Night of the Cotillion

Amanda fought hard to prove her love.  “I forgot, Amanda—“ Jarod’s dark eyes mocked her as he spoke”-you’re wrapped up in those romantic notions about husbands and wives and the happily-ever-afters.”  But Amanda kept her secret fear — that someday all this happiness must end — firmly pushed to the back of her mind.  She was determined that the days, weeks or months spent with Jarod would be heaven.  Because she knew that living without him would be agony.

“Don’t you care about me at all?”  Jarod’s laugh was harsh.  “I Want you Amanda,” he replied.  “I want you the same way I’ve wanted dozens of women.”  His brutal honesty stunned her.  “You don’t feel any difference with me?“  She raised pain—filled eyes to his face.  “What difference could there be?”  Jarod mocked.  “Love”  “You’re a sentimental fool,” he jeered.  “Love is just another word for lust.  When the physical attraction wears off, you’ll find you don’t love me, either.”  “My love for you isn’t a dream that will fade in the morning,” Amanda spoke softly, but surely.  “I thought I had no pride where you’re concerned, Jarod.  But if all you feel for me is desire, I never want to see you again.”