Page 74 of Ten Day Affair
“I’ll run numbers. But if you want a system like ours to bite, you’ll need to make your move before the board finalizes the vote. Once the concierge is public, it’s radioactive for us.”
“Understood.”
I end the call and stare at the laptop again. My inbox is full of projections that assume I’ll stick to the plan. But for the first time, I’m starting to wonder what it would mean if I didn’t.
When I leave Palm Beach in four days, it is unlikely I'll ever see Sam Taylor again. Normally, that would be enough for me to know that in business, someone usually gets hurt, and I'm not responsible for anyone but myself.
But even still, there is something about this one that is nagging at me.
SEVENTEEN
Sam
I hack into the mango like it personally offended me. Three quick slices, and juice splatters across the counter of the staff kitchenette at the hospital during my break.
"Whoa there, Dexter." Kip slides in next to me, reaching for a leftover watermelon cube.
"Is that fruit a stand-in for someone's head?"
"I'm fine." The knife comes down hard on the cutting board again. Not fine. So very not fine.
The memory of Cole's arms wrapped around me last night surges back, how perfectly I fit against him, how natural it felt to fall asleep with his heartbeat against my back.
"Yeah, I can see that.” Kip leans against the counter, snagging another piece of fruit.
My knife pauses mid-slice. "I just need sleep."
"Not sex?" His eyebrows shoot up.
"Not everything is about sex, Neuhaus," I mutter, dumping the fruit chunks into the blender with enough force to make the whole contraption wobble.
He laughs, that annoying chuckle that says he sees right through me. "Who said they're mutually exclusive?"
Heat crawls up my neck. Last night barrels through my mental barricades, and suddenly, I can feel Cole’s fingers on my skin, his mouth at my ear as he whispered, 'Stay tonight.'
“Oh my god,” Kip says, eyes widening with glee. “You’re suffering from too-much-sex sleep deprivation.”
“Seriously, what is wrong with you? I’m still a resident. Poor eating habits and chronic exhaustion are just my baseline.” I grab a napkin and toss it at him.
"It's the hot board guy, isn't it?"
"Don't you have to kiss up to Grimaldi or something?" I slam the blender lid down harder than necessary.
"Not until nine." He leans closer, lowering his voice.
"Bummer."
"So was it good? On a scale from 'mediocre appendectomy' to 'flawless valve replacement'—"
"I'm not discussing this with you." I hit the blend button, drowning him out with mechanical whirring.
But the truth pulses beneath my skin. It wasn't just good, it was terrifying. Because somewhere between the scorching sex and falling asleep in his arms, something shifted. We weren't just two people hooking up for a short time.
Well, maybe we are. But the connection that is growing between us is so much more intense than that. And when it's time for him to leave, it won't be as easy as I keep telling myself it will be.
My phone moves on the counter as a message comes in. The blender stops, and Kip plucks it up before I can grab it.
"Ooh, is it him? Did he?—"
