Page 39 of Paging Dr. Summers

“Thank you,” he crooned, making it so easy to believehe was all that and a bag of chips. I couldn’t deny it. He was beautiful. “So, tell me, did you finish readingTo Love a Rogue Pirate?”

“Oh, yeah.” My knees got weak just thinking about it. “That Josie Cavanaugh sure knows her stuff. And,” I said excitedly, “I actually met the man narrating her new series, Rogues and Roses. His name is Simon, and he and his wife Jules and their family live a few houses down from me. She is seriously the cutest pregnant lady, and their sons speak in British accents. Which is adorable. They were so nice when I delivered cookies to them.”

In fact, besides the Harringtons, they alone had kindly accepted my neighborly gesture. Although Mr. Harrington’s reaction to our meeting still bothered me. But I figured Logan was right—my TMI syndrome had probably freaked him out.

“Did you finish the book?” I asked.

We’d talked about it a few times on the phone. Did I think it was a little odd he was reading it? Sure. Not because men couldn’t read romance novels—it just added to my feeling that Sebastian was too polished. He’d said he was reading it because all the women in the ER were obsessed with the book, and he wanted to have camaraderie with his coworkers. Which was nice, but it was also a little too much in my opinion.

When I’d asked Logan if he was going to read it for the same reasons, his response had been,“Only if someone threatens to pull all my nails out one by one if I don’t.”Apparently, he was more of a military fiction and nonfiction sort of guy. It didn’t surprise me.

“I have a few chapters left.” Sebastian leaned against the railing, facing me. The wind playfully tousled his pompadour, which only enhanced his appeal. He was such a James Spader, and he knew it. That was the difference between him and Logan. Logan either had no clue, or he’d forgotten, how attractive he was. I had to think it was the latter.

“And what do you think?” I asked.

“Hmm. I think I’d like to be a pirate,” he said seductively.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I played along.

“Do you think I would make a good rogue pirate?”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

His cocky grin said he agreed with my assessment. I almost askedhim what his pirate name would be, just like I had asked Logan, but it felt wrong. Like cheating, which was absurd. Maybe I just liked Logan’s answers and how good he was at the silly games I played.

Or maybe I just liked Logan. A lot.

A server with a rolling cart of appetizers walked by, offering an assortment of hors d’oeuvres, from smoked salmon canapés to prosciutto-wrapped melon balls.Fancy food,Mom would have called it. She was more of a Tab and licorice gal. The fanciest thing we used to do was make root beer floats in wineglasses. Once again, I felt out of place.

“You have to try these.” Sebastian picked up a canapé made with cucumber and fed it to me like he’d practiced the move. Maybe he had.

I took a bite of the salmon-and-cream-cheese concoction. My palate said it was amazing but not to get used to it.

“Yummy,” I said after I swallowed.

Sebastian leaned in closer and gently brushed his thumb across my lower lip. “You got a little cream cheese there.”

Oh, he was good at this. Well, sort of.

“Embarrassing. Thank you.” I waited for some type of physiological response to his touch. I could guarantee that had it been Logan, my body would have gone into hyper-drive. It’s not like I wasn’t physically attracted to Sebastian—I definitely was. But something didn’t quite click.

Sebastian’s amber eyes bore intently into my own. I think he expected me to swoon, but my lack of reaction seemed to confuse him, and I almost giggled. Believe me, it confused me too. All our phone calls and text messages—and let’s not forget his undeniable hotness—had led me to believe we were going to hit it off.

I wasn’t sure what to do, so I grabbed one of the melon ball appetizers and shoved it into his mouth. “Try this.”

I’d caught him so off guard, I think he accidentally inhaled some of it, making him cough and splutter.

Oh, my gosh, I’d made my date choke. I patted his back. “Are you okay?”

He nodded but gripped the handrail, trying to act like nothing was wrong, but he was red in the face as he tried to chew and swallowthe rest of the prosciutto-covered melon. Once he got it down and could breathe normally, he stood as tall as he could.

“I don’t think I’m making that good of an impression on our first date.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I assured him.

“What do you say, then?”

That was a good question.

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