by Hailey North
“That doesn’t qualify as bait and switch?”
Flynn shrugged. “Want to keep chasing every guy away on the first or second date or do you want to give someone a chance to get to know you?”
“A valid point,” Sami said. “What is the additional advice you would like to offer me?”
“Talky-talky,” Flynn said, but he smiled. “Make sure That Guy knows you have a date tonight with someone else.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Guys want what they can’t get too easily,” Flynn said. “Besides, I have a performer I’m checking out at eight. I’d like your opinion.”
“I see,” Sami said, but in a voice that said she didn’t.
“Sami, you’ve got a good ear,” Flynn said, even as he was kicking himself mentally. “I’d appreciate your coming with me.”
“What you are actually attempting to do,” she said, “is to manipulate my sailing date with Chase so that if all goes well, I will be forced to end early, thereby causing him to pursue me because he will be under the impression he’d better act fast because I am one hot commodity.”
“Bingo,” Flynn said. Plus, dammit, he wanted Sami to share the evening with him. He respected her musical taste and valued her observations. Practical stuff.
She shrugged and started to smile. “I concede to your experience, Flynn ‘Playboy’ Lawrence,” she said.
“I’ll be here to collect you at 7:30,” Flynn said. Whistling, he waved so long, found his keys and strolled out the door. The protesting barks of the Corgi erupted. Flynn kept on walking, faster, to his rental car. He didn’t want to be anywhere in sight of Sami when she donned her bikini and tripped off to meet the man he couldn’t help but think of as That Guy.
Sami couldn’t believe the difference between the afternoon sailing with Chase and a couple he’d also invited as contrasted to the torturous dinner the evening before. She had relaxed and enjoyed the wind and the water and admired Chase and the other man’s boat-handling skills. The expression on Chase’s chiseled face and the shock in his gorgeous blue eyes when Sami said she couldn’t go to dinner because she had another date was priceless. He’d promptly asked her out later in the week, his first night off.
She couldn’t wait to tell Flynn he was practically a genius.
She’d kept her response to no more than a simple “’Kay.” And she’d managed to widen her eyes and produce a come-hither smile. Sami opened the door of the garage apartment, allowed the dogs to dash down the stairs, and rewarded herself with a high-five.
Dating could be fun.
With a smile on her face, she headed down the hallway, shrugging out of her sun cover-up and untying her bikini top strings as she walked. She’d made it to the doorway of the bedroom when she heard Ruby barking her head off. Darn it. She had less than an hour till Flynn was picking her up, and after the sun and the wind she needed a shower.
Sami scooted across the bedroom and out onto the balcony. She called Ruby, who ran around the garage, followed by the other dogs.
And by Flynn.
Sami waved and called hello, thinking he’d be pleased with her progress. But he looked anything but pleased, standing below the balcony, dark glasses covering his eyes, a grim line to his mouth.
“I’ll be ready soon,” she said. “Come on up.”
“I’ll wait outside,” he said.
She shrugged. And that’s when she realized her bikini top had slipped free and her breasts were open to the air. And to Flynn’s view. “Oh, my,” she said, grabbing at the scant fabric and the string ties. She backed from the balcony into her bedroom and walked straight to the shower, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment. She showered quickly, hoping Flynn didn’t think she’d knowingly stood there covered only in her short shorts.
In record time she was standing in the walk-in closet, gazing at the choices open to her. Nothing, but nothing worked for going out to a music club.
Except for the one dress she had no business slipping off the hanger.
And onto her body, smoothing the silky fabric over her waist and hips. Surely Jonni Scott wouldn’t mind. Just one more night.
Flynn had gotten nothing done that afternoon. Disgusted with his lack of concentration, he took himself off to the pool. Even a punishing series of laps did nothing to banish the image of Sami in a skimpy bikini making goo-goo eyes at some hotshot doctor.
Doctor! What better profession for a prospective husband for Sami?
Flynn left the pool behind, dried off, and gazed around, for the first time, to see who else was poolside. Action. That’s what he needed.
At the far end of the pool a young couple lay entwined in one another’s arms. To their right, two men lay stretched on the chaises, reading. A child’s voice called from the changing area. A pretty blonde in a one piece Speedo appeared in pursuit of the now-running kid. Flynn turned away. Single or not, the kid was a no-deal.
He dropped his towel on a chaise, tugged a shirt on and walked slowly to the exit. In his suite, which seemed to echo with emptiness now that Sami and the dogs weren’t there with him, he ordered a burger from room service and forced himself to open a folder of contracts.
Sunlight poured in. He glared at the light. Too bad it was a perfect day for sailing. Sunny, a nice breeze, not too hot. His burger arrived. Flynn took a bite and pushed it away. Too bad the dogs weren’t with him. They’d gobble it up.
He turned to page two of the first contract.
He didn’t have a dog.
He picked the burger up again, forced another bite. He had work to do ahead of his morning meeting.
Cameron’s next film was going to be shot on location in Nashville. The role was a bit of a risk for Cam, given the main character of Oscar-winning screenwriter Beetle Leonard’s film was a country music star drowning in sex, drugs and alcohol. Beetle’s wife, Amity, had gotten to be friends with Jonni in New Orleans, and she’d asked Jonni if she thought Cameron would like to see the script.
Flynn turned a page.
Frowned.
Maybe he had been against the film because the set-up was too much the way Cameron used to live. Back in their party days.
Flynn took another bite. Not so much the drugs, but definitely the sex and alcohol. And then Cameron had met Jonni and that was the end of that.
Runaway Heart wended its way through a hell of a lot of turmoil, but finally arrived at a happy ending. Maybe that’s why Cameron had agreed to do the film. His buddy and Jonni believed in happy endings.
For everyone.
Flynn finished the burger.
Some days it did seem to him that everyone was one half of a couple.
He pushed the empty plate away and turned the page.
Better to be alone and open to possibility.
Better to be free and able to push on down the road.
He checked his watch, wondering if That Guy had asked Sami out for dinner yet. Because of course he would. What guy could resist Sami Pepper in a bikini? If Sami did as Flynn had instructed her, That Guy would be drooling.
Flynn jumped up from his chair, almost sending the room service tray flying. It was too damn quiet in the suite. Usually he found it conducive to work. Today, no. He’d shower and take his paperwork downstairs to the lobby. Coffee and noise. Distractions. That’s what he needed.
By seven, he was finished with his work and in his rental car heading for Belle Meade. He whistled as he drove, happy to be prepared for his morning meeting tomorrow. And even happier to be driving to pick up Sami.
All three dogs bounded up to greet him. Flynn grinned and managed to pet each of them, despite Ruby circling his ankles with excited yelping. He glanced up and saw Sami popping her head out of the door.
“I’ll be right down,” she said, “but you may need to walk up to get the dogs inside.”
Flynn did as suggested, stepping into the living room as Sami appeared from the other side. She glided toward him, a vision in a low-cut, slinky black dress.
&nbs
p; “Hello, Flynn,” she said, her voice bubbly. “I’ve been waiting for you to arrive so I can tell you what a genius you are.”
Her eyes sparkled. Her skin glowed. She smiled all over. Flynn stood in the middle of the room, studying her, unable to keep from wondering why she looked so damn happy. Had she and That Guy…
“I did everything you told me to,” Sami said. “Chase was practically eating out of my hand.” She laughed. “And the other guy seemed to like me, too, though I didn’t try to get him to notice me since he was with a woman.” She tipped her head to one side. “He did ask for my number, though.”
“Is that right?” Flynn stuck his hands in his pockets.
Sami nodded. “And Chase asked me to dinner tonight.” She flashed a demure look at him. “But I did just as you instructed.”
“And?”
“You were right.” Sami played with the ends of her hair. “We’re having dinner later this week. His first evening off.”
“Well, good. Good for you.” Flynn cleared his throat. Tried to sound pleased.
“And I’ve promised myself not to conduct any research on sailing between now and then,” Sami said.
If there’d been another couple on the boat, she and That Guy couldn’t have gotten too physical, Flynn concluded. “You look extra beautiful tonight,” he said.
Sami fluttered her lashes. Said nothing.
Flynn laughed. “I’ve created a monster.”
She smiled. “It’s fun to get outside of me.”
Flynn held out a hand. “Don’t get too far away from yourself, Sweet Stuff,” he said, tucking her hand in his. “Ready?”
Sami’s first instinct was to correct Flynn, to remind him that her name was not ‘Sweet Stuff.’ She opened her mouth then closed her lips. “’Kay,” she said, giving him a wide-eyed smile and letting her hand rest in his as they walked to the door.
“Practicing on me?” Flynn said.
She merely smiled again and walked down the steps to his car. She even waited while he opened the door before she slid into the seat. She’d definitely prefer to be behind the wheel, but since he’d invited her, she didn’t fuss over that point.
Flynn headed toward downtown. He seemed preoccupied. Sami glanced over at him, studying his slightly-frowning expression. He hadn’t seemed to notice she wore Jonni’s sleek black dress, which was odd, given how he’d goggled at her the night Jonni had insisted she change into it. “Did you have a difficult afternoon?”
He looked straight ahead. “What makes you ask that?”
She shrugged. The neckline of the dress slipped a bit lower.
Flynn bit his lip.
“My observation of your body language is that you exhibit a degree of tension you did not seem to experience this morning.”
Flynn nodded. “You got that right.”
“I’m sorry for you,” Sami said. She inhaled deeply. “I had such a lovely time out on the sailboat on the lake. I wish everyone could have had a beautiful afternoon.”
“So you like this guy?”
Sami cocked her head to the side, considering Flynn’s question. “Vonnie was correct that Chase and I have similar goals and compatible interests. Despite my knowing nothing about sailing. And he has never taken a philosophy course.”
“Nada on Descartes? Blank page on Locke?”
Sami eyed Flynn. “Do I interpret that comment correctly if I infer that you have studied philosophy?”
He shrugged. “But I don’t own a sailboat.”
Sami considered Flynn’s general attitude. If it were any other man besides the proclaimed playboy, she’d conclude that he was a teeny-weeny bit jealous. But why should Flynn, who had no interest in her as a woman to develop a relationship with, be at all jealous? “Oh, don’t you?” she said.
“No place to stash it where I live.”
“Where do you live?”
“Marina del Rey.”
“Marina?” Sami repeated the word. “Doesn’t that imply a harbor?”
“Very good, Dr. Pepper.” Flynn finally showed a hint of a smile. “How about no time to spend lounging around? And my penthouse serves my needs.”
“No yard? No pets?”
He shook his head and swung down a side street, where he parked the car. “This place is off the beaten path. One of the reasons I like it.” He got out of the car, walked around and opened her door. Holding out a hand, he said, “I do like the way you look in that dress.”
She smiled at him, pleased that he’d finally noticed. “Thank you,” she said.
“It’s the kind of dress that makes you want to peel off the wrapper,” Flynn said. “I guess it makes me cranky that I’m not the guy who gets to do that.”
“Oh,” Sami said, widening her eyes involuntarily. “Well. Oh.”
“Let’s go listen,” Flynn said, pointing to a building on the corner. “Then we can grab a bite and you can give me your thoughts. Sound okay?”
Sami nodded. No wonder he’d been grumpy. She felt like doing a little dance of feminine power, but decided that such a reaction was inappropriate. It wasn’t Flynn she was trying to attract. It was Chase, with all his husbandly qualities.
Chase, who according to Vonnie, valued marriage. It was a miracle he hadn’t been nabbed by some lucky woman, her friend had told her, but Chase had been determined to establish himself professionally before committing to a bride. Flynn opened the door to the music club and motioned Sami in.
A throaty voice that reminded Sami of Janis Joplin’s recordings filled the room, dominating the various conversations going on in the crowded space. A purple-haired woman in a flowing caftan sat on a stool on a small stage, accompanying her soulful voice on an acoustic guitar. Flynn threaded a path through the clusters of standing listeners and found them a tiny bar table.
He disappeared and returned with two drinks. Sami eyed hers, thinking of the strong martinis she’d downed the night before. Flynn must have sensed her reaction as he leaned close and whispered, “Club soda.”
She smiled her thanks and let herself fall under the spell the woman’s voice and lyrics were weaving. The crowd must have felt it, too, as most of the voices hushed. The singer did three more songs, then stood, clasped her hands over her heart and bowed before she walked off to the back. Applause broke out.
Flynn was grinning. “Yeah, baby,” he said.
“Who is she?” Sami said, leaning close, as a babble of voices had burst out after the woman left the stage.
“Violet Abernathy.” He winced. “Terrible name, but it’s the one she was born with and from what I know of her, she’s not going to change it.”
“The purple hair is to match her name?”
He shrugged. “Tonight purple. Tomorrow, who knows? That’s Violet. Unpredictable genius. Part of her charm.”
Sami realized her immediate reaction to his comment was a thrum of jealousy. Flynn hadn’t called her a genius, ever. Yet she was. She had the MENSA membership to prove it. “I gather that you’ve heard her before?”
Flynn nodded and sipped his club soda. “She’s a friend of someone I helped out once upon a time.”
“Oh,” Sami said, for once, lacking a sentence to string together.
“We’ve never been lovers,” Flynn said.
“That is certainly none of my business,” Sami said, glad the dim lighting hid the flush on her cheeks.
“Admit it, Sweet Stuff, you were wondering.” Flynn smiled and patted the back of her hand. “You have such soft skin.”
“Thank you,” Sami said, deciding to ignore his first comment.
“I never mix business with pleasure,” he said. “Business is long term. Sex is for living in the moment.”
Sami frowned. “For every bad example you can cite of an unhappy relationship, I can name at least a dozen good stories of long-term, loving couples.”
“Save your breath, Dr. Pepper,” he said, but added a smile. “Here comes Violet. I left my card with the bartender and asked him to point out
our table.”
Lugging a guitar case, the singer made her way slowly in their direction. She was stopped and congratulated by many of the audience members. She nodded and moved on, with scarcely a hint of a smile. Her eyes were dark and somber, Sami realized as Violet stopped at their table.
Flynn stood and the two of them bussed cheeks. Flynn introduced them and offered Violet his seat.
“I’ll stand,” she said.
“You have an unusual voice,” Sami said.
Violet nodded.
“I would offer the observation that your music emanates from pain,” Sami said. “Experienced, not imagined.”
Violet nodded again. She turned to Flynn. “You should keep this one.”
“Can I get you a drink?” Flynn said.
Another performer had walked on to the small stage. No one in the audience seemed to be paying attention to him. He strummed a few chords, smiled nervously, and cleared his throat.
“Vodka. Straight,” Violet said.
Flynn headed to the bar.
“Fuckheads should pay attention. How would they like to be sitting up there and be ignored?”
Sami’s jaw dropped. Of course, the young woman was correct.
“Here, hold this,” Violet said and shoved her guitar case toward Sami. She then walked straight to the stage and grabbed the microphone. In her throaty voice, she got the crowd’s attention, had the young man introduce himself, asked him what he was singing first and stayed there, singing along with him.
The crowd shut up and listened.
Flynn returned with Violet’s drink. “That’s one hell of a woman,” he said. “Nothing is going to stop her.”
“And you’re going to represent her?” Sami wrinkled her brow. “Musicians often don’t make much money, do they?”
“Movies,” Flynn said. “Cameron’s next film is set in the country music world. He’ll be on location here. I need the perfect up-and-coming musician to play his love interest. And I don’t want a name actress. I want a singer who can rip Cam’s guts out.”
Violet had turned the mike over to the man and was making her way back to them.
