A Different Blue(127)

the fact that Wilson had stood and was approaching me with the intention of delivering a kiss.

Alice, however, was watching with glee as Wilson leaned in and pressed his lips to mine in a

kiss that was mostly air and mostly over before I'd even had a chance to prepare.

“Oh, Cor! That was pathetic, Darcy! What are we, five?” Alice groaned loudly. “This whole

party is pathetic! I haven't seen a real kiss all night! All these pruny pecks and stickers and

the bloody brown bag game. Cor!” Alice harrumphed loudly. She sat up and pointed to a nice

looking guy most of the women had swarmed to when the Ha Ha Ha game started.

“Justin! You're not married, and you're absolutely scrummy. Go give Blue a real kiss, will you

please?” Alice was a tiny bit drunk, I suspected. The man named Justin looked at me with

interest.

“Now, Peter and I could show you how it's done, couldn't we Peter?” Alice elbowed her husband

who had fallen asleep after failing at the brown bag game. He responded with a quiet little

snore. Alice shoved him in outrage. “Cor! Puffing and snoring! What romance! Help me, Justin!”

“Help us all, Justin!” Tiffa added emphatically, nudging Justin forward. Everyone burst out

laughing, everyone but Wilson, who stood stiffly at my side, his eyes trained on the hunky

Justin who had decided to give Alice what she wanted and was heading toward me.

Wilson turned on me suddenly, and his hands cupped my face, his fingertips sliding into my hair.

With his eyes on mine, he ducked his head and brushed his lips against my mouth, once and then

again, as if afraid that Alice would start “Cor-ing” if he pulled back. His lips were firm and

smooth, and his breath tickled my lips. My heart pounded in my throat and my mind screamed at

me, demanding I catalog every detail of the event I had dreamed about but never dared hope for.

Wilson was kissing me!!

And then I couldn't think at all. His lips were more insistent, his hands pulling me forward and

into him as his mouth moved against mine, and then into mine, opening my lips gently, his tongue

seeking entrance. And I let him in. And then his arms were wrapped around me, and the kiss

became something else. It wasn't a game, it wasn't a show, it was ours, and the room around us

did not exist.

We parted on a shared sigh. The room erupted in whoops and clapping as Alice jumped up and down

and giggled like a little girl about to sit on Santa's lap.

“That was lovely! Darcy! If you weren't my wee little brother I'd stand on line! Peter! Wake

up, man!” Alice turned on her tired spouse who had missed the entire spectacle.

Tiffa was staring at us with a small smile on her lips, as if she'd known it all along. Wilson's

hand slid down my arm and captured my fingers in a clasp. His ears were red, but he didn't

speak. He held my hand for the rest of the evening, and I swore my heart had swollen in size. I

was breathless and thrilled and anxious to be alone, anxious to explore this new development.

As midnight neared, Tiffa turned on the television and passed around noisemakers and confetti.

Apparently, another British tradition was watching Big Ben strike twelve, which Tiffa had tiVo-

ed when it had actually occurred in London so that everyone would feel like they were right at

home . . . in England. I didn't mind giving up Times Square for Big Ben. Or giving up American