by Hailey North
Sami tipped her head to one side. “Of course I do. But that’s with my girlfriends. Dating is serious business when you’re looking for a husband.”
He shook his head. “We did go to two different schools of life. You’re not marrying a CV, Sweet Stuff. Did you like the guy?”
Sami felt a flush rising in her cheeks. “Well, yes, I did.”
“So what happened?”
She tried a few more swallows of the martini while considering her response. “It’s possible that I over-prepared and tried too hard to make a good impression.”
“Slayed him with your research on whatever the hell his specialty is?”
Sami nodded. “Pediatric ophthalmology. Did you know that 52%—”
Flynn placed two fingers over her lips. “Shh. Don’t even start.”
Sami took another drink. “I thought he liked me. We met at a bar Friday evening but he had to leave for an emergency call. He must have liked me or he wouldn’t have asked me out for dinner, right?” Another sip. Another.
Flynn lifted the empty glass from her hand and put it on the coffee table. “Did you leave him a few minutes to say anything or did you lecture from the appetizer through the dessert?”
“I wanted him to be impressed with me.”
Flynn put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her comfortably against his side. “You asked me for my opinion.”
“I did.”
“You could benefit from some re-programming. Which I’m available to provide.”
Sami sighed. “Why is it so easy for some women and so challenging for me?”
“Maybe you haven’t met the right man. Maybe it’s not you at all.”
“But all my friends are married,” Sami said. “Vonnie set me up with this guy who ticks off every item on my perfect match list, and what did I do but scare him off? I could see that look in his eyes. Why, now that I think of it, it’s the same expression that was on Sean’s face the night we had dinner.”
“Deer in the headlights?”
Sami nodded. She relaxed against Flynn’s side.
“What happens if you don’t lecture?”
“I don’t know what to say. Or I’m afraid I’ll say the wrong thing and sound utterly inane.”
Flynn was doing something with his fingers to the back of her neck. “What’s wrong with inane?”
“Who wants to be seen as less than intelligent?”
“Life is about more than I.Q., Sami.”
She detected an undertone in his words. “Why do you say that?”
Flynn reached for his glass on the side table and drained what remained. “According to my mother, my sperm donor of a father was quite brainy.”
“Do you have any relationship at all with him?”
Flynn shook his head. “Forget about that. What we need to do, Sami Pepper, is teach you how to relax into dating. Enjoy it without trying so hard to be perfect. Then, before you know it, you’ll have your wish come true.”
“We?”
He shrugged. “I owe you your prize from the wager, right? True Love.”
Sami leaned her head back. She felt pleasantly light, floating a bit above the sofa, but safely linked to her surroundings by Flynn’s sheltering arm. She licked her lips, tasting the chill of the drink. “I don’t know why I couldn’t be as relaxed at dinner as I am right now.”
Flynn eyed her empty martini glass, figuring the drink, though he’d gone light on the liquor, might have something to do with her current mellow state. “Where did you go?”
“Morton’s.”
He made a face. “Stuffy enough for you?”
She turned her face up. “It’s a quite proper restaurant.”
“If you say so. Any idea why he selected Morton’s? Or did you pick?”
“He did.” She sat up, annoyance on her pretty face. “I never have two drinks, but would you fix another one of those geese for me?”
“In a minute,” Flynn said. “What’s got you riled up?”
“He’s a regular at Morton’s,” Sami said. “Because he lives next door, in a condo in an art deco building.”
Flynn couldn’t see what was wrong with that. “So it’s convenient.”
“But don’t you see?” Sami pushed her hair from her face. “He wanted to take me to dinner and then pop back to his place for sex.”
Flynn pulled his arm away from Sami. “I think I’ll fix us both a drink.” He busied himself at the bar, wondering why in the hell it bothered him to think of Sami waltzing from the dinner table to some guy’s bed. “You don’t know that,” he finally said, crossing back to the sofa with their drinks.
“I could tell,” Sami said. “He had that ‘bedroom eyes’ look on his face, and he couldn’t keep from studying my breasts, even over the top of the menu.”
“So you started lecturing on pediatric ophthalmology.” Flynn sipped his drink. “To take his mind off your body and focus it solely on your brains.”
“Precisely.”
Flynn put his arm back around Sami. “What’s so wrong about wanting to go to bed with a gorgeous woman?”
“Just once,” Sami said, “I want to be wanted for me. All of me. The whole, entire person me.” She gulped at her drink.
Flynn once again removed her drink. He put both of the glasses on the coffee table. Tipping her chin up, he kissed her softly on the lips. “I want you,” he said. He trailed his fingers along her neck, to the dip in her camisole between her glorious breasts. “For you.”
She laughed, then sighed, and plucked up his fingers, returning his hand to his lap. “Thank you,” she said. “But you and I are seeking different outcomes.”
Flynn kissed the top of her head. “Right. Good reminder.” He shifted on the sofa, but kept his arm around her shoulders. “We’d best concentrate on those dating pointers. For instance, say you’re at a party and a guy is talking to you, you don’t really have to say anything.”
“No?”
“No. Just tip your head back, widen your eyes.”
“Then think of something to say?”
“Nah. Touch the tip of your tongue to your upper lip.”
She laughed. “That is so oh, junior-high-ish.”
Flynn thought of how well she’d teased him on the road from New Orleans. Sami knew how to flirt with the best of them. She just had the wrong approach to the process. “Go ahead and humor me,” he said. “Try it.”
She tipped her chin upwards, widened her gorgeous green eyes and after a long moment, let the tip of her tongue linger along the center of her upper lip.
Flynn bit back a groan of lust. “Nothing junior-high-ish about that move.” He reached for his drink, knowing he was in trouble. He refused to drink and drive, so one way or another he’d be spending the night at Sami’s. But right now he needed the rest of the second martini. He’d be better off pouring it over his crotch.
“But there’s only a fraction of time I can perform such obviously sexually-charged come-hither moves and then legitimately protest when the man wants to take me straight to the bedroom,” Sami said. “When do I get to embark on a stimulating and thought-provoking discussion?”
“When that impulse comes over you,” Flynn said, “you need a plan in place to distract you.”
“A plan?” Sami was stroking her lip with her little finger.
Flynn wondered if she realized how sexy she looked. One look at her face told him she was deep in thought and was clueless to what she was doing to him.
Or was she?
He studied her face more closely. The minx had driven him wild during the drive up, trying to get him to lose their bet. Was she playing a similar game now? He thought of how sad she’d seemed when she pulled into the driveway. Darned if he didn’t want to pull her close and kiss her till she couldn’t be sad ever again.
Sami waited for what Flynn had to say next. He seemed to be distracted by something, but she wanted to make the most of his advice. Who better than a playboy to teach her what men wanted? “W
hat course of action are you recommending?”
Flynn didn’t answer. Instead he rose from the sofa, gazed down at her and offered his hand.
Sami accepted it, rose with him and walked around the sofa to the open area near the piano.
“Suggest a dance,” he said. “No need to talk.”
“What if there is no music?” Sami was nothing if not practical.
He held out his arms. “Make your own,” he said.
Sami hesitated and then stepped into his arms. He hummed a slow tune and they began to move together. “Nice. Your technique is quite practiced.”
“Hush,” Flynn said. “Dancing is not a time for words. The music and our bodies are all that’s needed.”
“Now who’s being bossy?” Sami tipped her head back. Flynn was gazing down at her with a hungry look that made her feel a trifle nervous. And flattered.
“One more word and I’ll have to kiss you to shut you up,” he said, but his voice was tender.
Sami pressed her lips together. Dancing slowly with Flynn’s arms wrapped around her, her body snuggled against his, was playing with fire.
Fire burnt.
Fire hurt.
She stopped and wiggled out of his embrace. “Thanks for the lesson.” She smiled at him. “You’re welcome to the lavender room, or the couch.” She yawned and covered her mouth, exaggerating the motion, but only slightly. Those drinks had done their black magic on her, yet she retained enough sense to run like hell from Flynn’s touch.
Flynn screwed his mouth into a crooked smile. “Wise Dr. Pepper,” he said, sounding sad but resigned. “You’d do better kicking me out.”
She shook her head. “Not after those killer martinis.”
“Thank you,” Flynn said. “I’ll hang out on the couch.” He pulled his phone from his pants pocket. “Plenty to read.”
“Me too,” Sami said, thinking of the journal she’d yet to re-open. Perhaps it was the effects of the drink or the magic of Flynn’s touch. Or the way he seemed to listen to her and understand her, but suddenly she wanted to share with him what she’d discovered in Nathalie’s journal. “Are you sleepy?”
Flynn looked at her as if she’d asked if he was a giraffe. “Honey, the night is young. No, I’m not sleepy.”
“Me either.” She crossed her arms over her chest and fixed her gaze on his face. “I just don’t want you and me to do anything we’d regret. That’s why I ended the dance lesson in what you might consider a premature fashion.”
He nodded. “I know. That’s why I called you ‘Wise Dr. Pepper.’”
She flashed him a smile. “There’s something I’d like to share with you.”
He motioned to the sofa. “Let’s sit.”
Sami noted he kept a full cushion between them. Well, she wanted him not to touch her, so why did it feel a bit lonely with the two of them camped on opposite ends of the couch? She should be pleased that he had honored her preference. “In the two boxes I brought from my parents’, I found a journal. Nathalie’s.” She took a deep breath and tucked her feet under her. “My mother never does anything without a purpose; therefore I assumed she placed it in the box for me to find and read.”
“Whoa,” Flynn said. “What parent does that to her child? Though, of course, you’re not a child.” He added something else that sounded like, “All woman.”
Sami uncurled her feet and stood up. “I’ll be right back.” Ruby jumped up and followed her to the bedroom, where Sami retrieved the journal. Back in the living room, she resumed her seat. Still, she did not open the cover.
“Bit like Pandora’s box?” Flynn asked, leaning down to stroke the Corgi’s head as she’d settled next to his feet.
Sami nodded. “The beginning was what I expected. Notes about her residency. Pages and pages. It would be what I could imagine was at the forefront of her mind. Nathalie is brilliant and dedicated and need I add a perfectionist.”
“Exactly what she tried to lay on you,” Flynn said.
“Yes, I am definitely programmed to accept nothing less than perfection.”
Flynn stretched an arm along the back of the couch. “I wonder what you’d do if you could close your eyes and jump.”
Sami wrinkled her brow. “I’m not sure I understand your point. I pursued my chosen professional path. I continue to pursue it.”
He shrugged. “Just saying maybe you picked what you did because you had to be a doctor of some sort to please your parents. Maybe you didn’t want to be a doctor of any sort. Maybe you wanted to… oh, pick something. Become a jazz pianist.”
Without thinking, Sami glanced over at the gleaming Yamaha upright.
“Aha,” Flynn said.
“This conversation is going off-course,” Sami said. “I’m perfectly satisfied with the intellectual rigors involved in teaching and researching in my field. So let’s return to the subject of the journal.” How could he have seen her look at the piano? Sami shifted on the couch, leaning her back against the arm. One of the problems with Flynn was he had a way of seeing more than he should. More than one would expect him to. She furrowed her brow and ran her hand over the front of the journal.
“I’m guessing the journal didn’t stay focused on what was happening in the hospital?”
Sami nodded, took another deep breath, opened the book, and located the last passage she’d read. “She writes about becoming engaged to Emile. They agree not to have children, as there seems to be a concern that his father, who died young, might have died from a condition that could have been passed on to Emile.”
“Wow,” Flynn said. “Wonder what happened to change their mind?”
“Accidental pregnancies occur all the time,” Sami said. “To normal, run-of-the-mill individuals. To a man and a woman as intellectually-oriented and science-based as Emile and Nathalie, no.”
Flynn shrugged. “They’re still human.”
Sami tucked her feet under her again and leaned forward, deciding not to respond to Flynn’s comment. She was used to Emile and Nathalie and the rigidity of their world. Some of her mother’s words in the journal disturbed her in a way she didn’t know how to process. “I stopped reading when I came to the introduction of Philippe, a name I have never heard from Nathalie. Or Emile.” She flipped back a page and read aloud:
Philippe and I had coffee after evening rounds. We talked for hours. And hours. Talking. Nothing else. But I felt my heart alive in a way I have never known. Never thought possible. I must not see him again.
“And did she?” Flynn continued to stroke Ruby’s head.
“I don’t know. I do know from an earlier entry that she and Emile were already engaged.”
“Was she happy?”
Sami gazed across the room, reflecting. Slowly, she said, feeling her way around her reaction, “Satisfied. As if she had achieved a goal. But not over the top, the way she expresses herself about this mysterious Philippe.”
“You don’t have to read any more,” Flynn said.
“But I have to know. Is Emile my father?”
Flynn pursed his lips. “He’s been there for you. Doesn’t that make him your father?”
Sami reached out and brushed Flynn’s hand where it lay on the back of the sofa. “I understand why you say that, but if there’s a medical reason Emile didn’t have a child, that may mean I shouldn’t have a child.” She sounded more ferocious than she meant to. And she certainly hadn’t asked the stupid tears in her eyes to make an appearance.
“Aw, Sami, come here,” Flynn said, reaching over and pulling her against him. He cradled her face in his shoulder and stroked her hair. “Everything’s going to be okay. But you don’t have to read the book. Just pick up the phone and ask them.”
Sami lifted her face. “Just like that? Hey, how’s your new assisted living residence? And by the way, who in the world is Philippe?”
“Why not? It’s less an invasion of privacy to ask the question rather than read about it.”
“It does make me feel like a pee
ping Thomasina,” Sami said.
“Want me to read it for you?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask that of you.”
He shrugged and kept his arm around her. “No skin off my nose. Won’t upset me the way it’s likely to upset you. I can just give you the facts.”
Sami sighed. “Thank you, but no. It’s something I must do. I wouldn’t mind if you sat with me, though. Perhaps you could read something of your choice while I wade through the rest of these pages. There’s not a lot of content left. Many of the pages toward the end appear to be blank.”
“I’m good,” Flynn said. “Think of me as your pillow.” He pointed to the open journal. “It’s like jumping into the lake first thing in the summer. Best to dive in and get the shock over with.”
Sami gave him a half-smile. “Now you’re the wise one.” She settled more comfortably against him, thankful for his presence, and turned the page to the next entry.
I broke my vow last night. Philippe and I assisted at a difficult emergency surgery. Head trauma from an auto accident. After five hours, we lost the patient. I know in my rational mind that every doctor loses patients. But that night I was not thinking. I was, to my shame, letting my feelings dominate. Despite having suffered the same loss, Philippe’s actions were to offer me comfort. Consolation. Compassion. All of which fueled the passion we felt for one another. Passion I had no right to act upon.
We spent the few hours left in the night at his apartment. We moved as one. We breathed as one. I utterly forgot myself. Forgot my reason. Forgot to use contraception.
Forgot?
There are no accidents.
I went home a changed woman.
I do not know what actions I shall take next.
“Oh my goodness gracious,” Sami said, and re-read the entry, this time aloud to Flynn. “Why, oh why, didn’t she date any of these entries?”
“So you could do the math and calculate your answer?”
Sami nodded.
“Might not tell you anything,” Flynn said. “Who says they only did it once?”
Sami shook her head. “I cannot believe Nathalie would allow her passion to overcome her reason, except in the most exceptional of circumstances.”