Millie Criswell - Body Language

“I still desire you.”

The word desire sent quivers running up and down Ellie’s spine, like a feather on bare skin, creating need within her. And Michael certainly knew how to fill that need.

“I think we should order dessert. I’m hungry for something chocolate.” Chocolate had the power to make the pain go away; it was also an effective cure for sexual frustration.

Michael’s grin was borderline erotic, and it sent her pulse racing. “I seem to recall that when you were hungry for chocolate that usually meant you were hungry for something else.”

Shit! It was true. When she was horny, she craved chocolate.

“I don’t remember anything of the kind. And I just realized I can’t have dessert. I’m on a diet.”

Well, at least her trainer would be proud of her.

“You don’t need to lose weight. You look perfect to me.”

“I am perfect. Perfectly impervious to your charms, Michael Deavers, so don’t try sweet-talking me into anything. I’m not buying it. Sex is purely an animal instinct—”

“We can go back to my place.”

The devil was tempting….

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Staying Single

“A wry, witty and charming tale about getting even.”

—Romantic Times

“Well worth the read! I eagerly look forward to more of Millie’s books.”

—Kathy Boswell, The Best Reviews

“Staying Single has it all! It’s funny, witty, [and] fast-paced with engaging secondary characters.”

—Romance Readers Connection

Mad About Mia

“Once again the irrepressible Criswell provides readers with a funny and heartwarming story.”

—Booklist

“Lighthearted and good-natured reading.”

—Romantic Times

“Great characters…An entertaining, fun, and witty read.”

—Old Book Barn Gazette

More Praise for Millie Criswell

“Criswell…makes her delightful contemporary debut with a funny and sexy romance…a worthwhile read.”

—Publishers Weekly on The Trouble with Mary

“Romantic comedy has a new star and her name is Millie Criswell.”

—New York Times bestselling author Janet Evanovich

“Millie Criswell’s writing is simply brilliant! Romantic comedy is the perfect showcase for her extraordinary talent.”

—Suzanne Coleburn, Belles and Beaux of Romance

Suddenly Single

Mad About Mia

Staying Single

The Trials of Angela

What To Do about Annie?

The Pregnant Miss Potter

The Trouble with Mary

The Marrying Man

The Wedding Planner

True Love

Defiant

Dangerous

Desperate

Primrose

Sweet Laurel

Wild Heather

To Alexandra Marie Criswell, the new love of my life!

This one’s for you, sweetie! Love, Grandma

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

“Never relinquish your own apartment unless you have an engagement ring firmly on your finger, or you’re broke.”

ELLIE PETERS WAS HAVING a midlife crisis.

Well, not exactly midlife, since she was only thirty-two years, three months, and seventeen days old. But she lived in midtown Manhattan, so the “mid” part was definitely valid.

And as crises went, hers was major!

“We need to find a place to live, Barn, and we need to find it fast. Brian will be back from L.A. next week, and we’ve got to be moved out of here by then.”

Her idea, not his.

Brian foolishly thought they could still work things out, even after he’d called Barnaby “God’s stupid mistake” and suggested to Ellie that she take the dog to the pound, and all because he’d peed in his Bruno Magli loafers.

It had been an accident, for crying out loud!

Ellie’s bulldog, who had a face only a mother could love (if said mother was blind), digested this news by letting loose with a very ungentlemanly fart, and then whimpered, obviously knowing that it was her ex-boyfriend’s hatred of him that had sent Ellie and Brian’s relationship into the toilet, forcing her to look for a new place to live.

She may have dumped Brian, but it was his apartment she’d been living in these past six months, and that had been really poor planning on her part.

“Don’t worry, Barnaby,” she said, patting the dog’s head affectionately. “Good dogs are much harder to find than good men. And Brian was too anal for his own good, anyway.

“I mean, what person in their right mind flosses after every meal?” As the image of yards and yards of dental floss hanging over the edge of the waste-basket emerged—floss she’d been forced to pick up and dispose of properly—YUCK!—Ellie shuddered in distaste, knowing she’d made the right choice.

It was so much better to be the dumper rather than the dumpee, for a change, she decided.

“At any rate, we are going to be much better off without Brian, Barn.”

Seeming to agree with her assessment, Barnaby licked her face, producing an inordinately large amount of drool, which Ellie wiped off with the sleeve of her Georgetown University sweatshirt—her alma mater—before going back to peruse the classifieds.

Apartments in New York City were ridiculously expensive. She was no Donald Trump, and Ellie’s job as a translator at the United Nations didn’t pay her enough to find something as elegant as where she was living now, within a stone’s throw of Central Park.

She sighed at the thought of moving. Barn loved walking in the park, rolling in the grass and romping with his canine buddies. Ellie loved strolling down Fifth Avenue and looking in the store windows at merchandise she couldn’t afford to buy.

It was important to dream, even if those dreams were occasionally dumped on.

“Thank you, Brian!”

NOT!

Brian Pomeroy’s taste ran to the expensive—Hugo Boss suits, Rolex watches, dinners at La Cirque—but he also had a substantial income as a law partner in Fields, Morgan and Pomeroy that allowed him to indulge his every whim.

And for a while, Ellie had been one of those whims.

For all his faults, which were too numerous to mention—What kind of a man didn’t like dogs?—Brian had been generous, buying her expensive jewelry, planning weekend trips to Bermuda, and taking her to the opera…which she loathed.

Apparently, her ex-boyfriend had been under the misguided impression that because Ellie was half-Italian and could speak the language fluently (in addition to speaking French and Spanish), this meant she would automatically be an opera aficionado.

Ha! She hated hearing the fat lady sing, in any language.

Ellie had met Brian at a cocktail party at the Italian embassy. He’d looked dashing, she’d been desperate, and somehow they’d hooked up.