Free Married While Intoxicated by Fran Shaff

MARRIED WHILE INTOXICATED
     
    By Fran Shaff
     
    Classic Contemporary Romantic Comedy
     
     
     
    Married While Intoxicated by Fran Shaff
     
    All rights reserved
     
    Smashwords Edition
     
    Coypright 2011 by Fran Shaff
     
    Characters, names and incidents used in this
story are products of the imagination of the author and are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
     
    No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and
retrieval system without permission in writing from the author.
     
    January, 2011
     
    Discover Fran Shaff books and short stories
available in e-format, paperback and hardcover by visiting her
website at: http://sites.google.com/site/fshaff
     
    E-mail Fran Shaff at:
[email protected]
     
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    MARRIED WHILE INTOXICATED
     
    Melinda tried to open her eyes, but it felt
like they’d been glued shut. A heavy object was crushing her chest,
and a hundred-pound weight clamped down on her lower body.
    A wool sock had somehow covered her
tongue.
    Maybe waking up wasn’t such a good idea, she
decided when regaining consciousness made her feel more miserable
than she had in a long time.
    She struggled against the restrictions on her
body until she was able to dislodge the object lying on her chest.
As her torso became free, the glue in her eyes miraculously
dissolved.
    She opened her eyes and looked straight
ahead. Clusters of lilacs against a white background stared back at
her. They were beautiful, almost fragrant, but they were totally
unfamiliar to her.
    This was not her room.
    Where was she?
    She ran her fingers through her hair, rubbed
her sticky eyes and tried to moisten the wool sock on her
tongue.
    Then she saw him.
    His heavy leg, covered by thick denim jeans,
lay across her legs, weighing them down heavily.
    Suddenly realizing she was in bed with a man
she didn’t know, Melinda screamed. She grabbed her aching head when
the piercing sound met her ears, and she screamed again.
    The man in her bed twisted away from her,
pulling his heavy leg from her lower body. He covered his ears with
his hands. “Stop screaming!” he shouted.
    Melinda responded to his command by screaming
again.
    He sat up next to her and placed his hand
over her mouth. “Stop screaming! In the name of all that is holy,
please, stop screaming. My head will explode if you don’t.”
    She pushed his hand away from her mouth.
“Don’t do that.”
    “Don’t do what?”
    “Don’t put your hand over my mouth.”
    “You gave me no choice. You wouldn’t stop
screaming, and my head feels like Quasimodo is inside using a
sledge hammer on his bells.”
    “Never mind the haunting hunchback in your
head or his clanging bells. What are you doing in my bed?”
    “Your bed?” he asked, raising a brow.
    She rubbed her temples. No, this wasn’t her
bead, wasn’t her room.
    She looked around the attractive boudoir with
the quaint lilacs on the walls and tried to remember where she was
and how she got there. Was she in a hotel? A bed and breakfast?
    She looked at him again.
    Dear heaven, what had she done?
    Maybe he could explain what had
happened , she thought.
    But he didn’t look anymore clear-headed than
she felt.
    “Where are we, and how did we end up in bed
together?” She decided a direct approach might just