5
“I THINK I’m in love,” April breathed.
Looking around the studio, I decided that every single person present was mesmerized by Dr. Sam Long, hometown hero. The photo director had decided it would be a good idea for editorial to finish the interview during the shoot, so the pictures would look more natural. I was happy for the chance to see a staff writer in action, but I had to admit that I was also perversely interested in the information being drawn out of said subject.
“I grew up in upstate New York. I went to Cornell to study veterinary science, and after I graduated, I wound up in Albany specializing in equine research.” His engaging smile then faltered a bit. “I loved my work, but the pace was hectic. A couple of years went by and I began to have chest pains. I was diagnosed with a faulty heart valve.”
I felt an inexplicable stab of alarm.
“Did you have surgery?” the writer asked.
“No. The problem is inoperable, but my doctor said I’d be fine as long as my lifestyle improved.” He lifted his arms in an appealing shrug and the photographer clicked away. “So I looked for a small town where I could start a vet practice, and Jar Hollow was the place I found.”
“Sounds like Mayberry.”
He nodded. “It’s a quiet lifestyle, but I enjoy it.” Then he laughed. “Actually, I started feeling as if I had too much time on my hands, which is why I became a volunteer firefighter.”
“That doesn’t present a problem with your heart condition?”
“Not for as infrequently as I’m called,” he said. “My doctor said the real danger is constant, prolonged stress.” He grinned. “That’s why I’m still single.”
A round of laughter sounded, and the photographer clicked more shots. I swore his gaze flickered in my direction.
“He looked at me,” April said, sitting up straighter. “I told you he was interested.”
I glanced sideways at her. “It would never work out between you two.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t like dogs, remember?” I made a mock regretful noise.
She smirked. “Probably just as well—with a heart condition, he wouldn’t last one night in bed with me.”
I frowned. How could she do that—insult me without even knowing she was insulting me? I decided I would have to tell Jacki to add a new ground rule: determine if your one-night stand has a heart condition before signing on.
“Tell me about the nursing home fire,” the writer said to Sam.
“I was in town picking up supplies. I drove by the nursing home, saw the smoke, and called 911. But the building is an old wooden structure, so I knew I couldn’t stand by and wait for the fire truck to arrive.”
“What did you do?”
“I had my gear in the back of my pickup—”
“He drives a pickup,” April whispered. “Isn’t that exotic?”
“Shh,” I hissed.
“—so I began the evacuation.”
“You make it sound routine,” the writer said.
“It was,” Sam said easily, “until some of the patients became confused. I went in and led them to safety.”
“Again, you’re very blasé about it.”
Sam shrugged. “I’m not trying to make light of a serious situation, but I only did what anyone would have done under the circumstances. I’m just very glad that everyone is okay.”
“Correction,” April said with a moan. “I know I’m in love.”
I might have been ready to swoon myself, if I hadn’t been wound up as tight as a twisted rubber band. I looked at my watch, willing the hands to speed along. Every minute I spent in this man’s company, I grew more and more antsy. I couldn’t look at him, and I couldn’t look away. I vacillated between wishing last night had never happened, and wishing it could happen again—which was absurd. Oh, sure, the more the man talked, the more I admired him. But the more he revealed about his life, the more he painted a picture of a world vastly different than mine. Plus my body’s defense mechanisms had kicked in—my nose ran and my eyes watered painfully. Still, snatches of scenes from the night before replayed in my mind, as if I were pushing a feel-good button over and over.
By the time the session ended, I was a mess. I was tempted to bail on joining them for lunch, but April was so worked up after Sam put on a fire helmet and yellow jacket from the props department, I was afraid she might set herself on fire just to get him to douse her with something. Besides, Sam would be leaving after lunch, so our time together was almost up. And I had to admit that a small part of me was hoping I would get to talk to him in private, to say…well, something brilliant, I hoped.
“I need to drop by my office to get my bag,” I said.
“I’ll go with you,” Sam said.
April looked at us suspiciously.
My mind raced. “Yes…and I’ll take you to speak with Helena about the cover.”
We maintained a tense silence as we stepped off the elevator and April reluctantly veered toward her office with the promise to meet us in twenty minutes. I counted, and he waited a full six seconds before breaking the silence with a hammer.
“Was this a setup?”
I stared. Of all the things I’d imagined he’d say when we were alone, that wasn’t on the list. “Excuse me?”
“Did you know who I was when you saw me last night?”
“What? No!” My nervousness fled and irritation landed on my head. “Trust me, no one was more surprised than I was when you walked into that meeting this morning.”
His expression was wry. “‘Trust me,’ says the woman who pilfered my dress shirt.”
I crossed my arms. “I left you…something.”
“I know. And while they were lovely and special, I couldn’t very well wear them to the meeting.”
A flush started at my knees and worked its way up. The elevator doors opened and three people alighted, talking amongst themselves. I lowered my voice. “Let’s continue this discussion in my office, shall we?”
I led him to my office and waves of humiliation rolled over me as I gestured for him to step inside the cramped closet-sized space. There was barely room for the both of us and my desk. I don’t know that I would have consciously remembered the musky clean scent of him, but when it reached my nose, my body responded like one of Pavlov’s dogs. His smile wavered and I had the feeling that he, too, was remembering how intensely our bodies had connected last night. I tried to remember what we had been talking about in the hall, but I seemed to have left my brain out there. Absently, I reached up to play with my shirt collar, and remembered.
“I’m sorry about taking your shirt. I overslept and my blouse was stained, and I…”
His eyes danced. “Didn’t want everyone to know you hadn’t been home?”
I shrugged, cheeks flaming. “I guess I’m not very good at…this.”
“Don’t worry about the shirt,” he said, giving it a once-over. “Even stained, it never looked so good.”
My mouth went dry.
“I could get used to having you around.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
He gestured to my pristine desk and hanging file system. “My home office is a wreck. I need your organization skills.”
“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Listen, Dr.— Sam. You have to believe me that I didn’t know who you were when I…met you last night.”
He pulled on his chin. “Okay. What happened to the science project?”
I involuntarily glanced toward my purse, then back.
He followed my glance. “So you took that, too.”
I squirmed. “It was my birthday present, after all.”
“I suppose you’re right.” He picked up my favorite pen lying on my desk and studied it with little-boy fascination. “And did it turn out…accurately?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress my smile. Samuel Long, Cornell grad, veterinarian and bona fide hero, was still a man. “I’d say that it is a reasonable facsimile.”
He looked at me and his grin was so sexy, I had that teenager-wanna-squeal feeling.
“I only ask,” he said, “because what if I agree to be on the cover of your magazine and then you go public with my facsimile? I wouldn’t want to be embarrassed.”
We laughed, and I decided that he couldn’t be for real. No man was this…incredible…and single…and in proximity to me. As quickly as we’d burst into laughter, we got quiet again. He moved closer and I…I…sneezed three times in succession, effectively ending whatever the moment might have become.
“That’s some allergy,” he said as I blew my nose on his handkerchief.
“I should take my antihistamine before we go to lunch,” I said, rummaging in my desk drawer.
“Have you ever considered a natural remedy?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll feel better in a few hours.” I suspected that my recovery would coincide with Sam’s departure.
We stopped by Helena’s office, and she was her gracious self, but Sam still wouldn’t commit to having his picture on the cover.
“I’ll need your answer by tomorrow,” Helena said. “And I trust it will be ‘yes.’”
“I’ll let you know,” he said.
“Helena just purchased a Yorkie,” I said.
He smiled. “Did you?”
The look that came over Helena’s face was not unlike a proud parent. “Yes, she’s adorable.”
“How old?”
“Almost ten months.”
“Ah. I hope you’ve had her spayed,” he said.
A furrow appeared in Helena’s brow. “Not yet.”
“It’s the right thing to do unless you’re going to breed her.”
Helena’s shoulders went back. “I’ll…think about it.”
“Helena, would you like to join us for lunch?” I asked, mostly to change the subject.
She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m expecting a phone call from the west coast. You’ll be in good hands with Kenzie, Dr. Long.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Sam said mildly.
“Kenzie,” Helena said, eyeing my stained shirt with a frown, “you may wear my jacket to lunch.” She looked back to her work, and I obediently removed her silver-gray Fendi jacket from her valet stand in the corner and escaped.
As we walked back toward the elevator, I slid my arms reverently into the jacket, with Sam’s help. “My boss isn’t used to being defied.”
“Demanding, huh?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted. “But she’s fair. And I love my job.”
“You like living and working in the city.”
“Yes. I’m a city girl, through and through.”
He pursed his mouth. “Where’s your family?”
“There’s just my dad,” I said as casually as possible. “He lives in Boston. He’s a criminal attorney, and he’s extremely busy. I don’t see him very often.”
“Oh.” He was polite enough not to press.
“How about your family?”
“My folks live about an hour north of me, and my brother lives in Albany. We’re all close.” He laughed. “Sometimes too close.”
Envy struck me hard, and I realized that the more we talked, the more our differences were underlined. It was probably a good thing we hadn’t exchanged many words last night, else we would’ve scared each other off before making it to bed. Jacki’s ground rules were making more and more sense.
“There you are,” April said, sashaying into view. She’d taken advantage of the break to freshen up. Her dark hair lay in perfect waves around her shoulders, and her lips were vibrant red. Sex appeal buffeted from her. “I’m starving,” she said, then looked at Sam and licked her lips.
“Then we’ll hurry,” I said. “We wouldn’t want you to wither away.” I stabbed the elevator button, embarrassed for April for flirting, and embarrassed for me for caring that she flirted.
Throughout lunch, Sam seemed infuriatingly unaware of April’s sucking-up. He laughed at her lame jokes and didn’t object when she snitched a forkful of his rice pilaf. My head and nose were thoroughly stopped up by now, so I couldn’t taste anything. Besides, I couldn’t stop sneezing long enough to eat. I sat with my face in a hanky and watched April and Sam…relate. The longer I watched them, the more defrauded I felt. Sam was an equal-opportunity charmer. The connection I’d imagined last night was a byproduct of my naivete. My former naiveté, I thought, remembering my newfound maturity.
I couldn’t explain why it so bothered me that I’d been deluded—it wasn’t as if Sam and I could ever have made a go of it. He lived in a small town; I lived in a small apartment. He drove a pickup; I’d driven twice. He had a big wholesome family, I had a big account with Thai-to-Go. And wasn’t my body’s rejection of him proof that Sam was all wrong for me?
Not soon enough, lunch ended. Sam was going straight to the airport, so he stepped to the curb to hail a taxi.
“If you’re ever near Jar Hollow,” he said to no one in particular, “look me up.”
“Do you think you’ll be back in the city any time soon?” April asked, her voice full of invitation.
He gave us a little smile, and shook his head. “I’m not much of a city boy.”
My heart sagged. Translation: There isn’t anything worth coming back for.
“It was very nice to meet you, Sam,” April said, then offered her hand, palm down in case, I surmised, he wanted to kiss it. Instead he shook her hand and said something nice.
When he looked my way, I conjured up a cheerful smile. “I know all of Jar Hollow will be proud when the hometown hero issue is released in two weeks.” I stuck out my hand. “Good luck.”
He looked at my hand, then squeezed it between both of his hands. “Good luck to you, too, Kenzie.” He winked, then swung into the cab. And just like that, my one-night stand rode away.
I had to listen to April chatter about him all the way back to the office. By the time we alighted from the elevator, I was ready to strangle her with my purse strap.
“And that body,” April said with a groan. “Can you imagine what the man looks like without clothes?”
“I can imagine,” I said with a flat smile. “See you later.” I peeled off toward my office and when I arrived, fell into my desk chair. I just wanted the day to end so I could go home, take a long bath, and sort things through. I wanted to call Jacki, but right now I didn’t have the energy. Besides, this turn of events necessitated a face-to-face, alcohol-laced tête-à-tête. Somehow I dragged myself through the rest of the afternoon without giving in to the urge to open my purse for a look-see at the dildo. There was time later to ogle—and enjoy—I told myself.
I delivered the circulation summary report when I returned Helena’s jacket. She wasn’t in her office, but her phone was ringing. I picked up the receiver. “Personality magazine, Helena Birch’s office.”
“Is Ms. Birch available?” asked a woman with a heavy accent. Italian? Middle-Eastern?
“No, but I’ll take a message.”
“This is Madame Blackworth returning her call.”
I frowned at the woman’s sales-y, drawn-out enunciation. “I’ll give her the message.”
“Thank you.”
I returned the phone and scribbled a message on a notepad, then picked up a thick stack of files from the box on Helena’s desk that read “Kenzie.” I heaved a sigh—not only would I be working late, but the weekend looked iffy.
Around seven-thirty, I was massaging my neck and contemplating going home. At least my allergy symptoms had subsided, and my appetite had returned. Thai-to-Go was sounding good. At a rap on my door, I looked up to see Helena standing there, briefcase in hand. “Ready to call it a day?” she asked.
“Almost,” I said, surprised by her uncharacteristic little visit. “After I retrieve a few jobs I sent to the laser printer.”
“Anything I need to take home?”
I was dying for her to read the memo I’d written on my ideas
for updating the magazine cover, but I didn’t want to seem too eager. “Nothing that can’t wait until Monday.”
“Fine.” Helena hesitated, then said, “I stopped by to say thank you, Kenzie, and well done.”
I blinked. Helena had said “please” on Monday, and was now playing loose with “thank you”?
“You’re welcome, Helena. What did I do?”
“Perhaps you should tell me. I just got off the phone with Dr. Long.”
Panic blipped in my chest. “You did?”
“Yes. He said he had originally decided against letting us use one of the photographs we took for the cover, but that you had changed his mind.”
“I did?”
“Apparently so. You must tell me what you did to make such an impression on the man. He seemed to have enjoyed his trip very much. In fact, he said that he felt as if he had left something of himself behind.”
I glanced toward my bag where the “something” was tucked away and smirked inwardly over Sam’s wicked sense of humor. Still, it was nice of him to make me look good in my boss’s eyes—no doubt to soften his brush-off.
I smiled at my boss. “I’m glad you’ll have the cover you wanted, Helena.”
“Yes,” she said in a faraway voice. “It will help.”
“It will help what?”
But instead of answering, she turned to leave. “Have a nice weekend, Kenzie.”
6
“WOW,” Jacki said.
“Double wow,” Denise said.
We looked at Cindy, who was silent.
“I think she’s speechless,” Jacki said.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Cindy murmured, mesmerized.
I stared at the impressive homemade dildo, which was situated in the middle of my kitchen table on the closest thing I could find to a pedestal—an overturned silver candy dish. The girls and I sat around the table, eating the Hershey’s Kisses that had once been in the candy dish and drinking merlot.
“I have to hand it to you, Kenzie,” Jacki said. “You know how to pick a one-night stand.”
“And to think he’s a doctor to boot,” Denise said dreamily.
“And he’s a hero,” Jacki added.
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