Chapter Twenty-Four

The rest of the month and early March go well, almost too uneventfully.

On the personal front, I’m at Luke’s rental more than my own place. Well. I only go home to grab fresh clothes or electronics. Still, I continue to have my girls’ Mexican Monday dinners—Jan, Michelle and I are big believers of maintaining our friendship, even if a couple of us are busy with men. The kind of support you get from your girlfriends is different from what you get from boyfriends, and it’s important to have both.

Work is pretty demanding, made more so because I’m totally sleep-deprived these days. Luke’s the reason, of course. I don’t suffer from insomnia—at all—but he’s been keeping me up late. Sometimes he wakes me up early. Not that I’m complaining too much.

It shocks me to admit it, but it’s not just sex that’s fun between us. And realizing that surprises me a bit. I don’t think I ever talked to my exes this much. We usually had sex, then I left to sleep in my own bed. But with Luke, it’s so easy for me to talk endlessly about everything.

Traveling—

“One of these days, you should put together a long vacation, at least two weeks, so we can go to Da Nang,” he says over a dinner, showing me his travel photos.

“Da Nang?”

“Vietnam. It’s one of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen in my life.”

It rings a dim bell. “And pho?” Whenever I think Vietnam, I think about the noodle dish. Sort of like China and Peking duck.

“I’ll take you to my favorite pho restaurant there—a tiny hole in the wall run by a hilariously cranky old lady. The food is to die for.”

I grin. “Deal.”

Plans—

“You don’t hate surprises?” I ask, while resting my head on his chest. His heart thumps beneath my ear, the beat steady and comforting.

“Why? Surprises are the best.”

“I suppose you say that because you’re a writer.”

“It’s not just because I’m a writer. But yeah—nobody likes a book without a few surprises.”

I consider. “Fine. I only like them in books.”

“Well, I love them in real life. Meeting you was the best surprise ever.”

The past—

“I quit college once I realized I wanted to be a writer. The money was better spent on travel and reading and working with other authors like me, rather than staying in classes, reading old classics that don’t really resonate with most people anymore.”

“Don’t you want to win awards?” I’m not a writer, but I always felt like every novelist wants to win a big one—like the Nobel Prize in Literature or something.

“Nope. I prefer to be read and enjoyed. And make enough to be comfortable.”

“Yet you bought yourself a Porsche.”

“Hey, everyone has a vice…”

But I can’t do four to five hours of sleep a night for weeks on end. I don’t know how Luke stays fresh. He either doesn’t need much sleep or he naps when I’m at work. Or maybe he has a special slumber gnome who sleeps for him. Regardless—this weekend, I’m getting twenty hours of sleep, non-negotiable. If I have to, I’ll lock myself away at my place.

I nurse my third coffee in the small meeting room. David and Tim are there. Joe from San Mateo has joined us via phone. David and I are trying to tell Tim why he should keep the two features he wants struck from the specs. Joe is sort of neutral, but if we can’t convince Tim, Joe isn’t going to insist on taking on the features.

It takes two hours of fairly intense discussion before Tim gives in. “I see what you’re saying. We still need to adjust the scope by Friday, though.”

“I’ll take care of it,” David says.

“You do that.” Joe hangs up, and Tim grabs his stuff and rushes out to another conference.

“Thanks, Sammi,” David says as we’re leaving the meeting room. His smile is as wide and open as always, and I can’t help but smile back.

“No problem,” I say. “I like what you’re trying to achieve, and I’m glad I was able to help.”

When I return to my desk with my fourth coffee, I spot a glossy gift bag with a label that reads For Sammi. It’s unsigned, but I can tell it’s from Luke.

There’s a single silver box in the bag, and I take it out and study it. Too light and large to be jewelry or an electronic gadget. I shake it, but can’t imagine what it could be. Only thing to do is open it up.

Inside is a beautiful shawl in my favorite shade of pink. There are tiny lavender letters all over the fabric. I squint to read them, wondering if they’re maybe some fancy Italian verse, then give up, since I still have a lot of stuff to do before going home, and I don’t want to work late.

I run my hand over the soft material, then put it around my shoulders. Sweet Darlings Inc. keeps our floor a bit cooler in winter than I’d like because we have so many computers running. And this winter’s been much colder than usual. It’s early March, and I’m still feeling the chill. Thankfully, the shawl keeps me just warm enough, and I can’t help but smile for the rest of the day.

When I walk into Luke’s place, he’s typing away on his laptop at the faux-marble counter in the kitchen. His sleeves are pushed up, revealing the dark hair on his forearms. He looks so adorable with a small frown on his face, a pair of tinted glasses perched on his nose. He said that without them, his eyes become too dry. I’ve never dated a guy with glasses before, but I can see the appeal. Nerdy hotness is uber-sexy.

Since my phone battery’s low, I plug it into a charger and place it next to his on the small table by the outlets. Luke and I have the exact same iPhones in the same black protectors, so I put mine on the right—S comes after L—so I can take the correct unit in the morning.

That done, I wait quietly. I know how annoying it is when people break your focus.

My patience is rewarded when he lifts his head in a few minutes and gives me a smile so radiant I feel like my heart’s glowing.

I skip over to him and sit on his lap. His hands rest around my waist. “Did you have a productive day?” I ask.

“Very,” he says. “You?”

“It was good. Not too much overtime yet.” It’s too early in the development for that. “And thank you for the present. I loved it.”

“My pleasure.” He links his hand with mine and kisses it. “I always thought pink would look great on you, but it’s even better than I imagined.”

“Really?”

“It’s your favorite color, isn’t it? Women look their best when they wear something they love.”

I smile at him. I do look fabulous in pink, if I may say so, even though I haven’t worn the shade in ages. “What does the shawl say?”

“It’s some scenes from my next release.”

I gasp. “Do you have a magnifying glass?”

He shakes his head.

“I need to get a magnifying glass ASAP.” I scramble to get off his lap. Normally I order online, but that’d take too long, even with express shipping. I’m going to have to brave the crowd and hit an actual physical store.

Laughing softly, he tightens his hands around me. “You aren’t going anywhere. I’m going to give you an early review copy as soon as it’s ready.”

“Really?” I flutter my eyelashes at him. “How much time do I have to read and review it?”

“You don’t. It’s a girlfriend copy.”

I grin like an idiot. For some reason, I really like hearing him call me girlfriend.

“But in return, I want you to grab the box of toys.”

I blink. “What box of toys?”

“The one from the hotel…?”

“Oh.” I pull my lips in for a moment. “I, um, don’t have it anymore.”

“What?”

“I gave it to Jan before she and Matt went on their vacation.”

He looks at me like I’ve sprouted a new head. In pink. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because the toys were jinxed.”

“You gave jinxed sex toys to your best friend.”

“They aren’t jinxed with her. She got engaged. But if you want, I can order a new box.”

“A non-Sammi-jinxed set…?”

I nod, dead serious. “Uh-huh.”

He studies me, then bursts out laughing. “I can never predict what’s going to come out of your mouth. I wish I could see into your mind sometimes.”

“It’s very rational and neat in here.”

“And you hate surprises.”

“Yes.”

He pulls the shawl off my shoulders. “Like this gift.”

“Gifts are exempt,” I say primly.

“Like this kiss.” He places his lips on my neck.

“That’s also exempt. I have a short—but very utilitarian—exemption list.”

He slips a hand under my shirt. “I have a very long and generous exemption list. It’s tattooed on my—”

“No! I need to get some sleep tonight. So no keeping me up.”

He pulls back and studies my face. “You do look a little tired.”

“Very tired.” I yawn to make the point. “It’s makeup that’s making it only look like ‘a little.’”

“We can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t.” I shiver, suddenly feeling a little bit chilled where he and I aren’t touching, and pull the shawl closer. I sniffle.

“Are you getting sick?”

“No. I’m healthy as a horse. I almost never get sick. And I got the flu shot this year.”

He looks at me skeptically. “Okay, sleep. But let’s get you fed first.”

“Deal.”