by Evie Claire
But if he knew something more about her—something as simple as what music she liked—they could talk about it when they saw each other.
“I’ll only look at the screen. I won’t open anything.” Promising it aloud made it sound better…in his mind, at least.
Besides, forwarding Amal’s video confirmed she was doing the same.
With one unpassword-protected swipe (he really needed to talk to her about that, by the way) Lorie Braddock’s life lay in the palm of his hand.
One app immediately caught his eye because it was on his phone as well.
Mario and Luigi’s.
“How does she know about Mario and Luigi’s?” It was his favorite hole-in-the-wall.
Forgetting his promise, he opened the app.
“Huh…” He rubbed a hand up the spiky hairs at the back of his neck, attempting to do some quick math. Her Pie Lover Loyalty Points sat at 563. Best he could remember he was in the neighborhood of 300.
No vegetarian or tofu pizza for her, either. She liked meat—Italian sausage, pepperoni, bacon, and mushrooms. And Dogwood Pilsner, too, according to the customized Lorie’s Favorites tab. Did her preferences possibly imply she had a boyfriend? Possibly. No one could eat that much by herself. Did he care if she had a boyfriend?
Mario’s. He thought about it, and before he thought too hard, he fired off a text.
Saam: 6pm @ Mario and Luigi’s
Was that weird? Was it obvious he was snooping? Did he care?
Oh shit, he thought. Maybe he did.
Lorie: Sounds great. See you then.
Her response was lightning fast. Was she sitting around waiting on his text? A grin played with the edge of his lips. He settled back into the couch again.
“Oops…” Saam said out loud as his finger accidentally brushed against a green and black app. Spotify pulled up, showing him Adele played on repeat. Not surprising given her ringtone.
He took a notepad from a nearby table and started to take notes.
1. Meat pizza
2. Adele
A bright orange dot caught his attention. His scrolled to it and opened up the Headspace app. A ten-minute guided meditation session was scheduled for nine-thirty. A time when most would start winding down for bed. Interesting. He scribbled another note.
3. Research the benefits of meditation.
He was beginning to feel a tinge of guilt when a notification from her Apple Watch popped up on the screen by itself. How could that be anything other than divine intervention? If he was reading it right, her daily activity tracker showed she was a runner.
“Jackpot,” he said aloud, marking down a final line item.
4. Talk about running.
When office headstands didn’t get his head right, running always did. Saam couldn’t believe they had so much in common. Things he never would have learned in his office. Because he was an asshole to drug reps. They were usually aggressive, and he had patients waiting. Lorie wasn’t aggressive. But his patients were his priority…inside the office.
Outside, like tomorrow when they would meet to swap phones, was a different story.
Closing out of the activity tracker, his eye was drawn to a brightly colored rainbow camera.
Oh, it was so very tempting. Lorie was probably a social media queen. But that was a level of creepy he refused to stoop to.
Clicking the side button, he darkened the screen. There was a better way to social stalk.
He moved an armful of moving boxes from his desk chair, fired up his laptop, and navigated to Instagram. He had a profile. One with two shared pictures and, predictably, nothing on his profile, either. God. He was the worst social-stalker ever. But friendships didn’t come easily for him. He wasn’t an extroverted kind of guy.
He moved his cursor to the search field. Typed in Lorie Braddock. And sent up a silent prayer when he clicked the return key.
And by the merciful gods of cyberstalkers, Lorie’s profile appeared, and it was public. He didn’t even have to friend her to get the goods.
Scrolling through pictures of her dog, drinks with friends, and artful shots of Oreos swimming in bowls of milk, his mind wandered into her world. Until he saw something that snapped his brain…and his penis…to attention. Lorie on a beach in a red string bikini. Standing in thigh deep water, the surf spray glistening on her tanned skin. Long blond hair loose, flowing down to her waist and tangled in the salty ocean spray.
It was like he was back in his childhood bedroom fantasizing to the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue all over again. The way her briny skin would taste. The heat of her suntanned warmth beneath his kisses.
Two dots sat below the picture—holy hell, there was more. He clicked right to find an image of Lorie from behind, sitting on her heels, looking out to sea, white sand on her soles and the edges of her bikini.
Damn it!
Below the desk, his pecker jumped to full salute. He slammed the laptop closed.
Shower. Steaming hot shower. With an icy finish. That’s what he needed. Of course, he’d probably end up whacking it while he was in there. How could he not? Lorie in a string bikini covered in beach sand? So, maybe not a shower.
Looking at his watch, he estimated he had time for a quick mile. He hadn’t planned to run tonight. But suddenly, it seemed like he had to.
He’d sprint. Hard as he could. Once to the intersection at Peachtree and back. By this time of night, the traffic was slower. He wouldn’t have to stop at every light. That would get anything off his mind.
Fifteen minutes later, he collapsed through his door, sweaty and exhausted, but no longer pervy. Sucking and blowing air, he leaned over, rested his hands on his knees, and began to stretch out his hamstrings. His body came back to normal. The bikini was forgotten. His pecker was in check. Now, maybe he could maintain control of adulting. From the desk, Lorie’s phone chimed again.
She had a million things to catch up on when she got her phone back. Saam put the device on silent and plugged it into his charger. Normally, he’d leave his phone on the desk. With all the research linking cellular waves to brain cancer he never slept near his. Now, he paused, looking down at her phone. Thinking. Wondering. Worrying. He picked it up and carried it to his bedside table.
What if she needed something in the middle of the night? She didn’t have her contacts, but she of course knew her own number. Was it horribly wrong of him to hope she had some minor emergency?
Chapter 8
Lorie
God bless Uber. Lorie’s main transportation was the car her company provided. And while some coworkers—ahem, Quinn—didn’t mind breaking the rules, Lorie wasn’t about to risk her job using the car for personal travel.
“Is this it?” the driver asked.
Lorie peered out the window at a familiar pizza-shaped sign and swallowed hard. It was understandable given her track record with Dr. Sherazi. It was also after hours and not exactly work related. Am I crossing a line?
“Yes, thank you.” Lorie stepped from the car, pausing on the sidewalk longer than normal to figure the tip for her trip.
It wasn’t her Uber app she was using. It was his.
Uber—$15.61.
She fired off the text to herself.
They were in a gray area. There were no rules governing switched phones. No concrete lines around meetings at a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint. It was virgin territory. Her relationship with Dr. Sherazi wasn’t exactly good and yet they were about to have dinner. Something that assured her more face time with him than any Durden rep had ever gotten before.
At Mario’s.
Her eyes narrowed as she thought about it.
What a coincidence—him suggesting they meet at her favorite pizza place. At dinnertime. Mario’s was so far off the beaten path you had to either be a local or lucky as hell to k
now it existed. Either Dr. Sherazi was her soulmate or he had looked at her phone.
Fine by her. It had been a stressful twenty-four hours. Bacon, sausage, pepperoni, and mushroom pizza on a thick, garlic butter crust washed down with an ice-cold IPA sounded perfect. What better way to forget a bad day?
She smoothed her hair into place—wondering if the low, messy braid was unprofessional. That coupled with her weekend makeup might be too much. But, yesterday had thoroughly kicked her ass, she needed a little pick-me-up, and it wasn’t technically work.
Still, she had a goal in mind for the night—breaking the code that unlocked Dr. Saam Sherazi.
He said he wanted research. As Durden Pharmaceuticals’ regional research liaison—a big title for a tiny job that simply meant she called on the doctors who studied diabetes at the CDC—she could certainly give him research.
Five years. She reminded herself. Victoria did it in five years. She mentally collected herself and pushed through the door into Mario’s.
“How many in your party?” A waitress greeted her near the door.
“Oh, I’m meeting someone,” Lorie answered, scanning the restaurant for his face. She smoothed a flowery, dressy-casual top into place, tucking the hem of it into her jeans in a last-minute fashion choice. Should she have stayed in her suit?
Before she could decide, the waitress’s expression caught her attention. First twisting in shock, then falling in disbelief, only to curl into a ravenous smile in a matter of seconds. The waitress couldn’t take her eyes off something just over Lorie’s shoulder. What’s the sudden excitement? Turning to see what had her worked up, Lorie startled when a hand found her elbow. Jerking around reflexively, she found herself pushed up against Dr. Sherazi in the narrow entryway.
“Oh!” she startled and struggled to keep her feet.
A lopsided smile stopped just short of his eyes. Those were too busy holding her in a gaze so penetrating Lorie felt it. Or was that his hand still cupping her elbow? She wasn’t quite sure. Because, damn, he was hot. And she was not prepared for the butterflies his McSteamy hotness sent skittering through her.
Out of his white lab coat, he looked so…normal. The low hem of his navy V-neck teased at chest and shoulder muscles his work clothes hid. Eyes so blue, skin so dark, hair so tousled it begged to be finger-combed—everything about him was exotic and intense and made the waitress’s hunger completely understandable. Infectious even.
“Lorie…” his voice low, like he was equal parts relieved and surprised to find her in the restaurant they’d agreed to meet at annnd at the time they’d agreed to meet.
“Dr. Sherazi,” she said, stepping back and holding out a hand to shake.
“No.” He stopped her. Quickly, his fingers grazed the delicate skin between elbow and wrist, landing in her waiting palm and grabbing hold. The simple move popped goosebumps down the length of her, and, much to her horror, her nipples followed suit. He shook his head and stared at the hands clasped between them, leaning into her and whispering, “I mean…no, don’t call me Dr. Sherazi.” His free hand dove deeply into his front pocket and his eyes drifted down. Still leaning in, still whispering, he added, “Call me Saam. Please.”
Lorie hesitated. Thrown off her game by his new demeanor. Usually, she read people in an instant. Not him. It was a total one-eighty from the encounter they’d had in his office just yesterday. He was neither aloof nor standoffish. He was practically pressed up against her. Was he leveling the playing field? And if he was, why?
“Saam,” Lorie said and found her wide, reassuring grin, more for her own benefit than his. “Thanks,” she offered, admitting her own unease. “I wasn’t sure how to pronounce your first name.”
“No one ever is. Except for my family.” He peeked once before his eyes left the floor and fully committed to re-establishing eye contact. She inhaled quickly, bracing against it. Because when those sapphire-dagger eyes of his were accompanied by a sheepish grin, she had a hard time remembering what to say. Was he charming? Since when? “Would you like some pizza?” he asked, while she struggled to make sense of things.
“Can I help you?” The waitress was at his side, perky and helpful and hopeful as she interrupted their conversation. He declined her help, keeping his focus on Lorie. The weight of his attention was so palpable she managed nothing more than a nod. Pizza, good, she thought.
“Are you okay eating at the bar?”
Again, she nodded.
“Saam, my man!” the bartender called out in a friendly way. “You dining in tonight?”
His hand was still on her elbow as they turned for the small room that served as Mario’s bar. She stepped out of his grasp in an attempt to focus herself. This was so not going the way she needed it to. How was she supposed to talk about work when a simple touch made her nipples so damn rebellious? She couldn’t eat pizza with her arms crossed over her chest all evening.
“They know you?” Lorie asked quickly—and dumbly, because wasn’t that obvious?
“I come here a lot.” Saam stepped aside and ushered Lorie forward to a table on the far side of the bar that offered a bit of privacy.
“Me…too,” Lorie said slowly. Accusingly.
“Best pizza in town. I get it to go, though. So, the bartender and I are tight.” Saam nodded at the man like guys do.
Lorie took a seat. “You come here, too? I thought you—”
“Looked at your phone?” He cut her off, taking his own seat and resting his forearms over the tabletop. “Didn’t we both do that?”
Lorie’s lips twisted. “Yeah, I had to use your Uber app to get here, by the way. I have cash,” Lorie offered, reaching for her purse.
He waved her offer away. “I’m not concerned about an Uber ride.”
“I want to pay you back.”
“I’d rather hear what you found snooping on my phone.” His smile was back, no longer lopsided but brimming with the kind of confidence that made her lips curve, too. What was that?
He winked for good measure. Her mouth fell open. Wait a minute, slightly charming and now he was flirting? Lorie stilled, brow tightening as she made sense of the total stranger she was dining with. He was hot. He was flirting. He was so not someone she should be interested in. But suddenly, she was.
It had been a while. Lorie’s flirting skills were rusty. But the desire to give it right back to him was so overwhelming, it eclipsed her earlier goals.
“Aside from your adorable nieces, not much. You don’t seem to have much going on.” Strong personalities usually responded best to a challenge. With such short notice, it was the best she could do. God, please let him possess the social skills to know she was teasing.
“Wish I could say the same for you,” he shot right back.
“Oh yeah?”
“Does your phone ever shut up?”
“Ha-ha,” she faked. “But, no, it doesn’t. You should’ve turned it off.” That she was serious about.
“But, like I said before, you aren’t Gal Gadot. What if you needed me in the night?”
Lorie swallowed. Who the hell was she having dinner with? Better yet, why was she leaning in, chin resting in a palm, staring?
“That was…thoughtful.”
He gave a quick shrug at the accusation and took a menu.
“I know you’re a runner,” he offered. “Your activity tracker popped up,” he clarified.
Lorie sat back, realization slowly washing over her face. He wanted to know her. “Yes, I recently started running.”
“How recently?”
“Um, like a year, I guess.” She paused to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t encouraged to run when I was younger.”
“Why not?” His head popped up from the menu for a minute and then immediately went back down.
“It forms too much definition in your leg muscles.
Not very ladylike.”
“I don’t think ladies come more…like…than you.” He said all this with his head still buried in the menu. Was it overt flirtation or just his way?
Either way, Lorie blushed, swallowing hard and finding the table easier to focus on. Because, what? The comment was way more than she was prepared for, and it left her torn between discomfort and excitement. If they were in the office, where her professionalism was being judged, she would have shut him down and left. But they were in a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint. And shutting him down was the last thing she wanted.
“Oh, you mean because of your pageants?” His forehead creased like it finally made sense. Okay, so maybe his ladylike comment wasn’t as overtly sexual as it first seemed. But then she had to wonder…
“How do you know I was in pageants?”
“Not from your phone. My nurse told me.”
“How does she know that?” And why was he asking his nurse about her?
“In case you haven’t picked up on it yet, nurses love to gossip. If it’s google-able they’ve found it.”
“Right, everybody loves gossip, huh?” Lorie blanched at the thought. Didn’t she know that truth. “What would they say about you having dinner with one of your drug reps?”
“Well, considering I still can’t remember what drug you actually sell, we couldn’t play it off as a work dinner, could we?”
Lorie huffed a disbelieving laugh. One second he was flirty, the next he was flippant. What was his deal?
“I sell Lampalin. It’s an insulin.” Her unease was quickly turning to ire.
He wasn’t so charming when he dismissed her job as something inconsequential.
“Good for you. I’m a doctor. When I’m in the office I see patients. I learn on my time. Not theirs. If you want to teach me about…Lampalin…fine. But not when I have three patients waiting to be seen.”