Even though he’d begged off early from his date because of fatigue, he had to admit he wasn’t all that tired anymore. He supposed he could use the company. “All right. But only if you have pictures of this ’98 fiasco to prove it.”
“Don’t push your luck, buddy.” But she was smiling, her eyes glinting mischievously as she opened the door wider for him.
He stepped inside, curious to see what kind of decorating minimalist Benny Sorensen would have. Her hardwood floors were maple honey in tone, like his, but there was a cozier feel to her place that was due only in part to the fact that it was a fraction of the size of his own place. She definitely liked color, which was thrown in small amounts through the kitchen and front room thanks to a few pillows and pieces of art on the walls. And, of course, that bright cherry-red couch centered in front of her television and the floral-upholstered chair next to it.
Interesting.
She took her seat at the corner of the couch, and he joined her on the opposite end, declining the flowery chair.
“Sorry, did you want something to drink? I have wine and soda. Water?”
“I’m good.” He crossed his leg, hooking his ankle over his knee and looked around again. Next to him on the end table was a photo that he picked up.
“That was taken this past spring at my brother Dominic’s wedding in Puerto Vallarta,” she explained as he studied it.
He’d spotted the bride and groom right away, of course, the couple striking with his dark hair and her long red locks. An older couple he assumed were Benny’s parents stood on one side of them, as well as another taller guy with an overly serious face. Three kids were sprinkled in the front, while Benny and two other women stood on the other side of the couple, one a sister, he guessed, from the long dark hair and dark eyes similar to their mother, and the other a reddish blonde with a beaming grin.
But it was Benny he was studying now. Dressed in a formfitting turquoise dress that, even from the camera’s distance, enhanced the prettiness of her eyes, she was one of the shortest in the pictures, along with her mother. Her hair was pulled back, of course, and aside from a flush of excitement on her face, it was bare of any enhancement.
She looked…happy. It made him want to know what she’d been thinking in that moment, what happened just after that photo was taken. Had she danced with any particular person? Laughed and let herself enjoy the moment?
“Interestingly enough,” she continued, “the tall brooding guy there? My oldest brother, Cruz, had just the night before gotten secretly married to the maid of honor, the strawberry blonde. Of course it wasn’t legal, but at the time, he didn’t know that.” She nodded to another photo on the other side of the couch by her. “In fact, they made it official just a few weeks ago and are now enjoying their honeymoon on a repeat road trip across Mexico.”
“And here I thought you were allergic to things like heels and slinky dresses.”
She groaned. “I wasn’t really given much choice. Don’t get me wrong, Kate was hardly a bridezilla or anything, but my mother and my sister, Daisy, pretty much forced me to dress up at threat of personal harm.”
He put the photo back, the image of her sexy figure burned permanently in his brain. He cleared his throat and nodded back to the television. “So what is the idea of the show?”
Benny explained the concept, and soon enough, the homeowner demonstrated his OCD qualities and sent the guy, in the course of a week, about thirty emails detailing what he wanted done, not to mention daily inspections. Henry knew clients like that, but fortunately, they were few and far between, leaving the creative side of things to him and the team. He told Benny about the one who’d insisted his team have at least four storyboards to show them at their first meeting compared to the usual one or two.
“I don’t know how you do it.
I wouldn’t be able to play nice. Thank heavens four-year-olds are easily appeased with Popsicles.”
The show picked up again, and they watched it with little quips here and there, both enjoying a good laugh when the homeowner discovered a nest of rats in the walls. It was close to eleven when Henry finally stood.
“Thanks for the enlightened evening. But I have an early morning, so I should go. You’re going to have to give me a reveal of the complete look some time soon. And let me know how it goes with Dr. Seeley tomorrow.”
But as he walked back to his place, the thought of Dr. Seeley sitting on Benny’s couch, talking renovations, and sharing worst-patients-of-the-day stories kind of annoyed him. Which was pretty ridiculous. He and Benny had become…friends. And this was the whole reason they’d set this all in place.
Good friends. At that thought, he smiled. Already looking forward to their next encounter.
Chapter Eight
Benny was outside an examining room the next morning reading the chart of her fourth patient when she heard the low timbre of Luke’s voice coming from around the corner. Normally, she’d hightail it the other way, but this time she made herself take a deep breath and wait.
After all, she’d spent an extra torturous hour this morning blowing out her hair and applying makeup as Katrina had instructed, to look her best for this moment. Nervously, she smoothed one hand down over the cloying white top and short, flirty skirt she’d taken another half hour agonizing over, determined not to embarrass herself today.
Okay. All good. Game time.
Benny looked back down at the chart, pretending to be absorbed in reading about her patient’s reported arm rash when she saw Luke arriving from the corner of her eye.
“Dr. Sorensen?” he asked, sounding uncertain, and she looked up, feigning surprise. As if she hadn’t known he was coming.
Only Luke’s light hazel eyes hadn’t yet met her own, his gaze still perusing her from her toes up, and she tamped down the nausea and terror she felt. It wasn’t as if she was wearing anything overly revealing, but the skirt was short enough to show off her legs and the blouse tight enough to show what she’d been hiding under oversize shirts and jackets for so long—breasts.
“Wow. You look so…different. I mean—great. Not that—I mean. How are you doing?” he finished lamely and this time met her eyes, looking the tiniest bit flustered.