Cross My Heart (A Contemporary Romance Novel)

Iowa—and Michael.
    The band was starting to talk seriously about getting back together. She’d spoken with her director friend about the possibility, and he’d been open to the idea of her working on the movie remotely, travelling to L.A. once a month or so. As she’d told Michael, it seemed like a dozen different roads were opening up in front of her.
    The only problem was, she couldn’t go down them all.
    She wondered what it had been like in the past, when people’s choices—women’s especially—were so much more limited. Had she lived in those times, she would have longed for more freedom...for the wealth of opportunities that presented themselves to her now.
    She kept half-expecting Michael to bring up the future himself, but he never did. It occurred to her suddenly that he might not feel as torn as she did. Maybe now that he’d had some time to think about it, he was glad things between them were only temporary.
    Or maybe he was planning to say something tonight, their last night together before Claire came home.
    Familiar panic seized her at the thought, and she realized that as much as she’d been thinking about a possible future with Michael, there was no way she was ready to talk to him about it.
    She’d been staring at the same page for at least ten minutes. Now she set the book aside with an impatient sigh, looking up to see the mailman pulling away from the curb. She rose to her feet and walked across the lawn to the mailbox, glad for a chance to stretch her legs. Maybe she’d go for another run today, even though she’d done her five miles that morning.
    Bills, her copy of Rolling Stone ...and an elegant, cream-colored envelope with no stamp in the corner, and nothing but her name written in clear script across the front.
    Miss Jenna Landry
    Bemused, she walked back to the patio and sat down before opening the envelope and pulling out the single sheet of stationary.
    The pleasure of your company is requested this evening at seven o’clock, for dinner and entertainment.
    The entertainment is a secret. Don’t even try to wheedle it out of me.
    Formal attire is required. Bonus points if you wear red, and extra bonus points if it’s low-cut.
    If you’re wondering about the occasion, it’s to celebrate the end of an incredible two weeks—and the beginning of what I hope will be a life-long friendship.
    Michael
    She read it again and again. After a minute she took a deep breath and held the invitation to her heart.
    Now she knew why he hadn’t said anything about the future. It was because they’d agreed not to, and he was respecting those boundaries. He was respecting her . He’d loved their time together as much as she had, and he wanted to keep her in his life.
    And he wasn’t going to put any pressure on her.
    A wave of energy went through her and she jumped to her feet. Nothing she had in her closet was good enough for tonight. She was going shopping, and she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she found a dress Michael would see in his dreams for years.
    * * *
    When she opened her door to him that night, she knew she’d picked the right one.
    She’d gone with something deceptively simple, a tea-length cocktail dress with spaghetti straps and a deeply scooped neckline. It was made of ruby red silk and clung softly to her waist, where it flared out to create a floating hemline that swirled around her when she walked.
    Her legs were bare, and she stood tall in red stilettos. She wore her hair up, something she didn’t do often, gathering the black curls into a knot tied with a red satin ribbon.
    The only jewelry she wore was a pair of ruby earrings that had belonged to her grandmother. The only makeup she wore was mascara and lipstick—lipstick that matched her dress exactly.
    “Wow,” was all Michael said, but the look in his eyes was worth the small fortune she’d spent downtown today.
    He was looking incredibly good himself, in a charcoal gray suit with a crisp white shirt and dark blue tie.
    She grinned at him. “So, do I get my bonus points?”
    “Yeah. You do.”
    He handed her a bouquet of red roses, and she bent her head to breathe in the scent. “Oh, Michael, they’re beautiful. Come in while I put them in water,” she said, but he shook his head.
    “Not a chance. If I go in there with you we’re not coming out for at least an hour, and we have reservations at Ambrosia.”
    “Do we really? I’ve never eaten there, and I’ve always wanted to.”
    “Then