Monday, January 27, 2014

UPON MEETING SOMEONE THE FIRST TIME



She held out her hand for Winston. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Winship.”
“Winston, please.”
“Winston? . . . Winston Winship?”  She spoke the words reverently, mesmerized at how, even as a question, the name rang with the chimes of history. As she turned to leave, she knew he was staring after her.
She hadn’t meant anything by uttering his name, she told herself later, other than how pleasant the alliteration sounded, almost like it was a name plucked from a romantic World War II movie featuring those handsome RAF pilots with the black wavy hair.
Actually, the guy had all the makings of a spoiled prick—the overly confident demeanor, the moneyed good looks. But the name wouldn’t go away. Winston Winship, she said to herself, repeating it again and again.
It was making her feel she had just slipped into a plush, royal purple bathrobe after doing thirty laps in the spa pool high in the Swiss Alps and was about to take the first sip of a martini before biting into a juicy steak.
Nothing sexual. Just a nice, comfortable feeling that all was right with the world.

 --From THE MOUNTING STORM, first novel in the Kate Conway trilogy. ow.ly/s9SUB


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