Seducing Sam

by Verdenius, Angela

  “Rather not.”

  “They’re hot bones.”

  “Maybe, but not my type.”

  “So what is your type of bones?” Max demanded. “Tell me, please, because you have all these hot sheilas wanting a piece of you, and none seem to satisfy you.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you a virgin?”

  “What? No.”

  “Because, seriously, I can help in that department.”

  “Max, no offence, but even if I was a virgin, you’re not my type, either.”

  “Are you into men?”

  “I’m not even going to reply to that.”

  “My cousin’s gay. I can hook you up with him. He likes the surfy look.”

  “I have nothing against gay men, but they’re not my type, either.”

  “So if women aren’t your type, and men aren’t your type…” Max crossed his eyes.

  Balling the paper towel in one hand, Sam tossed it into the bin. “I like women, I just haven’t met any that float my boat.”

  “I’m relieved.” Max took another sip of coffee. “So tell me your type.”

  “I don’t know that I have a type.”

  “C’mon man, everyone has a type. Whether they end up with that type, well, I’m married for the fourth time, so let’s not go there.”

  “I don’t know. It sounds more interesting.” Sam started restocking the cupboards with dressing packs while he had the chance. Any second and the ER could erupt once more into businesses.

  “I don’t know any man who wouldn’t give up his own mother for a chance to jump into a hot redhead’s undies.”

  “And this is why you’re married for the fourth time.”

  “Come on,” Max urged. “Tell me. What floats your boat? Gets your pecker up?” He stopped. “You can get your pecker up, right?” ‘Cause I was only joking about the STDs…”

  “Max, my pecker is fine and none of your business.” Sam poked the last dressing pack into the box. “Isn’t your break time up yet?”

  “Five more minutes. Time enough for you to tell me your type. Hot redhead? Cool blonde? Busty brunette? What?” Max trailed along behind him. “I’m not going to give up, so you might as well tell me.”

  “You’re worse than an old man.”

  “Tell me. Or I’ll introduce my cousin to you.”

  “Introduce your cousin to me, I don’t care. I’m sure he’s a nice bloke. But he won’t float my boat.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Fine.” Exasperatedly amused, Sam glanced around and pointed to an elderly woman sitting beside the stretcher her husband was lying on. “Her.”

  “The old geezer?”

  “Yes.”

  Max stared at Sam as though he had two heads. “You’re into old women?”

  “No, you jerk. I’m into a woman who will sit by my bedside when I’m sick. I want a woman who will walk though life beside me, knowing me, who cares about who I am.” Picking up a cleaning solution, Sam proceeded to wipe the BP cuff above an empty stretcher. “I want a woman who doesn’t care how I look, who knows me. Who’ll still love me when I’m old and wrinkled and grey. I want a woman who will laugh with me, cry with me, admire my garden and, oh yes, she has to love SJ.” He grinned. “’Cause SJ and I come as a package.”

  “I don’t believe I’m hearing this,” said Max.

  “You asked.”

  “Are you a girl in a bloke’s body? Because what I’m hearing is a woman’s idea.”

  “I’m not the only bloke who wants a true…” Sam winked. “Love for life.”

  “Shit, you are a woman in a bloke’s body.” Max threw the empty paper cup in the bin. “I had no idea.”

  “That it’s you, sweetie, who floats my boat?” Sam made kissy sounds. “My secret is out.”

  “Gah. My iced coffee is coming back up.”

  “Come behind the curtain and I’ll show you what else is coming up.”

  “Not friggin’ likely.”

  Sam laughed.

  Max scratched the back of his neck. “Seriously, Sam? You’re really looking for someone for your old age?”

  Stopping at the sink, Sam washed his hands and eyed his friend in the mirror. “Mate, you just don’t get it. It’s not a companion for old age, it’s a companion for now and later. For all the years between now and then.”

  “No hot redhead.”

  “The colour of her hair doesn’t matter.”

  “Va-va-voom figure?” Max asked almost desperately.

  “Depends on your definition of va-va-voom.”

  Max made an hourglass motion with his hands, the top part a whole lot bigger than the bottom.

  “My definition of va-va-voom is one where my tongue falls out of my head,” Sam explained. “Whether she’s skinny, curvy, or generously rounded, I know that when I meet the right woman, her figure will make my tongue fall out regardless.”

  “That is sick. Man, I am so disappointed in you. You are a disgrace to the male population.”

  “Is this your definition of a va-va-voom figure?” Sam repeated Max’s gesture.

  “Abso-bloody-lutely.”

  “Nothing more, nothing less?”

  “You got it. A man has needs. Mine is a wow figure.”

  “You won’t settle for anything less in your woman?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.” Max nodded.

  “So why did you ask me where to buy sexy bras for your wife who is a – what did you say? Flat as a board?”

  “Oh look.” Max glanced at his watch. “Break time is over. See ya later.” And he walked out of the ER.

  Grinning, Sam glanced around the room to check if everything was in place.

  The curtain of the cubicle next to him whipped open and Hilary, the pert little brunette CN, cooed at him. “Why, Sam, I’ve been looking for a man who’ll be with me all the years of my life, too!”

  “Oh, look,” said Sam. “Break time.” Quickly, he strode from the room, passing the bemused doctor who was holding a clip board. “Back in fifteen minutes, Harry.”

  Talk about close calls, he figured he’d been lucky to get away without Hilary latching onto his back.

  Unfortunately, word had apparently gotten around of his discussion with Max, and when it was knock-off time and he went to his locker to get his keys and wallet, it was to find a red rose stuck through the locker handle.

  Wonderful. The thing was, he didn’t know if it was a joke by Louis or Max, or, what was really unsettling, stuck there by Hilary, the CN, or Jean, the clerk who sat in her own room off to the side of the ER. Both women had been giving him the eyeball for the remainder of the shift.

  Man, sometimes he felt like a piece of meat.

  Feeling the need for fresh air, he grabbed the bag containing his bathers. A swim at the beach before going home was just the thing to clear his head.

  Evening was setting in and Sam sighed in pleasure. He now had two days off work to look forward to, two glorious days. The sun was low in the sky, the birds still chirping in the garden, SJ was sprawled out at his feet, and Sam, well, Sam was sprawled out on the veranda steps. Bum on one step, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, an iced coffee in one hand and his book in the other. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find his glasses. He’d placed them down for a minute before he plopped down on the steps, he knew that, so they couldn’t be far. But he was way too comfortable to get up and find them. Soft country music came from the radio on the veranda.

  “This,” he told SJ, “is the life. You and me, buddy, you and me.”

  His gaze wandered around his front yard before drifting across the street to where Carly’s little blue Honda was parked. He wondered what she was doing. He’d discovered that she worked for the Golden Chain Nursing Association when he’d watched her get out of her Honda and walk inside her house. He recognised her uniform - pale blue polo shirt with gold embroidery in a circle on the back and a smaller one over the breast pocket, and navy blue culottes. On her feet she wore black Mary Janes,
which was cute. Especially on her.

  For a large woman, she had nice legs. Sturdy but shapely. Figure like an overblown hourglass. A man could hang onto that woman while making love to her. Sam just bet she could take some rough lovin’. He wouldn’t have to be so careful, afraid of hurting her with his bigger frame.

  When the door shut behind her, he sighed and tipped back his head, letting the last of the sun’s rays warm his face. It’d been awhile since he’d last made love to a woman. Sex wasn’t something he indulged in with every woman who crossed his path, unlike his youth. As a highly-hormone-charged teenager and a young man in university, he’d bedded his share of women and learned some pretty interesting things along the way. But since he started working as a nurse, and had seen and experienced more of life, sex for the sake of it lost its appeal. The only women he’d had sex with since had been a couple of girlfriends, but even then, something had been missing.

  Thinking back over it now, Sam knew exactly what was missing. It was the same thing he saw in Alan’s eyes whenever he spoke about his wife, the expression even his vet and friend, Tim Clarke, had whenever his wife’s name was brought up. Even Mike, Alan’s stoic, big, menacing cop partner, had a soft glimmer in his eyes whenever his beloved Maddie’s name was mentioned.

  It was that thing that softened their eyes, brought out their protective instincts, made them talk with a certain something in their voices that spoke of contentment, and he’d seen Alan – roguish Alan, chick-mad Alan – go to jelly on the spot as soon as Sophie, Sam’s cousin, walked through the door.

  Or, to be truthful, it made Alan sit up and beg like a dog for a bone. He might be all smart mouth and sexual innuendo, but Sophie could make the man weak at the knees just by looking at him. One word and he was by her side. Hell, she didn’t even have to speak and Alan was by her side.

  His friend had never been a happier man in his life. Since Sophie, he’d never looked at another woman again except as a friend or a member of the public needing a cop’s service.

  Yeah, they all had something that Sam hadn’t found with any of his girlfriends, and as far as he was concerned, if he couldn’t find it, he didn’t want casual flings. He was over it.

  Not that he didn’t have needs. Hell, he had a lot of needs since Carly had arrived in the neighbourhood. He was pretty sure he’d be having some hot dreams tonight about Carly in her uniform and Mary Jane shoes. Call him a pervert, but those Mary Janes just did it for him.

  “I’m a pervert,” he informed SJ.

  SJ purred and thumped his tail lazily on the lawn.

  “However, to be fair, I’m only a pervert when it comes to her and the Mary Janes.”

  SJ yawned.

  “Yeah, I thought you’d care.”

  Closing his eyes again, he tipped his head back, leaning his elbows on the veranda step above him and breathing deep of the warm air. He wondered what Carly was doing tonight. Probably having a nice shower, the water running down that lush, curvy body, over those magnificent big breasts and hips, running over that generously rounded derriere…

  Talk about giving himself the beginnings of a boner in a most inappropriate place.

  SJ spat and growled.

  Opening his eyes, Sam saw Ed enter his property by way of simply leaping over the fence. Crusher stopped at the gate, disappointed, until he took one look at SJ stalking down the garden path towards him, and then he took off home, bounding across the quiet road and up the garden path into Ed’s house, howling like a banshee.

  Not in the least perturbed by his dog’s less-than-tough antics, Ed stood in front of Sam, fingers hooked in his clean, but oil-stained, jeans. “Hey, Sam.”

  “Ed.”

  “Got plans for tonight?”

  “Nope.” Languidly, Sam waggled the book in his hand. “This is it.”

  “Boring.” Ed grinned widely. “However, I have something more exciting to offer you.”

  Uh-oh. Sam wasn’t entirely sure he would like what Ed had to offer. Motorbikes weren’t his forte. Surfboards, yes, motorbikes, no.

  “Me and some friends are having a friendly game of poker tonight. You can join us if you want.”

  Poker. Gambling wasn’t his forte, either. He’d never gotten to really like it, unless it was a friendly match between him and some friends. But playing poker with a bunch of bikies…

  Almost as though Ed could read his thoughts, the skinny bloke added, “No big stakes. No knives, no guns, no drugs. A little booze, but no drunks. Can’t do it. Got Carly and Lisa there.”

  “Carly?” Okay, that had Sam’s ears perking up like a happy hound’s. “She plays poker?”

  “Yeah. Let me give you a tip.” Ed winked. “She’s a crap player.”

  “Huh.”

  “Lisa, on the other hand, she’s a killer at cards. But don’t worry, she probably won’t play well tonight. She had to be dragged away from the kids. The twins are staying with their Gran for a few hours. So no kids.” Ed beamed. “What do you say?”

  “Well…” Even though the thought of Carly was enough to make him feel a little warm inside, playing poker with a bunch of people he didn’t know didn’t really appeal to him.

  Ed sighed. “It’s okay, man. I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. People see me with these tatts and the motorbike, and they get the wrong idea.” He glanced over at the fence separating Debbie’s house from Sam’s. “I was hoping this would be a fresh start for me and Carly, you know? But I guess some of the neighbours have already made up their minds.” Turning away, he added, “Anyway, thanks for everything Sam. No hard feelings, hey?”

  Amused, Sam said, “Hey, Ed?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t try that guilt trip shit with me.”

  Ed didn’t even try to deny it. “That obvious?”

  “Yep.”

  “Carly warned me not to try it.”

  “She did?”

  “Said you wouldn’t be the kind of bloke to fall for it.”

  Wow, how had she known that? Sam straightened. “She said that?”

  “Yeah. She’s a pretty good judge of character. Well, except for – you know.”

  Sam didn’t know, but he really wanted to. He was just too polite to pry. Damn it.

  “Carly said to just ask you straight out, then leave you alone when you knocked back our offer.”

  Sam’s eyebrows rose. “She said that?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  Unable to help but like Ed’s honesty, Sam was nevertheless curious. “So Carly wants me to come?”

  Ed gave him a funny look. “Sure.”

  Hmmm. Sam looked over at Ed’s house. “Poker.”

  “No high stakes. No guns, no drugs.”

  Sam had no doubt there’d be no drugs, Carly didn’t seem the type, nor did Ed. All of a sudden he wondered when he’d become so judgemental. Cripes, Ed was just a bloke with tatts who owned a motorbike shop. There’d been no roaring bikes, no wild parties. It was just a friendly poker game to which he’d been invited. It was a nice gesture of Ed’s.

  And Carly was going to be there.

  That last part made up his mind. “Sure, I’ll come.”

  “Great. Seven o’clock. Can’t be a late finish, Huggie promised his mother that he’d be back to pick up the kids before eleven o’clock.” Ed took off down the garden path and leaped over the gate, startling SJ, who hissed at him.

  Sam checked his watch, frowned, peered closer then pulled his arm back. Right. Glasses. Where were they?

  Pushing to his feet, he stretched and started looking. He found them by the garden tap where he’d removed them to wipe a speck of water off. Now he remembered that he’d seen Carly’s little car pull into her driveway and had watched her get out, wearing that uniform and those cute Mary Jane shoes.

  Putting them on, he checked his watch. Six thirty. He better tidy himself up.

  By six fifty five he was pulling on the old bell at Ed’s door while a van pul
led into the driveway. Out of the driver’s seat jumped the big, muscle-bound, bald bikie he’d seen the first time Ed and Carly had arrived. Out of the passenger side hopped a diminutive little woman with an Asian heritage.

  Amused, Sam eyed the couple. The little woman as talking to the big bikie, who was muttering ‘Yes dear’, ‘No dear’, ‘Yes dear’, and rolling his eyes when he spotted Sam.

  The door opened and Ed looked out. “Hey, Sam. Lisa! Huggie! This is Sam, my neighbour from across the street.”

  By this time the big bikie, Huggie, had climbed the steps, Lisa’s hand in his massive paw. It looked weird, especially as Lisa was dressed like a sophisticated socialite, all high heels, make-up, and hair up in an elegant bun. He’d expected a bikie chick with tatts to equal Ed’s. Lisa looked like she was ready for a charity-fundraiser, not a poker night.

  “Hey.” Huggie nodded.

  “Hi,” Sam replied.

  “Hello, Sam.” Lisa dimpled at him. “Ed talk you into a night of debauchery?”

  Those words from such sweet lips. Unbelievable. “I hope not. I’m a quiet kind of bloke.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll fix that. Carly!” Lisa swept past them all into the house. “I brought chips!”

  “Come in.” Ed stood aside.

  Standing at Ed’s feet, Crusher peered nervously past them towards the gate.

  “Is he all right?” Sam asked.

  “He’s a little shaken still.” Ed looked down at the dog. “For God’s sake, Crusher, don’t embarrass me.”

  “What happened?” Huggie picked up the tiny dog, cradling him against his chest.

  “He had a run-in with SJ, Sam’s cat.”

  At Huggie’s dubious expression, Sam said hurriedly, “Don’t worry, SJ won’t come looking for him.” And then he caught sight of two gold eyes staring at him from behind the picket fence. Or staring at Crusher in Huggie’s arms, to be truthful. “Hang on.”

  He ran out the gate, scooped SJ up, ran across the road, unlocked the door, tossed him inside, relocked the door, and ran back over the road.

  “See?” He said to Huggie, who was watching him. “Safe inside. Just like Crusher.”

  With a grunt, Huggie entered the house, Crusher hanging over his shoulder.

  Grinning, Ed looked from Huggie to Sam. “In a fight you’d both come out pretty even, except I think Huggie would know more about dirty fighting than you.”