She Woke Up Married Read Online Free

have to deal with this very soon.
    He decided to leave her with a good memory for the next few weeks.
    “Well, Paris, I see you are ready to go.” Turner stepped up close to her and took her in his arms. She seemed a little stunned and dropped her round suitcase with a clunk onto the floor. “I wanted to say a proper good-bye to my one-night wife.” He tipped up her chin with his finger and gave her a toe-curling, remember-me-forever kiss. The future hung clouded and uncertain before them, so this kiss was going to have to last until the fog lifted. He made sure it was a good one.

2
All Shook Up
    Paris felt her lips still tingling from that amazing kiss Turner had given her. That devil. Marrying her when she’d been in a compromised state. Of all the low tricks.
    “Champagne, Miss James?”
    “No possible way,” Paris snapped. The stewardess looked at her sharply. “It’s just that I’ve sworn off alcohol. Could you pour me a nice ginger ale, please?”
    “Certainly. Vegas has that effect on lots of people.” The stewardess smiled and poured out a ginger ale, handing Paris the cup and the can.
    “Thanks.” Paris took a sip. The stewardess pushed the cart onward toward the main cabin, leaving Paris in first class sipping ginger ale and watching the on-flight movie, Down With Love ,with sound coming through headphones. It was giving her a headache.
    The flight was bumpy, and her stomach was still unhappy about her recent…bender.
    Vegas has that effect. What an understatement. She just hoped that Turner would carry through with the annulment. When she’d given him specific instructions on that, he’d just sort of winked at her and said, “Of course, dear, I’ll do the right thing.” Which didn’t give her the greatest sense of confidence.
    Turner Pruitt. What an amazingly small world. He used to write the most wonderful poetry in Sister Agnes’s creative writing class and had even put some to music. Paris had always been amazed at his ability to be so open and confident. In some ways he’d given her the courage to run away to New York and start modeling. She even remembered being self-conscious in the early days and telling herself to be like Turner—brave and bold.
    No one had known more about her than Turner, Paris remembered. She’d written two sets of poetry for that class. The set she’d turned in to Sister Agnes, and the set she’d let Turner read. Poems about her family and the heartache they’d caused her.
    Paris felt the old pain surface, and wished she hadn’t sworn off alcohol.
    The plane bumped again and she took off herheadphones. She adjusted her pillow and decided to try and get some sleep. Maybe she’d wake up tomorrow and find out this had all been a dream. Not a bad dream really, waking up married to Turner, having spent a wonderful, passionate night together, but a dream anyhow, because she’d just left Turner behind and was going back to her life in New York.
    That would work out for the best. This way she wouldn’t break his heart, and if she remembered Turner right, he had a very big heart.
    Something was itching her. She excused herself and went to the tiny little horrid airplane powder room to take down her spandex panties.
    Paris let out a gasp that half of first class must have heard, because what she found rolled up in her waistband was her Nortrel patch. It must have loosened up during their bathtub adventures, or from the massage oil, and been hanging by a thread since last night. She grabbed onto the tiny sink station for support and felt herself swoon with fear. Oh my God Oh my God. She’d gone on a honeymoon with Turner Pruitt and had compromised her birth control. He had used a condom, hadn’t he? Him and his old-fashioned no premarital sex thing, he could have decided since they were married it was okay to just go natural. He was like that.
    Paris decided to spend the rest of the trip praying for mercy. Turner had reawakened herspiritual side, all right, Amen