In Search of a Love Story (Love Story Book One )

by Rachel Schurig

  When I got back to Zach, he was hurriedly trying to complete an extra set, a grimace of pain clear on his face. I pulled the curtains around his table, feeling like a private chat was in order.

  “Enough,” I said, placing my hand on his leg. “You’re not gonna do yourself, or your teammates, any favors by getting reinjured.”

  “You don’t know how frustrating this is,” he muttered. “It’s bad enough I’m missing basketball right now.”

  “I played sports,” I told him. “And I had my share of injuries. I know exactly how frustrated you are.” I adjusted the pack on his leg and leaned over so I was closer to his face. “But I also know how pissed you’d be at yourself if you screw up your recovery. So do what I tell you, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said, smiling sheepishly.

  I patted his leg and winked at him. “Now if only I could get some of my other patients to put in half your effort, I’d be able to discharge the lot of them in no time.”

  I pulled the curtains back and found myself face to face with Elliot.

  “Hey,” he said, holding up two cups of coffee. “Got your caffeine fix.”

  “God bless you,” I told him, accepting the cup gratefully. I took a sip and sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  “Elliot!” Mrs. Z called from her table. “Yoo-hoo! Elliot!”

  He gave me an expression of mock horror before turning to Mrs. Z. “Hey,” he said, a teasing tone to his voice. “You’re particularly lovely today, ZiZi. I swear, you look younger every day.”

  “Don’t encourage her,” I muttered, but Mrs. Z was laughing happily.

  “You like to tease an old woman,” she said.

  “Not at all. You really do look great.” He lowered his voice to a loud stage whisper. “But you’re going to have to stop flirting with me. You’ll make Frank jealous.”

  “Ha!” Frank said, abandoning the standing leg station to join Mrs. Z and Elliot. “Why would I be jealous of a child?”

  “Oh, he’s no child,” Mrs. Z said, looking Elliot over with a lascivious leer on her face. The tips of his ears reddened, and I laughed.

  “You asked for it,” I said. “I told you not to encourage her.”

  “Hit on someone your own age,” Frank said. “Like Emily there, she could do for a bit of flirting.”

  I gave him a warning look. “I’m quite fine, thank you.”

  “Hell you are,” Frank said. “I know you haven’t found yourself a man since that Dylan. What are you waiting for, eh?”

  “Actually,” Elliot said, a smile forming on his face, “Emily had a date just last week, didn’t you? What was that guy’s name again? Bruce, was it? Didn’t you really hit it off?”

  I flipped him the middle finger, making Frank howl with laughter.

  “That’s the spirit, dear,” Mrs. Z said. “Don’t you let him tease you.”

  “Is Bruce the guy you went out with last night?” Sarah asked from Philip’s table. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elliot’s head snap in my direction.

  “No,” I said, glaring at her. The last thing I needed was for Frank and Mrs. Z to start grilling me about my new relationship.

  “You had a date last night?” Mrs. Z said, sitting up eagerly on her table. I sighed. “Who was it? Did he take you somewhere nice? Tell us, tell us!”

  “You are a bunch of old gossips,” I told them, shaking my finger at them. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

  “Work can wait,” Mrs. Z said, waving her hand dismissively. “I want to hear about this date!”

  “Yeah,” Frank said, grinning at me. “Did you do any necking?”

  “Frank!” I cried. “Necking? Are you kidding me?”

  “We just want to hear about him,” Sarah said. “All you told me was that you had a nice night.”

  I sighed. “Fine, if I tell you about my date will you all stop with the chatter and get back to your recovery?”

  “Yes, promise!” Mrs. Z said.

  “Cross my heart,” Frank said, his face solemn.

  “Okay. His name is Greg Cook. He’s a real estate broker, and he’s very nice. We went out on Saturday and again last night. We had a great time. End of story.”

  “Hang on, hang on,” Sarah said. “You went out twice in one weekend?”

  “Yes,” I said, shrugging. “We hit it off, so we decided to see each other again.”

  “That sounds serious,” Sarah breathed. “Wow, Emily.”

  “Is he handsome?” Mrs. Z asked, her eyes shining. “Oh, I bet he’s handsome!”

  “Don’t tell me he’s one of those namby-pamby boys. One of those, whatchamacallit? You know, one of those metro-sexy boys.”

  Laughing, I turned to Elliot, sure he would share in my amusement. But Elliot wasn’t laughing—he was staring out the window, a detached expression on his face. Before I could ask him if he’d heard Frank, Sarah was grabbing my arm and pulling me over to sit on Mrs. Z’s table with her.

  “Okay, you have to tell us what he’s like. Come on! I haven’t been on a date in months! I need to live vicariously through you!”

  “Fine,” I said, laughing. “I’ll tell you about him.”

  “Oh, good,” Mrs. Z said. She closed her eyes and smiled dreamily. “It’s been far too long since I’ve been out with a younger man.”

  “Okay, so Greg is very handsome,” I told them. “He’s taller than me, and has dark hair and eyes. And he dresses very well.”

  “Mmm,” said Mrs. Z. “He sounds perfect. He’s in real estate? Does he make a lot of money?”

  “ZiZi!” Sarah said, looking shocked. “You can’t ask that!”

  “Why not?” Mrs. Z asked. “Money is important! My second husband, Alex, lost all his money on the horseracing and then expected to live off me. I ditched his good-for-nothing bottom so fast!”

  “So how ’bout it, sweetie,” Frank asked. “Is he loaded? Drive a nice car?”

  “He seems to be very successful in his business,” I said, standing up. “And that’s enough of this talk, now. I need to get back to Philip, and the rest of you need to get back to your exercise. And I’m sure Elliot needs to get back to the store.”

  “Yeah,” Elliot said, turning to go. “Everyone have a nice afternoon.”

  I watched as he walked out the door, wondering what was wrong. He had seemed a little odd the other day, before I left for lunch. I hoped he wasn’t having problems at work.

  I turned my attention back to the group at Mrs. Z’s table. “Seriously, you guys,” I told them. “Back to work.”

  Back at Philip’s table, I removed his heat pack. “Let’s get you on your side,” I said, as I rummaged through a drawer in search of a bottle of warming lotion for his massage. “Then I can work on those muscles.” When he didn’t move, I looked up from what I was doing. He was staring at me, an incredulous expression on his face.

  “What?” I asked, feeling self-conscious.

  He just shook his head. “Blind woman,” he finally muttered.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Philip just shook his head again, but finally turned onto his side, pulling up his flannel shirt a bit to expose his hip. I took that as my cue to get started. As I worked, I wondered again about Elliot’s strange mood. He usually seemed so even-keeled about everything, the type of guy you couldn’t upset if you tried. I promised myself I would talk to him tomorrow at lunch.

  From my pocket, I heard my cell phone beep. I hesitated for a moment—I had a very strict policy about not texting in front of patients. But Greg had mentioned he would be in touch today… After the second beep, my curiosity won out, and I slipped out my phone, checking it surreptitiously under the massage table. Drinks after work?

  I grinned, and went back to Philip’s massage. The day was definitely looking up.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Ash!” I wrapped my robe around myself and stuck my head into the hallway. “Ashley?”

  “Y
eah,” she called, appearing in her doorway. “What’s up?”

  “I’m ready for you to do my hair,” I said. “And will you look at my makeup. I think I did okay…”

  Ashley joined me in the bathroom, peering closely at my face. “Not bad!” she said. “You’ve been paying attention.”

  “It would just be nice to be able to get myself ready,” I muttered. “So that I don’t have to feel like a five year old every time I have a date.”

  “At this rate, you’re gonna get lots of practice.” She pushed me down onto the closed seat of the toilet. “What is this, your third date in a week?”

  “Fourth,” I said, grinning happily. I still couldn’t get over the fact that Greg had taken such an interest in me. In me! I wondered if it would ever make sense to me.

  “You really like him, don’t you?” Ashley said, looking down at me.

  “He’s so great.” I grinned even wider. “He’s so handsome and charming, Ash. And nice to me. And he’s sophisticated, you know? Not like any of the guys we know.”

  “That sounds great,” Ashley said. “Is he a good kisser?”

  I could feel my face getting warm. For the millionth time, I cursed my propensity to blush at the slightest thing. “He actually hasn’t kissed me yet.”

  “What?” Ashley stopped in the act of pulling bottles and brushes out of the cabinet to stare at me. “Three dates, and he hasn’t even kissed you?”

  “He’s kissed my cheek.” I blushed harder. “He’s such a gentleman.”

  “Wow,” she said, still staring at me. “That either means he really likes you or there’s something wrong with him.”

  I stuck out my tongue at her.

  “So where’s he taking you tonight?”

  “The casino.” I felt a little tingle of apprehension. Greg had advised me to dress up, saying that he wanted to show me some high-roller VIP room. I knew I would be out of my element. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, reminding myself there was no reason to worry.

  The nice thing about Greg, which I would never admit to anyone, was that he had a habit of taking control of any situation we were in. I assumed it was just second nature to him, what with his successful career and everything. But it was nice for me because I never felt put on the spot. All I had to do in a scary situation (whether it be a posh restaurant or a VIP lounge at the casino) was relax and follow his lead.

  “What are you wearing?” she asked.

  I pointed at the back of the door, where my dress was hanging. I had stopped at Somerset on my way home from work, and I was rather proud of myself for being able to handle it without Ryan or Ashley. Granted, I had explained the situation to a sales associate and asked her to help me, basically letting her pick out the dress in the end. But, still.

  “Nice,” Ashley said, peering at the strapless midnight blue sheath. “Your hair is going to look fantastic against that color. We should definitely leave it down.”

  She ran her fingers through my wet hair, thinking. “Let’s go straight,” she said finally. “Straight and sleek to go with the sleek dress.”

  “I wear it straight every day.” I made a face at her. “I could do that myself.”

  Ashley rolled her eyes. “You let it air dry every day then end up pulling it up into a ponytail. I had something a little more sophisticated in mind.”

  “Whatever you say,” I said, deciding to trust her. She hadn’t done me wrong yet.

  Ashley worked quickly, rubbing some kind of serum into my scalp and blowing my hair dry with a wide paddle brush. When she was done with that, she squirted something else into her hands before running them through my hair again. Finally, she plugged a hair straightener into the wall and set it on the side of the sink to get hot.

  “You’re straightening my hair?” I asked. “It’s already straight!”

  “Trust me,” she said. “This will be completely different than what you’re used to.”

  And when she had finished, I had to admit that she was right. My hair hung in a sleek curtain down my back, definitely smoother and shinier than I had ever seen it.

  “Wow,” I whispered. “How’d you do that?”

  “Next time I’ll show you how.” She looked down at her watch. “You should get dressed.”

  Ten minutes later I was ready to go. I stood in the kitchen sipping a glass of wine to soothe my nerves while I waited for Greg. It was hard to sit in the dress, and I was worried about wrinkling the silk, so I leaned against the counter.

  “Are those the shoes you’re wearing?” Ashley asked, frowning at my feet.

  “What’s wrong with these shoes?”

  “They’re a little low,” she said. “And that heel is way too clunky.”

  “And that’s bad?”

  Ashley sighed. “They’re dowdy. You look like a librarian.”

  “They’re the only other heels I own.” I was starting to feel a little panicky. I couldn’t wear the red heels Ashley and Ryan had picked out with this dress. Why on earth hadn’t I thought to get new shoes? At that moment, I heard the sound of the buzzer from downstairs. Greg was here. I looked at Ashley, sure she could see my nerves from a mile away.

  “Relax, I have a pair,” Ashley said, turning to the doorway to buzz Greg in. “They’ll be tight on you,” she called over her shoulder. “But you’ll just have to deal with it.”

  I had just managed to squeeze my feet into the way too small heels when I heard the knock on the door. “God,” I moaned. “These hurt like hell. Are you sure I can’t wear my other ones?”

  Ashley gave me a quelling look. “Fine,” I muttered. “Will you just get the door?”

  She dashed to the door, pulling it open to reveal Greg standing in the hallway. He was wearing a black suit with a black shirt, which was unbuttoned at the neck. It was the first time I had ever seen him without a tie. It was totally sexy.

  “Hi, Ashley,” Greg said politely.

  “Hello,” she said, sounding a little breathless. She clearly thought he was sexy, too, and the realization sent a little thrill of pride through me. How had I managed to get the sexy one?

  “Emily’s right here.” Ashley moved away from the door, gesturing Greg inside.

  “You ready?” he asked me without moving. “I’d come in, but we have reservations.”

  “Sure.” I picked up my purse and tried not to feel put out. I had spent half an hour after work straightening the apartment, hoping that Greg would come in for a drink. I really wanted Ashley to get to know him.

  As I stepped to the doorway, Greg held out a hand and placed it lightly on my shoulder, stopping me. “You look amazing.”

  I blushed once again, suddenly not caring about whether he came in or not. “Thank you,” I said, feeling shy. He smiled at me, and I blushed even harder. I looked over my shoulder at Ashley, who was smiling at me broadly. “Bye.”

  “Have fun!” she called out. Then Greg was shutting the door behind me and we were off.

  * * *

  After an hour or so in the high-roller room, I realized that I wasn’t feeling nervous anymore.

  Bored was more like it.

  At first I had been totally blown away by the surroundings. Greg had been met by a personal concierge, Travis, at the entrance to the casino. After Greg told him I had never been to a casino before, Travis offered to give us a tour before taking us upstairs. I felt a little hum in my veins as he led us around the floor. Something about the noise, the lights, and the happy anticipation palpable in the air made me feel excited.

  Eventually Travis led us to a private elevator to take us up to the fourth floor where the high-stakes gambling took place. “I thought we’d hang out and play some craps,” Greg said, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close to his side. I felt a rush of pleasure and smiled at him.

  “Sounds good.”

  Travis led us to a VIP room, and I had to fight to keep my jaw from dropping. It was very swanky, the type of place I would have thought you’d only find in Vega
s. Scantily dressed waitresses were plying the high rollers with drinks and food. With the low lighting and posh furnishings, the atmosphere was cool and downright sexy.

  “What minimum would you like, sir?” Travis asked.

  “I’ll start at one hundred.”

  “Very good, sir.” Travis led us to a table, where Greg was welcomed by the dealer as he sat down. I wasn’t quite sure what I was supposed to do, but Greg once again wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close, so I figured he wanted me to stand next to him.

  For the next twenty minutes I watched as Greg played craps. He tried to explain the game to me, but I felt completely lost. I was picking up on the fact that Greg, and the other players at the table, were betting huge amounts of money on each hand. Like, pay my rent for a month type of money. It made me feel a little sick, and very much out of place. But since all I had to do was stand there, I tried not to let my face show how I felt.

  “Ready to mingle a little?”

  I was caught off guard by Greg’s question, as my mind had been wandering for the last several minutes. “Sure,” I replied, trying to refocus my attention on him.

  He stood up from the table, his arm still tightly wrapped around me, and led me to the end of the room, where a bar and seating area was busy with players apparently taking a break.

  “I don’t actually play all that often,” Greg said in my ear. “My firm has club privileges up here, but I mostly use it for networking.”

  “Wow,” I said, not really sure how to respond to that. Fancy clubs and networking were so far beyond my realm, it was hard to make conversation on the subject without sounding stupid. “Do you play any other games?”

  “I like craps the best,” he said. “But sometimes I’ll play a hand or two of poker.”

  We had reached the bar now, and Greg ordered us each a glass of wine. I tried not to feel envious of the woman beside me with a bright purple cocktail. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked delicious. When Greg handed me my red, it was hard to feel grateful, but I thanked him all the same.