by Evie Claire
Leaned up against his car like he’d been waiting for her all night.
She peered behind him into the front seat of his car. His date was gone. Which would’ve been totally weird.
“What are you doing here?” Lorie asked, her guard growing. She wasn’t prepared for this.
“Waiting on you.” He shrugged, and then shook his head, bringing a hand to his temple, obviously realizing how creepy he possibly sounded. He looked up the empty street, peering into the distance and then shaking his head again before he pushed off the car door and started across the street.
Brad barked again, his howl intensifying to protect his mama against a nearing threat.
“Shh…” she reassured him everything was okay. Wishing she could do the same for herself.
Saam jogged across the street, hands in his pockets, and stopped on the sidewalk in front of Lorie. Lorie’s blood rippled, the addition of his energy into her personal space instantly rearranging her chemistry like it always did. He leaned into her, and then rocked back on his heels, removing a hand from his pocket and rubbing along the spiky hairs at the base of his neck. Thinking.
Brad moved between them, sniffing Saam’s oxfords to be certain he was okay.
“Thing is…” He paused still searching for words. “I know what that song means to you, Lorie. Hell, tonight the entire wedding party could feel what it means to you.” He looked down at Brad. “And if you see me anywhere in those words, I…”
Saam bent down, offering his hand to Brad, apparently stalling.
“Where’s your date?” Lorie asked the question with more snark than she’d intended.
“Date?” Saam stood, shaking his head.
“Your wedding date,” Lorie said to jog his memory. “Alice told me about your new position with the camp, and that’s really great. But if you were there with someone tonight I really don’t understand why you’re here now.”
“Alice was my date.” Saam used the air quotes Lorie was so fond of. “We were working the event.”
“Was Alice your date at your funding presentation?”
“Amal came with me. I was hoping to introduce you two. But you disappeared.”
“Oh,” Lorie said, stiffly turning away on the pretense of walking Brad farther down the sidewalk. How had she not recognized Amal? Of course, they’d never met, and she hadn’t exactly seen her face. And with all the emotions flooding her brain at that moment in time, a misunderstanding was understandable.
Still, she needed to get away from him and the funky things he did to her so she could think. Because if Amal and Alice were his dates…and he wasn’t moving to Jacksonville…and he was no longer considered one of her physicians…what reason did she have left to stay away from him?
“Lorie, stop,” Saam said, and immediately Brad’s rear end hit the pavement on command, stopping Lorie, too.
“You didn’t respond,” she mumbled without looking. “When I accidentally liked Amal’s picture and texted you, you didn’t respond.”
“No.” He let out an audible breath. “I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“I blocked you, Lorie. If you texted me or called, I never saw it.”
“You blocked me?” She snorted disbelievingly. Why did that feel like such a cheap shot?
Slowly, Saam started nodding, again his hands on the hair at his neck like he did when he was thinking…and nervous.
“I don’t like things I can’t control. I don’t do emotions and feelings particularly well. I always seem to come out on the losing end of those. Facts, data, certainties—that’s what I rely on. You haven’t exactly been any of those in my life.”
“Relationships are never…certainties.” Lorie finished his hypothesis.
“Nope.” Saam gently took her arm, turning her back to him. “I don’t like the idea of giving myself over to something I can’t control.” Saam slid his hand slowly down her arm, his fingers lingering on hers when he was done. “I hate the idea of possibly having to let you go again, but here I am. Asking you to give us one more chance.”
Wh…what?
Lorie’s fingers closed around his. God his touch felt good on her skin again. The intense navy of his gaze bore into her and when an evening breeze picked up, blowing over them on the sidewalk, it took every last no she had along with it.
Because standing there, with his magnetic field hopelessly disrupting the flow of hers in every way it ever should, Dr. Saam Sherazi felt like everything a man ever should. She stepped into him. Her arm found its way around his waist, the bulky handle of Brad’s leash tangling with his belt loops.
“I won my award,” she offered. “Next month I leave for Jamaica on the winner’s trip.” Her head nodded and then stopped. “Alone.”
Saam cocked his head to the side.
“Try as I might, I couldn’t think of a single person I wanted to take. Except you.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head at the thought. “Winning has never felt so empty for me. What’s it all for if there isn’t anyone to share it with?”
“I agree.”
“I couldn’t see a way that we worked.” She glanced up. “Now I do. Only I’m afraid it’s too late.”
“Why?”
“I was awful to you. I was so blinded by what I thought we both wanted, I couldn’t see what it was we needed. How could you ever forgive me?”
“I couldn’t. Until your confession tonight.” Saam hooked a finger under her chin, lifting her face to meet his. “I don’t know what this is between us, but I do know we would be fools to try and ignore it.”
“Is that your professional medical opinion?” Lorie’s smile rivaled the bride’s because, damn, he was saying everything she needed to hear, which wasn’t what she was prepared for.
Saam lowered his forehead to hers, taking her in that silent way of his. The way that she had grown to admire. A way that made everything Saam did feel like so…much…more.
“Well, I haven’t fully examined the patient,” he offered, pulling his head away and taking her in.
Lorie giggled, leaning into him and lifting up on her tiptoes.
He didn’t waste time. Closing the distance between them, their lips met with the same firecracker chemistry they always had. A feeling so intense Lorie had to wonder what kind of paralytic state she had to have been living life in to not know—without a doubt—that Saam was the only one she wanted to feel her love…ever.
After minutes of making out on the street like teenagers, Saam pulled away and looked at the time on his phone.
“You’re going to kill me, but I have to go.” He grimaced.
“What?”
“I’ve got a flight to catch. But I couldn’t leave town without at least trying to make things right with you.”
“Where are you going?”
Saam winced and then half smiled.
“Jacksonville?”
Lorie let out a disbelieving huff. A beautiful make-up scene, and then the guy just disappears?
“I know.” Saam held up a hand. “I promised Amal I would come to the girls’ ballet recital. It’s just a couple of days.”
“Okay, yeah.” Lorie couldn’t help but frown at the ridiculous turn of events her night had taken. “I mean, I have brunch plans tomorrow anyway. I’d be rude to cancel,” she said, but frowned again, because she certainly wouldn’t mind moving their make-out sesh inside.
“And you always aim to please,” Saam said and leaned in for another kiss. “Really, I’ve got like two hours before takeoff and security is usually a zoo. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He was giddy, bouncing around like a schoolboy instead of a polished and highly trained doctor.
“Then go!” Lorie waved him away. “Don’t disappoint those little girls.”
“I’m going!” Saam darted across the street and back into his
car. He fired up the engine and sped off into the night. Lorie turned back to Brad, patiently waiting at her feet, and squealed into the silence.
“Oh. My. Gosh!” she trilled as the little dog cocked his head to the side.
How long did she stand there, staring at Brad? Maybe minutes. Maybe an hour. She only came back to her senses when her phone vibrated against her bra strap. In the distance, a car screeched to a halt.
She took her phone and, swiping it open, found a text from an unidentified number.
9007834299: Thank you for choosing Delta. Your trip: ATL to JAX flight time 11:45 P.M.
“What?” she mumbled. Delta?
Her phone chimed again, another message box appearing atop the screen. What was going on?
More traffic noise sounded in the distance. Louder than usual on her quiet side street. Tires peeling and engines revving. Seconds later a sleek silver Volvo slid to a stop in front of her on the curb. He rolled down the passenger side window, fixed her with a sheepish gaze, and gave an easy shrug that silently asked—What’s it gonna be?
Her phone vibrated in her palm. She looked down and read a simple text that sent chills racing the length of her.
Saam: Truth or dare?
To every #ladyboss who refuses to settle—this book is for you.
Acknowledgments
Being a toddler mom/writer is seriously tough work. It truly does take a village and I want to thank all the people who love on my babies while I’m at the keyboard. To The Mister, who believes in my writing more than I do sometimes—and helps me shake off the setbacks. To my friends, who are always down for cocktails when I need to “get out of my own head” for a bit. To my little loves, who make me giggle when I need it most.
BY EVIE CLAIRE
Let’s Talk About Sext
I Wanna Sext You Up
About the Author
EVIE CLAIRE lives in Athens, Georgia, with her husband and two young daughters. Her other loves include Bulletproof coffee, red wine, yoga pants, and broody romance heroes (she once owned a pony named Darcy).
evieclaire.com
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Sext with Me
by Evie Claire
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 3
Talia
What a gorgeous fall day. Talia thought to herself as she made her way through the connecting corridors that led into the Special Collections library. Dappled sunshine spilled through the windows, lifting her mood and basically begging her to come out and play. She would do her computer work first. Then maybe take her afternoon paperwork into the garden behind the library. Mrs. Copeland would never approve, but it was Talia’s library now.
She smiled at the thought, pulling the double doors wide like a princess entering her chambers. If she had been greeted by cartoon song birds and dancing bunnies it wouldn’t have surprised her. This place was her definition of happy.
Every time she entered the sacred space—even if it was the hundredth time that day—she inhaled deeply, pulling in the mingled traces of old ink, brittle parchment, worn leather and life into her senses. Sometimes, if she breathed deeply enough, she could almost taste the pages.
Was that weird? She slowed her pace, lifting her gaze upward as she thought.
Okay, yes, that was definitely a bit weird.
But it was her happy smell in her happy place. She loved old things, she craved books, she had a naturally maternal streak. And since kids weren’t on the horizon anytime soon, these books were her babies. And she loved each one as if she’d birthed it herself.
There were the classic love stories to the right upon entry. Recently upgraded by the addition of an autographed copy of Sense and Sensibility—purchased from the library of an Austen cousin. It was a huge donation and one of a handful of books that required its own insurance policy.
History books lined the shelves surrounding a bank of windows to the left. Among the tomes, Talmadge University boasted the largest collection of historically relevant handwritten solider diaries from every major skirmish to occur on American soil. One dated back to the French and Indian War—its pages filled with flowery French prose and elegant calligraphy.
Talia was also responsible for collecting and organizing the research and writings—published or unpublished—for all Talmadge professors. Which sadly and boringly took up the majority of her days. Academics surely had a lot to say on topics most didn’t care to hear. Those were relegated to the back room.
Still, she relished the peace and quiet of her tiny domain. Her desk was ornate and ancient, sitting high above the library floor like a pulpit. Sitting behind it she felt like a flea, but she could see every corner, every spine, and every shelf cradling her babies. She spun around as she entered, taking it all in, her mind swimming with the responsibility.
A girl could be excited and have her doubts at the same time, right? That was an understandable psychological response to any major life change.
A small box waited on her desk, obviously delivered while she’d been celebrating. Inspecting the label, she muffled her squeal best she could when she realized what it held. Ripping—carefully—into the thin cardboard, she pulled out a small rectangular card and ran her finger over the raised ink.
Talia K. Crump
Talmadge University
Special Collections Librarian
555-602-3933
The card trembled in her hand. Her mouth fell open and her momentary happiness whooshed out of her in a trembling groan.
What?
Mrs. McTavish ordered the business cards for her. Talia hadn’t thought to check anything because she’d been in the Talmadge system for years. The handful of months spent as Talia K. Crump had been the costliest mistake of her life. One she was desperate to forget. She hadn’t gone by Crump in years, not since she’d had it legally changed. So, why was that name still in the system?
“What’s wrong, Talia King?” A voice came from out of nowhere.
Having assumed she was alone in her library, even the gentle and vaguely concerned tone of an unmistakably male voice was enough to startle her badly enough to drop the card as she whirled around with a gasp.
The card fluttered to the floor and she stood frozen as a familiar head of lightly salted chocolate hair bent to retrieve it.
“Professor Radclyffe!” Talia exclaimed, reaching behind her for the reassuring edge of her desk. Tumbling to the floor like the card would be decidedly unprofessional and the man did have a way of unsettling the natural order of things. It didn’t help matters that he’d invaded her personal space to retrieve the card.
Straightening, Maxwell’s concern slowly morphed into amusement. He skimmed the card several times, his smile growing with each pass.
“Your first business card, I assume?” He tilted his head toward her and turned the card over in his hand.
“Um…yes,” Talia released the desk, tucking her hair behind an ear. Finding her confidence after a moment, she crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight away from Maxwell.
“That’s great. Why the frown?” His gaze was intense, eyes tightened just enough to engage the laugh lines feathering away from them, like she was a riddle he intended to solve.
Talia found Maxwell to be an odd sort. Because while his very presence in a room had an unsettling effect on her, the moment he began speaking, his interest was so genuine, it resettled her. She reached beside her and plucked another card from the box.
Since there was a decent chance her new school beanie had dashed her chances of being seen as the pillar of professional deco
rum, and since the problem had to find a resolution sooner rather than later, she decided to ask.
“My name is wrong. How do I fix that?”
Maxwell nodded again, making a small sound as if her frown now made sense.
“Yes, it is. Who in the world is Talia K. Crump?” Maxwell tsked under his breath. “Surely it was a mix up at the print shop. They run these on campus. If you submit a new order today, you’ll have them by the end of the week.”
“Oh, well that’s much easier than I thought it would be.”
“You can do it all online through the employee portal.” Maxwell scanned the card again. “Desk or cell?” he pointed at the number.
“That’s my cell. Is that right?”
“Very few questions in life have a defined right or wrong answer. If you don’t want to be bothered after hours then use your desk line. If you don’t mind the imposition if someone urgently needs you, then use your cell. Or put both and let others decide what level of bother they will be.”
Talia’s chin lifted as he spoke. How was it that he made the most mundane decision sound like she was preparing to wager on Final Jeopardy?
“Right,” she said, her frown turning to resolution. She cleared her throat and tucked the business card back into the box. The ghost of mistakes past wouldn’t haunt her today. “What can I help you with, Professor Radclyffe? Were you unable to find Mrs. McTavish?”
“I’m here for you.” He let the ambiguity in his words linger, letting her own mind spin them into the thousand different meanings they could possibly hold. And because she still held the lingering assumption that Maxwell Radclyffe was an overly-sexed individual, her cheeks skipped over blush and went straight to a five-alarm flame. “Mrs. McTavish thinks you might be able to help me.”
The mention of Mrs. McTavish pulled Talia’s mind out of the gutter, and she bowed her head, letting her hair fall over her face, buying time for the redness to recede.