by Evie Claire
“I thought you didn’t understand feelings and emotions?” She moved closer, easing down the countertop, sliding her fingers over his where they lay on the granite.
Saam shook his head. “Did I do okay?” He lifted his hand off the cool stone, twisting their fingers together and pulling her closer still.
She playfully fell against him, wrapping her arm at his waist to catch herself. Leaning into his arms, she reached up, slid a hand along his jawline, skimming his earlobe with her fingertips, and then locked her grip at the back of his neck. God, what her touch did to him.
“You were perfect.” Pulling into him slightly as she spoke, she tilted her head to the side.
He let the compliment linger, moving his head to mirror hers and closing the inches she’d left between them.
Their lips met, igniting familiar flames that raced through him. Flames that burned the rational parts of his being to ash, charring the binds that held his irrational parts in check. After a week of naughty texts—sexts—and wet dreams, having her in the flesh was more than any man could handle.
Lorie’s hand found the hem of his button-down, ripping it free from his khakis and sliding her palms beneath it, up the solid length of his abdomen.
Pinioned between him and the kitchen counter, Lorie traced every inch she could reach, through the dips and peaks of his muscles, searching what lay hidden under the white linen fabric, her kisses intensifying with each new inch she discovered.
“Saam,” she breathed against his mouth in a tortured way. Not a question. Not an answer. A plea.
His fingers tangled in her hair, her anguish was everything he was feeling at that moment. Desperate. Needy. Hungry. Insatiable.
It was reckless. They were reckless. The way their bodies came together offered the only assurance that what they were doing was right. Needs met, questions answered, uncertainties forgotten—it was all found in the space where they came together.
Saam reached for Lorie’s shirt, skinning it over her head and throwing it to the floor. She made quick work of his buttons, thrusting her belly against his, her cool flesh to his flaming skin. The fabric melted away, over his shoulders, down his arms, and to the floor.
He stopped.
Their lips still together, but his hands momentarily checked from going any farther.
He had to stop. He would not make reckless love to Lorie again. She was more than that.
“Your bedroom?” His voice was husky against her lips.
“That way.” Lorie threw a hand over her head, pointing toward a door, still working on his clothes.
Without another word, and without breaking the contact of the kiss, he lifted her off the floor, into his arms, and carried her through the door.
She was a risk worth taking.
Chapter 20
Lorie
Saam: Is it wrong that I love the way you linger on my skin?
Lorie tiptoed over to her window and peeked through the blinds to an empty street below. Because that was just weird. How could Saam possibly know that she was loving the exact same thing? At the exact same moment?
She lifted the neckline of his undershirt, pulling it up over her nose, and drinking him in. Again. Thinking. Grinning.
Mmmm…Old Spice and Saam.
Yes, she loved the way his smell lingered on her, too. Was that kismet or creepy? The tail of his shirt skimmed her bare upper thigh as she strode back to the couch. She let the fabric fall from between her thumb and forefinger to reply.
Lorie: Only if it’s wrong that I’m still wearing your undershirt.
Lorie: You left it, BTW.
Saam: Damn, you make me think…
Lorie: ?
Saam: I’m going to need visual confirmation…
Lorie giggled, tousling her topknot and raising her phone into the air. She gave her best pouty smile and snapped a pic, sending it before she thought better of it.
Saam:
Then a row of dancing gray dots.
Lorie: I hope that’s a good kind of shock…
Saam: Have you ever seen a brain scan documenting the effects of heroin on an addict’s brain?
Lorie: Sure.
Saam: Seeing you in my undershirt produces the same effect. Serotonin overload. Look it up.
Lorie: Is that your professional medical opinion?
Saam: Dr. Sherazi is currently out of the office…
Saam: Attending to an urgent medical emergency.
Saam: With an image he can’t get out of his mind…
When the doorbell rang, Lorie was so lost in their sexting she practically levitated off the couch. When the door scraped open, she let out a scream that curdled into the rafters. Was she so distracted she’d forgotten to lock her door?
“Who is it?” Her voice high and tight, her mind racing, she reached for a sturdy candlestick.
“Lorie?”
She let out a deep, calming breath, and put the candlestick down.
“Liza!” Relief flooded through her. “You scared the shit out of me!” Rounding the corner into her condo’s main hallway, she gathered Brad—who hadn’t even bothered to bark—in her arms. “Some guard dog you are!” she teased, ruffling his ears and planting a kiss on top of his head. His fluffy tail whipped against her side. Liza stood in the doorway, hand on a hip, disapproval in her eyes.
“You might want these.” Liza twisted Lorie’s keys from the outside door lock and handed them over. “You also might want to put on some pants. Did you forget I was coming?” Liza’s face wrinkled accusingly. “We talked about this. I’m meeting with a caterer first thing tomorrow?”
“Noooo…of course…I didn’t forget.” She was a liar, and she needed to cover her tracks. “You’re so lucky to have the entire summer off.”
“Let’s compare paychecks and benefits before we decide who’s luckiest, m’kay?”
“Lorie?” Before she could answer, Phebe was halfway down the steps that separated their condos. “Are you okay?” She held a wooden baseball bat in her hand. God bless Phebe. And any intruder that dared to tangle with her.
“I’m fine. Just forgot Liza was coming…ummm…” Lorie’s attention snapped to Liza, forgetting the earlier lie. Liza threw her hands up in a told-you-so way. “Liza, Phebe. Phebe, Liza.”
“Cool. Are you joining us for Sunday Funday?” Phebe asked Liza, offering her non-self-defense-weapon-wielding hand to Liza to shake.
“I guess?” She shrugged.
“Okay. Let me swap this”—Phebe held up the bat—“for some bubbles, and I’ll be right back.”
“Sounds divine.”
Phebe turned to go but then her face lit up with recognition mid-spin.
“Wait, you’re the one marrying the booger picker?” Phebe waited for confirmation.
“Yeeeessss…” Liza dragged out her answer, clearly confused how a stranger knew so much about her life. Lorie face-palmed and shook her head. Busted. So. Busted.
“Thanks, Phebs,” she managed to get out through gritted teeth.
Phebe was on the top step before she paused and threw over her shoulder—“Lorie, you are going to put pants on for Sunday Funday, aren’t you?”
“Yep. And I’ll get glasses.” Lorie locked an arm through Liza’s, pulling her through the door and down the hallway into the kitchen/living area. She left the door open for Phebe. Without her keys in it this time.
“Booger picker? Really?”
“Sweetie, Jay Baxter still picked his boogers in middle school. Don’t act like you don’t remember.”
“He doesn’t do it now.”
“All men do it…” Lorie shrugged, trying to downplay the comment.
“You forgot I was coming,” Liza accused again, taking Brad in her arms when Lorie handed him over.
“My brain is sh
ot. Obviously.” Lorie jingled the keys in her hand, holding a finger-gun to her temple and pulling the trigger. She grabbed three flutes from a nearby cabinet and lined them up on the counter. “I’m going to find some pants.”
Lorie disappeared into her bedroom, grabbing the running shorts still crumpled on her floor from yesterday. She hadn’t needed to work out to work up a sweat. Parts of her warmed at the thought. But before her brain left her body again, her phone chimed.
Saam: Medical emergency in critical condition. Requesting assistance…
Lorie: You have no idea how badly I would love to, but my friends just came over. Maybe tomorrow?
Saam: Okay, send pics if there’s a pillow fight
Lorie laughed out loud at his response at the same moment she emerged from her room.
Phebe breezed down the hallway, popping a cork with an echo that faded into the room.
Liza leaned against the kitchen island, studying Lorie, her face falling further into slack-jawed shock with each passing second.
“Oh. My. Gosh.” She nearly squealed, putting the pieces together. “Who is he?”
“What are you talking about?” Lorie asked, tucking her phone away.
“The guy you are obviously texting with.”
“That was my mom.” Lie.
“Bullshit. Vi Braddock has never been that funny in her entire life.”
Lorie tousled her topknot, averting her gaze.
“Who is he?” She doubled down.
Lorie shrugged, trying to look as confused over the situation as she possibly could. She wasn’t ready to divulge her secrets just yet.
“Does this have something to do with your friend from yesterday?” Phebe poured the bubbles in the glasses, studying them instead of Lorie. “Because you’re still wearing his shirt. Your hair is a hot mess.” Phebe forced a glass into Lorie’s motionless hand. “And, baby girl, you’re glowing. Don’t give us that shit.”
“Friend?” Liza’s nostrils flared, and she snorted her disbelief.
Lorie looked from one face to the other, knowing her jig was up. Slowly, a guilty smile crept over her face, one she hid behind her hands as she walked back to the kitchen to plug in her phone.
“Finally! Somebody has more love drama than me!” Phebe fist-bumped Liza, celebrating their small victory over breaking Lorie. “Congratulations, by the way.” She offered as an afterthought.
“Thanks.” Liza reached for the foaming glass Phebe offered her. “Phebe…Phebe and Brody, right? I get the feeling we already know each other’s life story.” She cast a skeptical side-eye in Lorie’s direction.
“Probably,” Phebe answered, turning to Lorie for confirmation.
Lorie thought about it. “I never share dirty secrets. Only the fun stuff. But yes, you two know each other.”
“Fair enough, I have nothing to hide.” Phebe shrugged. “So, who’s the dirty little secret that’s gotten you all sexed up?” She stepped back to the sofa and slid over the armrest, pulling a pillow and Brad into her lap, once-overring Lorie as she did. Liza and Lorie moved from the kitchen to join her, Liza on the sofa’s other end, Lorie crisscross applesauce on an ottoman.
“I don’t even know where to start.” Lorie took a long sip of prosecco. She hadn’t planned on sharing anything yet. She also valued her friends’ advice.
“It’s the hottie asshole doctor, isn’t it?” Liza asked, scowling as she studied her lifelong BFF. She knew her too well.
“I don’t know about hottie asshole?” Phebe paused to think. “Do I?”
Liza was in total bird-dog mode and didn’t miss a beat. She sat up straighter, sensing there was definite drama in the air. “Two weeks ago, you hated him. When did this start?”
Lorie turned up her prosecco, finished what remained, and reached for a refill. “About a week ago.”
Liza mentally processed the time line. “You were at Camp Sunshine last weekend.”
“So was Saam,” she said, intentionally keeping her gaze on the bottle. “In my cabin.” She swallowed hard. “Just us two. All alone.” Rapture raced through her, only it was tinged with regret this time.
Lorie had no problem with what she and Saam were doing behind closed doors. And if he wasn’t her client she would be singing his name from the rooftops like Mary freakin’ Poppins. Admitting it aloud, however, brought a healthy dose of reality into the dream. Reminding her exactly how many lines she’d crossed.
“Oh, shit.” Liza turned up her glass, instinctively knowing what Lorie’s silence meant.
“You’re getting dirty with your doctor?” Phebe asked for clarity’s sake.
Lorie grimaced and nodded.
“Noooooo…” A chorus of disbelief lifted off the couch. This, Brad decided to bark at, as if offering his puppy opinion on what Mommy had done.
“How was it?”
“Are you insane?”
“You totally Grey’s Anatomy-ed him!”
The questions flew at Lorie like bullets—a firing squad she deserved for keeping it to herself.
“Okay, okay. Let me explain.”
“I’ll get Brody to bring another bottle,” Phebe offered, filling everyone’s glass to the rim and then sending a text.
“When I arrived at camp things were crazy. Camp Sunshine is in bad financial shape and, long story short, I got put in the counselor cabin. Not a big deal.” Lorie readjusted on the ottoman. “Saam…err…Dr. Sherazi…”
“Saam,” Liza and Phebe both corrected.
“If you’re sleeping with a guy, that automatically puts you on a first-name basis,” Phebe explained.
“Saam”—Lorie rolled her eyes—“serves on the Children’s Hospital board and volunteered his time—for free—to be the camp doctor that weekend. They’re struggling to make ends meet. It’s generous.”
“I don’t think you can call him an asshole anymore.” Liza grinned knowingly over her glass, pulling her knees up into her chest.
“No, I can’t call him an asshole.”
“Well, how was it?” Liza’s grin grew.
That was the problem. If it sucked, if it was the kind of sex one regretted before it finished, she wouldn’t be conflicted at all. But that wasn’t the case. Obviously. They were still going at it a week later.
Never in her life had she experienced the kind of chemistry created when her body found Saam’s. Not even in her wildest wet dreams. The memory of them had her so wrapped up in her own head she couldn’t think about anything else.
“Everything.” Lorie looked out the window. “Amazing. That’s the problem.”
“It’s a technicality.” Liza waved her glass in the air, annoyed with Lorie’s excuse. “One easily overcome. Hello, Grey’s Anatomy.”
“That’s different, Liza. They’re coworkers on Grey’s. Saam is my client. And what’s worse, before all this, he didn’t prescribe Lampalin at all. Now he does. His increase in prescription numbers could be responsible for my team winning the top sales award this year. Professionally speaking, sleeping with him makes me look like a whore.”
“Easy!” Liza sat up straight. “Don’t talk about my best friend like that.”
“That’s what I feel like.” Lorie rubbed her thumb over the ridge where the stem secured itself to the base of her glass. “But then when we’re together, the thought doesn’t cross my mind.”
“Don’t.” She raised a hand. “I know you, Lorie. If you slept with him, you really like him. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Phebe, who had remained silent, finally spoke up.
“No, there’s nothing wrong about sleeping with someone you genuinely like, but that’s not the point here.” Phebe got serious, her look sliding from a smiling Liza to a frowning Lorie. “Dr. Sherazi is the one you’ve been working on, right? The doctor your manager assigned you to?”
<
br /> Lorie nodded.
“And you’re sleeping with him?”
Lorie nodded.
“Okay, surely there are ways to fix this. Most important, though, what do you want?” Phebe asked.
“I want everything. I want him and I want what I’ve been busting my ass for. I shouldn’t have to choose.”
“I don’t disagree with you.” Phebe raised her hand, showing she was on Lorie’s side. “A man wouldn’t have to make the same choice. But they also aren’t considered whores for sleeping around.”
“If only you were my boss,” Lorie lamented.
“Wait, your boss is female, right?”
“Victoria.”
“Is she cool enough to understand your situation? She could be a resource.”
“You want me to call my boss and admit I’ve been sleeping with one of my doctors?”
“There is no way HR wrote a bylaw specifically saying who can and cannot enter your vagina while under the employment of Durden Pharmaceuticals. If you get fired over this, I can recommend an excellent attorney. What I’m asking is if Victoria could be a resource. Ask her a what-if. What if an employee was romantically involved with a physician?”
“I can tell you what happens. The girl before me was having an affair with a doctor and was ‘allowed to leave.’ ” Lorie used her air quotes liberally.
“You aren’t having an affair,” Phebe pointed out.
“True.” That did make it a little bit better.
“Lorie,” Liza called her name, the tone of it snapping her to attention. “Is it worth it? If you could have everything?” Liza had taken the felt flower garland from Camp Sunshine off the coffee table and twisted it around her wrist. “I want my best friend to be happy.” She didn’t look at Lorie when she said this. “You make so many other people happy. It’s your turn.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Lorie looked out the window again, dragging a hand down her face. “You’re right. I’ll call Victoria tomorrow.”
“Document everything.” Phebe leveled a serious look at Lorie. “Everything. Just in case.”
Lorie took a deep breath. Held it. Then slowly let it out. She felt better after talking about it. It wasn’t a secret bottled up inside. It was out. With it no longer festering inside her, Lorie started to see that, yes, maybe there was a way for her to have it all.