CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sarah
After a cheap, five-dollar cab ride over to Liquid—I’m far too exhausted to drive and don’t want to walk it alone this late at night—I enter the dimly lit sushi restaurant. Spotting the back of Jack’s dark head above the high-backed chair he’s sitting in, I rush over and place my hands over his eyes.
“Hey, handsome. Guess who’s wearing sexy lace pantieeeees?” I draw out the last word mischievously.
“Well, I sure as hell hope it’s you and not him, Sunshine.” This remark comes from a voice behind me. Jack’s voice.
I repeat. That sounded from behind me.
Jerking my hands away from the man’s eyes—the man who is decidedly not Jack—I find him turning to me with an avid interest in his gaze.
“I’d definitely be interested in hearing more about those panties.” The man grins at me with what have to be the most stereotypical nicotine-yellowed teeth.
“Mmm, yeah.” I back away slowly. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“I can be whoever—”
“No.” I hold up a hand, interrupting his nonsense. “You actually can’t. Trust me.” Forcing an overly bright smile, I wish him a good night before spinning around. Jack’s watching me, looking mighty entertained by my little mistaken identity episode.
“Ready to eat?” I ask nonchalantly, as though I’m not secretly wishing the floor would open and swallow me this instant.
His grin widens. “Definitely.” With a hand at the small of my back, he leads me to the correct booth. “Then you can tell me more about these panties of yours, you little dirty talker, you.”
“Ha-ha.” I roll my eyes. “A true gentleman wouldn’t draw more attention to a lady’s embarrassing moment.”
We take our seats on opposite sides of the booth, and Jack’s lip quirks upward, his eyes gleaming with humor. “Ah, but it was a classic moment, Sunshine.” He tips his head to the side. “Reminds me of one of those chocolates you like with the messages.
“Embrace the shenanigans.”
* * *
Jack stares at me, features contorted in disgust and shock. “She had a bottle stuck where?”
I’ve been regaling him with some crazy hospital stories and patients I’ve had to put under so the doctors could undo their often awkward and disturbing mishaps.
After I finish chewing, I answer, leaning across the table of our booth, and lower my voice. “In her ass. And”—I gesture with my chopsticks—“she claimed she was gardening, kneeled down to pick up weeds, and didn’t see the bottle. Then whoops!” I break off with a laugh. “The bottle made its way where it shouldn’t have.”
Jack shakes his head slowly. “That doesn’t even seem plausible.”
I raise a shoulder in a half shrug. “Trust me; they don’t care if it’s plausible or not. They simply refuse to give the honest story. Happens all the time.”
“It seriously happens that often?”
“Oh, yes.” I release a sigh. “There was a guy who came in with his penis stuck inside a shampoo bottle.”
Jack’s hand stills, chopsticks halting in midair with a piece of sushi squeezed between. “Inside?”
“Yes. The part where the top screws on. Inside that hole.”
He frowns. “But that’s really small—”
“Exactly.” I finish my last piece of sushi before continuing. “It’s a really small space. And somehow he fit inside.” I take a sip of my water. “Awkward for the guy because everyone had to witness it and,” I emphasize while I raise my eyebrows meaningfully, “that meant his stuff was small enough to fit inside it.”
“How did you…?” Jack trails off in question.
“Well, it turns out that part of the plastic bottle is so hard and difficult to cut. We couldn’t manage to do anything with him being a nervous wreck and squirming, so we sedated him and carefully cut it off him.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “Wow. I really can’t wrap my mind around that.”
With a laugh, I lean back in my seat. “The things that come through the doors of that hospital…” I chuckle.
Taking in the sight of the man sitting across from me in the booth, I allow my eyes to drift over him appreciatively. He’s wearing a dark gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and cuffed just below his elbows.
In a suit, Jack’s hot as hell. Out of a suit jacket, though, with those shirt sleeves rolled up for my viewing pleasure, I have a front row seat to forearm porn. Because, let me tell you, those veins and corded muscles are magnificent.
“Pulling a late night, too?” I nod toward him.
With a weary sigh, he runs a hand down his face. “I’ve been approached by some new companies.” His lips twist. “It’s great—don’t get me wrong—but I feel like I’m fast approaching the point when I’ll have to turn away potential clients.” His blue eyes are tired, lacking the light and luster I’m used to seeing.
“Hey.” I reach across the table to cover his hand with mine. “It’s not the end of the world if you have to turn some people away. You’re only one man. Don’t spread yourself too thin.”
Jack nods, and we fall silent for a moment before I notice his eyes drifting over me. He turns his hand over and links our fingers together.
“You look great.”
Let’s get something straight here. I’m clad in jeans and a sweater, light makeup, and hair now air dried from my earlier shower. I do not look great.
Passable for a female? Sure. Great? Not a chance.
Flashing him a dubious look, I raise one eyebrow. “Don’t lie. I look like crap.”
Jack gives our joined hands a little tug before raising them to his lips. Holding my gaze, he presses a soft kiss to my hand. “I never lie, Sunshine.”
His nickname for me, when he utters it in that husky, intimate way, just does something. Besides dampen my panties, of course. This is what happens when one is a horndog of epic proportions.
Okay, so that’s not the only thing that happens. I feel my stomach give a little, teeny tiny flip, which is…nice, I guess. But I don’t do the emotions that go along with stomach flips. Stomach flips mean feelings, and feelings like that lead to relationships. And that is not my territory.
Ick. Simply thinking of the dreaded “R” word makes me feel like I’m one Adele song away from overeating myself to death on Dunkin’ Donuts. Which means it’s time to change the subject.
“So about my panties,” I begin, giving him a saucy wink.
He grins at me. “Do tell.”
“Well, I know it’s tough to tell beneath this elegant exterior”—I wave a hand, in a sarcastic gesture, toward my attire—“but I pulled out all the stops with my undergarments in hopes…” I trail off, grinning.
“Why, Sunshine”—his smile widens—“are you hoping to get lucky tonight?”
I let out a long, breathy sigh. “Yep.”
Jack throws his head back on a laugh before pulling out his wallet. “Then let’s head home.”