender. “It’s amazing. Total feeling of freedom. Nothing like it in the world.”

“Nothing?”

His eyes were the color of a jungle cat. His lips were parted, which made Zia conscious of her own mouth. This man was attracted to her. She was always the last person to figure it out, but right now, she was certain. The idea of kissing him flashed in her mind. A sticky wave of heat pulsed through her body. She swayed an inch closer to him. He did the same.

Holy libido: get a grip. Zia backed up a step and exhaled. “Let’s get this dry.”

Clay snapped back to reality. He looked as confused as she was. “Yeah, I need to get going.”

In the white-tiled bathroom, the dull roar of the hand dryer made conversation impossible.

She snuck a glance at him and caught him watching her. His gaze bounced away. She could not kiss Clay. He was basically a stranger, and she was working. Plus she’d signed some sort of contract about this guy, and not mauling him with her mouth was probably in the fine print.

As soon as the shirt was wearable, she all but thrust at it him and busied herself with washing her hands while he buttoned it up. But when she turned around, a light laugh escaped her lips. His shirt was askew. “You missed a button.”

He followed her gaze and let out a soft, amused breath.

Without thinking, she moved toward him to rebutton it. Being so near to him was like seeing a statue come to life: startling, beautiful. She was so close he could take her in his arms. So