“You’ll do the surgeries?” I asked discreetly from the side of my mouth.
My eyes stayed on Michael. I could tell by the lean in his stance that he was about to walk over and investigate.
“No.”
His abrupt answer warranted a double take from me. My eyes left Michael’s, and I was once again staring into the hot, amber hues that seemed to burn my skin and confuse me. I didn’t understand my reaction to the man across from me. There had been only Michael. I wasn’t used to my responses to someone else.
“I don’t understand.”
As he leaned in closer to me, his warm breath struck the side of my cheek and the smell of the alcohol on his breath made me feel drunk. “My office. Monday,” he said.
Before I could respond, he spun on his heel and strutted across the room, every woman with eyes following his frame the way I was, and then he was gone. I watched through the tinted glass of the front doors as he handed a ticket to the parking attendant and waited.
“What the fuck was that about?”
Michael’s voice cut into the side of my face. Quickly, I turned my head towards him and blushed. I had no idea what to say. I didn’t want to tell him the truth and embarrass myself further, but I wasn’t one to lie. Actually, I was terrible at it.
“Nothing.” The word slipped from my mouth, and I knew it wasn’t going to be a good enough answer.
“Nothing? Come on, Sam, you can do better than that. Was he hitting on you?” He laughed with his question, as if a man like Roman Blake would never waste his time on a woman like me.
My body stiffened, and I looked down at the plain tablecloth. “Of course not, Michael.”
He placed a warm hand on the back of my neck, his touch reaching through my body to my toes. Leaning in close, he placed a soft kiss on my cheek, and I melted.
So long.
It had been so long since Michael had given me even the smallest amount of affection. I covered my heated skin where his kiss still lingered with my palm, as if to hold the sensation in. And then he ruined it when he opened his mouth hot against my ear.
“I was joking. Of course he wasn’t hitting on you.”
It was like a slap to the face. My head popped up to see a few ladies staring at Michael and me, letting me know the soft kiss had been for show.
A cold chill moved over me when Michael stepped away and left me alone for the rest of the night. I wanted so badly to leave and go home, but the house I lived in didn’t even feel like home to me. Honestly, it never did. It had always been too big—too cold.
Home was where my father was, and he was gone. Home was a place full of love and laughter—a place I felt wanted, and I knew as I watched Michael flirt with a redhead from across the room, that I’d never feel like I was home again.
That night I slept in the guest room again. I didn’t even think about whether or not Michael would collect me to come to bed. He didn’t, of course, and I fell asleep with tears on my pillow and a growing ache in my heart. Monday could not come fast enough.
On Monday morning, as I drank my latte alone at Starbucks, I worked up the nerve to see Roman. I was intrigued, yet I was still insanely embarrassed. A part of me even considered that maybe he was calling me to his office for an affair.
Bouncing the idea around in my mind, I repeatedly wondered whether I’d go through with it if he offered until my cup was dry. I walked out of Starbucks certain that I’d sleep with Roman Blake if it were what he was offering. I deserved it. I’d been with Michael since I was young. He was the only man I’d ever been with and for the last two years, I’d longed for the touch of a man.
Not to mention, Michael was running around sleeping with anything that would open their legs for him. It wasn’t like he would care anyway. Maybe I was going about this all wrong. I didn’t have any friends to tell me the way of things in the circles that we lived in, but maybe married couples were supposed to sleep with other people. Maybe I was missing out on something great because I was too worried about making Michael love me again.
An hour later, I found myself following behind the pretty nurse I’d met my very first visit as she led me down an entirely different hallway. We stopped at a mahogany door—the name Dr. Roman Blake embossed deep in the shiny nameplate on the door. The nurse twisted the polished handle and with it, my stomach.
She pushed the door open, and I let go of the breath I’d been holding when I realized the room was empty.
“Dr. Blake will be right with you,” she said, motioning for me to go ahead without her. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Biting my lip, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, I took two steps inside the room. I heard the nurse shift behind me, realizing she was shutting the door.
“Thank you,” I managed to call out before she closed the door completely.
Flinching at the sound of the click, I tried to breathe normally, hoping to calm my racing heart. I was afraid to move, even the tiniest bit, so making myself comfortable in one of the big, leather chairs in front of the massive wood desk was out of the question.
Standing in the middle of the room, I clutched my handbag with both hands against my stomach and slowly turned my head to look around. Pictures of Dr. Roman, and what I assumed were his family, filled empty spaces on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined one side of his office.
A couch, two chairs, and a coffee table filled the space in front of the shelves, while his massive desk, filing cabinets, and a multitude of academic degrees littered the other half. Three large windows opened the otherwise dark room with natural light and a breathtaking view of downtown Miami.
Buildings, tall and wide, stood in the heated city, shading those who walked the sidewalks beneath them. Palm trees shadowed against the orange sky in the distance was their backdrop. I could feel the heat of the outdoors breaking through the window and basking my cool skin.
The pull of the city and all its activity called to me. I found myself pressed against a warm window, looking down at the hustle and bustle. People spilled out of shops and restaurants as the mad dash for a quick bite or a little shopping took hold of the lunch rush.
I spotted Mama Maria’s, one of Michael’s and my favorite little restaurants, and smiled. We’d gone there almost every day for a year when we first moved to the city. I’d fallen in love with everything about the place and couldn’t get enough.
Sometimes, he’d surprise me at night with takeout, even if we’d eaten it for lunch. If he had ever gotten tired of the place, he never showed it, nor did he complain when I suggested it time after time.
I couldn’t remember the last time Michael surprised me with their takeout… or anything for that matter. We were married, living together, and until recently, sleeping in the same bed. But I might as well be invisible for all that Michael noticed me anymore.
I was about to turn away, my trip into memory lane hurting too much, when I saw a young couple emerge from Mama Maria’s. They looked no younger than Michael and I had. A long, tan arm wrapped around the girl’s slender shoulders as they came to a stop right outside.
She had something in her hands, and it only took me half a second to realize what she had. Mama Maria’s was famous for her hollowed chocolate balls. They literally melted the second they touched your tongue, filling your mouth with a dark, rich chocolate. That wasn’t what they were famous for, though.
Before you ate them, you cracked them open. Inside each one was a note. It wasn’t like a fortune cookie. These notes were special, personal. They gave you hope and made you smile.
I watched as the girl read hers, smiling as big as I had when I’d read each and every one of mine. She looked up at the boy, and he kissed the tip of her nose before nuzzling the high curve of her cheekbone. I blinked back tears that not only stung my eyes, but my heart as well. Jealousy made me sick with green, but not in a hateful way. I was happy for them, but sad for myself.
I chuckled softly, wiping at my tears, and watched as he spun
her in his arms. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he kissed her hard and passionately before dipping her over his arm. She laughed uncontrollably, her head dropping back and her long, dark hair cascading down toward the sidewalk.
When he pulled her up, he whispered something into her neck that made her smile sweetly and then run her fingers through his hair. I was so tempted to run downstairs and demand to know what her note said, but I’d probably be arrested or break my leg in my haste.
They started to walk away, and I made a small sound of disappointment. Their life was so much better than my own—their passion evident. I didn’t have that. But watching them for that little bit, I’d lived vicariously through them. I didn’t want them to go. Putting my hand on the window, I lifted up onto my tiptoes and tried to follow the retreating couple.
Lost in their public display of affection, I felt the cool, but painful smack of glass against my forehead. I brought my hand up to rub my forehead.
“Are you okay?” a whispered voice asked from behind me.
Startled, I spun around to find Dr. Roman standing there with an amused look on his face.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked as my fingers still tried to rub away the slight sting.
“I was about to ask you the same question, Mrs. Aldridge.”
“Not long,” I lied, moving away from the window.
His eyebrows pulled. “What were you looking at?” He came to stand next to me, looking out of the window. I knew the couple was long gone by now. “You were so transfixed that you didn’t even hear me come in.”
“I was just watching. Sometimes, the most ordinary-looking people can be completely fascinating. Especially when they don’t realize someone is watching them.”
“You’re definitely right about that.” His tone caught my attention, and I looked up to find him staring at me. Several seconds passed before he blinked and looked away. “Do you people watch a lot?”
“Sometimes. Their lives are far more interesting than mine.”
“Things don’t always seem as they appear.”
“No, they don’t, but I can make them into anything I want. In my own little world, no one is ever unhappy or sad.”
I was looking at his profile, watching the way his jaw moved and the muscles in his neck stretched when he swallowed. He turned to look at me again, and my eyes found his.
“I’m glad you decided to come, Mrs. Aldridge.”
His formality ruffled my nerves, and I was already nervous enough. I wanted the cool and collected man from the party to come back.
“Samantha,” I reminded him and turned to face him. “Honestly?”
He nodded and smiled. “Preferably.”
Returning it, I cleared my throat. “I almost didn’t.
His head tilted slightly to the side. “Why?”
I shrugged but pushed the boundaries of my honesty. “I wasn’t really sure what to expect when I walked through the doors.”
His expression shifted, saying he didn’t find that to be quite true. “But you came anyway?
I flushed, heat filling my cheeks. “Yes.” It was almost a whisper. I knew what he was going to ask next. It was more out of curiosity than bravery that I blurted it out. “I thought you might… that you were going to suggest us… having an affair.”
Something about Roman Blake made me feel like I could tell him everything and never have to worry about his reaction. Because silently, I had just told him two things: I was attracted to him, since last night I’d spent a great deal thinking about him, and I was currently entertaining the idea that he was equally or somewhat attracted to me.
But he had no reaction to what I’d just told him. Not one that I could figure out anyway. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his white coat, he took a meaningful step toward me. When he closed the distance between us, we were nearly touching. Nearly, but not quite.
“When the thought passed, did you decide what you would do?”
“I don’t think I could be like Michael… but I want to be happy at the same time. It’s all very confusing.”
“Do you think having an affair with me would make you happy, Samantha?”
The sound of his smooth voice saying my name caused goose bumps to cover my skin.
“I don’t know. We don’t really know each other. Well, I mean I know all about you…” I was rambling uncontrollably and before I could stop myself, the words were out. When our eyes met, humor was the only thing I could see there. “Got to love Google.” I laughed and twisted my fingers together. “The ironic thing is that I know more about a perfect stranger than I do myself. I don’t know what makes me happy anymore.”
“You know your facts about me; you don’t know me, Samantha.”
My face burned hotly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“That didn’t come out the right way.” He smiled gently. “What I mean is, those facts you know about me, they only make up a small part of me. There is more to my story than what you can find on the Internet. And, you may not know you, but I’m fairly certain sleeping with me probably wouldn’t make you happy. At least, not afterwards anyway. You’d feel crappy about what we’d just did, probably about me, but most definitely about yourself.”
Turning suddenly, he walked behind his desk and sat down. “I couldn’t live with that, and I wouldn’t want you to have to either,” he finished while moving a stack of papers off his desk and folding his arms on the smooth top.
He nodded his head toward the two chairs opposite him and waited for me to take seat. Setting my purse down, I tried not to moan as the expensive leather caressed my ass and the pressure of wearing heels all day was released from my calves and feet.
My movements were slow and drawn out as I wondered who was going to break the silence first. His words were still spinning inside my head as I took precious time making myself as comfortable as I could in the chair.
He was right though. While it was devious to think about sleeping with someone besides my husband, I didn’t think I had the courage to go through with it unless I fell in love with another. But I knew in my gut that I still loved Michael.
As much as I wanted him to just come right out and say it so I didn’t have to ask, I couldn’t be left in suspense any longer. “Last night, you said you changed your mind. Does that mean you’ll do the surgeries?”
“It means I want to help you.”
I frowned. “If you’re not going to do the surgeries, how are you going to help me?”
“I wasn’t lying when I said I make for a very bad therapist, but I really do know women. I’ve seen a lot of perfectly attractive woman go through the doors of my mate, Stein. Unless there is something medically preventing a surgeon from doing a procedure, they will never turn away a patient. The number-one cause for a woman to turn to cosmetic surgery is insecurity. It’s sad, but a fact for any plastic surgery.
“Those women, including yourself, just need to be taught and, more importantly, shown that you are each rare and beautiful in your own way. I learned that the hard way and vowed never to touch another woman with a scalpel unless she absolutely needed it.”
His words sparked a flame of curiosity inside of me that quickly became an out-of-control need to know what lesson he was referring to and why it had him disowning his initial practice.
“So you want to help me regain my confidence?” As sweet as that sounded, I wasn’t really sure how that was going to work.
“Yes. You need to be reminded that you’re very much a woman and deserve to be treated as such.”
I shifted nervously in my seat. “Teach me how?”
His smile was teasing and knowing. “Despite what you may have thought of my intentions, I don’t plan to offer you an affair. Now or later.”
That should have calmed my racing heart, but I couldn’t ignore the tiny bit of disappointment. I tried to tell myself it was because I felt rejected, but I knew it was a little more than that. “Okay, so how do you plan to te
ach me?”
“I want you to spend the next month with me.”
WATCHING THE SURPRISE brighten her big, brown eyes made my long day seem a little less dreary. Why her husband didn’t do everything in his power to bring her soul to life instead of destroying it was beyond my understanding.
“Are you quite alright?” I asked when two full minutes went by without either of us saying anything.
She blinked rapidly and lowered her head. I realized then that she was laughing.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but that sounded a lot like an indecent proposal. I was waiting for you to offer me a million dollars if I agreed.”
“If that’s what it takes.”
That wiped all humor from her expression. “You’re kidding, right?”
“About you spending a month with me, no. The other part, yes.”
I hadn’t been, but if it made her feel better, I would go along with it.
Again, she shifted nervously, something she’d done a lot since she sat down. I wasn’t sure if she realized that she was doing it, but I found it amusing.
“Are you asking me to stay with you for a month?”
I laughed, and she turned a shade of pink. “I assure you I’m not asking you to live with me, but we would be spending a lot of time together. Is that something you’d be comfortable with?”
She seemed to be having an inner battle before her face cleared and her final decision clouded her dark eyes. I realized I’d been holding my breath in anticipation. I hadn’t wanted to admit how much I was hoping she’d say yes.
“Yes,” she said, looking up.
Our eyes clashed. “Yes?”
She nodded firmly. “Yes. What have I got to lose, right? You’ve already turned me down for the surgery.” She ended her sentence with a smirk, trying to make light of the other morning.
Leaning over my desk, I held eye contact with her. “I’ll make you a deal. You spend the time with me and if after the month you don’t feel any differently about your choice to have the surgery,” I took a deep breath, praying in the confidence I held that I could change her mind, “then I’ll do it.”
The Procedure Page 4