“I have to get back to the center,” she said, standing. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Anytime, friend.”
She hesitated, unsure whether to bring up her mom’s matchmaking but thinking it prudent in case Kushi misconstrued this meeting. “Just so you know, I’m going to tell Mom we met up to get her off my back. So if she tells your gran and they book the wedding reception hall, don’t freak out.”
He chuckled and stood. “So you’re using me as your dating beard. Nice.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’ll play along, but you know giving your mom a hint of anything between us is going to encourage her.”
Samira sighed. “Maybe, or I’m hoping she’ll back off with the nightly phone calls where she extols your virtues at great length.”
“I am a pretty good catch.” He squared his shoulders in a mock superhero pose that had her laughing.
“Then why are you single?”
The amusement in his eyes faded, and he masked it with an exaggerated eye roll. “Because I haven’t met the right one, of course.”
He sent her a pointed glare, and she held up her hands. “Don’t look at me. I’m all wrong for you.”
“Pity. Just imagine, we could’ve had a merging of medical minds.” He winked. “And a merging of other parts—”
“Stop right there, mister. Being friends means no lame-ass flirting, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted. “And for the record, I’m not interested in you as more than a friend either, but it’s fun to wind you up.”
“Idiot,” she muttered, softening it with a touch on his arm. “Thanks again.”
“Anytime.”
She watched him stride away, wending his way through Southbank’s lunchtime crowds, relieved they’d established a friendship and craving Rory more than ever.
Eighteen
After coffee with Manny, Samira didn’t head back to the health center as planned to catch up on paperwork. Instead, she sought the sanctity of her apartment, where she pondered her irrational urge to call Rory while trying to get patient files in order.
Bizarre that she felt disloyal after spending thirty minutes with Manny, and while there was absolutely nothing between them and she’d reiterated that, she still felt like she’d cheated somehow. Totally idiotic.
That was one of the things she’d never been able to fathom about Avi; how he could leave their bed in the morning and go directly to that teenager’s place on his way to work. She hadn’t wanted to know any of the gory details of his affair, but he’d been almost gleeful when he’d told her the news of his impending fatherhood and that he was leaving her for a nineteen-year-old. Bastard.
She’d been gutted by his cheating and distraught their marriage had ended so soon. It may have taken her a long time to get over it, but Avi had done her a favor. Not being able to give him a baby he so desperately wanted would’ve ultimately caused a breakdown in their marriage. If he couldn’t wait eighteen months for her to fall pregnant before sticking it to another woman, their marriage would’ve been peppered with infidelities, and she would’ve hated that.
She’d been young and impressionable and hopeful back then. At thirty-seven, she was older and wiser and wouldn’t put up with crap from a guy.
As much as the news of Avi expecting his second child had affected her when she’d found out, she wondered why the long gap between kids. His eldest would be . . . what? Thirteen or fourteen by now? She wouldn’t wish reproductive challenges on any couple, but maybe karma had caught up with her philandering ex and baby number two might not have been so easy to conceive?
Hating that she’d allowed thoughts of her ex to intrude, she refocused on her work. However, after staring aimlessly at a patient file for ten minutes, she gave up and shut down her laptop. She knew what would help this strange unease plaguing her.
Seeing Rory.
He made her feel carefree in a way she hadn’t experienced for a long time, and right now she could do with some of that. She hoped their second date would be sooner rather than later. She picked up her cell and fired off a text.
MY SCHEDULE OPENED UP.
I’M HOME. U FREE?
She just wanted to spend some time with him, but her text sounded like an invitation for a booty call. Not such a bad idea, but she’d never done anything so brazen.
When his response pinged a moment later, she jumped.
B THERE @3
Glancing at the time in the corner of her cell, she noted she had twenty-five minutes to wait. After firing off a quick GR8, she headed for the shower, where she lathered off her busy morning, shaved her legs, and slathered on body lotion before slipping into a strapless cotton sundress as the buzzer rang.
After instructing downstairs security to bring him up, she paced a few feet, nerves making her tingle with anticipation. She didn’t do this, invite guys she’d barely started dating up to her apartment during the day knowing it would end in sex. She didn’t lust much as a rule, discounting her crushes on Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston. But there was a world of difference between fantasizing about unattainable movie stars and having a walking, talking fantasy that knew how to pleasure her exactly right.
A throb between her legs alerted her to why she’d done this. It had only been two days since she’d seen Rory, but she missed him. And she wanted him. Real bad.
A soft knock sounded at her door, and she padded toward it, inhaling and exhaling with every step. When she opened the door, her breath whooshed out of her lungs. Rory. Wearing a tight black T-shirt, black jeans, and a sexy smile that indicated he knew exactly why she’d asked him over.
With a nod of thanks to the security guard, she opened the door wider and waited until Rory had entered before slamming the door and whirling on him.
“Is this what I think it is?” His bold gaze raked over her, and she felt it like a physical touch, as if he’d caressed every inch of exposed skin. “A g-good old-fashioned booty call?”
Looked like she wasn’t the only nervous one, and in response she took his hand and led him to the bedroom, anticipation thrumming through her veins.
“Technically, it’s our second date, but hey, booty call works for me too,” she murmured, letting out a little squeal as he nipped at her neck and palmed her ass.
She wanted this. Wanted him.
All afternoon.
* * *
* * *
As Rory lay flat on his back, his hands behind his head, staring at Samira’s bland beige ceiling, he wished he could de-stress with mind-blowing sex all the time.