The Procedure (6 page)

“You know your facts about me; you don’t know
me,
Samantha.”

My face burned hotly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“That didn’t come out the right way.” He smiled gently. “What I mean is, those facts you know about me, they only make up a small part of me. There is more to my story than what you can find on the Internet. And, you may not know you, but I’m fairly certain sleeping with me probably wouldn’t make you happy. At least, not afterwards anyway. You’d feel crappy about what we’d just did, probably about me, but most definitely about yourself.”

Turning suddenly, he walked behind his desk and sat down. “I couldn’t live with that, and I wouldn’t want you to have to either,” he finished while moving a stack of papers off his desk and folding his arms on the smooth top.

He nodded his head toward the two chairs opposite him and waited for me to take seat. Setting my purse down, I tried not to moan as the expensive leather caressed my ass and the pressure of wearing heels all day was released from my calves and feet.

My movements were slow and drawn out as I wondered who was going to break the silence first. His words were still spinning inside my head as I took precious time making myself as comfortable as I could in the chair.

He was right though. While it was devious to think about sleeping with someone besides my husband, I didn’t think I had the courage to go through with it unless I fell in love with another. But I knew in my gut that I still loved Michael.

As much as I wanted him to just come right out and say it so I didn’t have to ask, I couldn’t be left in suspense any longer. “Last night, you said you changed your mind. Does that mean you’ll do the surgeries?”

“It means I want to help you.”

I frowned. “If you’re not going to do the surgeries, how are you going to help me?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I make for a very bad therapist, but I really do know women. I’ve seen a lot of perfectly attractive woman go through the doors of my mate, Stein. Unless there is something medically preventing a surgeon from doing a procedure, they will never turn away a patient. The number-one cause for a woman to turn to cosmetic surgery is insecurity. It’s sad, but a fact for any plastic surgery.

“Those women, including yourself, just need to be taught and, more importantly, shown that you are each rare and beautiful in your own way. I learned that the hard way and vowed never to touch another woman with a scalpel unless she absolutely needed it.”

His words sparked a flame of curiosity inside of me that quickly became an out-of-control need to know what lesson he was referring to and why it had him disowning his initial practice.

“So you want to help me regain my confidence?” As sweet as that sounded, I wasn’t really sure how that was going to work.

“Yes. You need to be reminded that you’re very much a woman and deserve to be treated as such.”

I shifted nervously in my seat. “Teach me how?”

His smile was teasing and knowing. “Despite what you may have thought of my intentions, I don’t plan to offer you an affair. Now or later.”

That should have calmed my racing heart, but I couldn’t ignore the tiny bit of disappointment. I tried to tell myself it was because I felt rejected, but I knew it was a little more than that. “Okay, so how do you plan to teach me?”

“I want you to spend the next month with me.”

WATCHING THE SURPRISE
brighten her big, brown eyes made my long day seem a little less dreary. Why her husband didn’t do everything in his power to bring her soul to life instead of destroying it was beyond my understanding.

“Are you quite alright?” I asked when two full minutes went by without either of us saying anything.

She blinked rapidly and lowered her head. I realized then that she was laughing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but that sounded a lot like an indecent proposal. I was waiting for you to offer me a million dollars if I agreed.”

“If that’s what it takes.”

That wiped all humor from her expression. “You’re kidding, right?”

“About you spending a month with me, no. The other part, yes.”

I hadn’t been, but if it made her feel better, I would go along with it.

Again, she shifted nervously, something she’d done a lot since she sat down. I wasn’t sure if she realized that she was doing it, but I found it amusing.

“Are you asking me to stay with you for a month?”

I laughed, and she turned a shade of pink. “I assure you I’m not asking you to live with me, but we would be spending a lot of time together. Is that something you’d be comfortable with?”

She seemed to be having an inner battle before her face cleared and her final decision clouded her dark eyes. I realized I’d been holding my breath in anticipation. I hadn’t wanted to admit how much I was hoping she’d say yes.

“Yes,” she said, looking up.

Our eyes clashed. “Yes?”

She nodded firmly. “Yes. What have I got to lose, right? You’ve already turned me down for the surgery.” She ended her sentence with a smirk, trying to make light of the other morning.

Leaning over my desk, I held eye contact with her. “I’ll make you a deal. You spend the time with me and if after the month you don’t feel any differently about your choice to have the surgery,” I took a deep breath, praying in the confidence I held that I could change her mind, “then I’ll do it.”

Sadness darkened her eyes. She looked up at me beneath dark lashes, making me shift in my chair.

“Why are you doing this for me, Roman?”

She stuttered over my name, but she said it with such conviction that I couldn’t lie to her. The truth hurt, and I hadn’t felt the sting of my past in a long time.

“You remind me of someone. Someone I should have done more to help… but I didn’t.”

I could tell she wasn’t sure how to take that, and I was sure she was dying to ask questions. Holding my breath, I hoped she wouldn’t. In the end, she was content with letting me keep my regrets private.

“So when do we start?”

I smiled, pulled open the drawer in front of me, pulled out my prescription pad, and picked up the pen off my desk. Scribbling across the front of it, I ripped the paper free. Before handing it to her, I got up and walked around the desk to sit on the edge next to her.

“Soon, but first, you have to do something for you.”

“For me, but why?”

“Because you deserve it.” I grinned and handed her the paper and a business card. “Remember, doctor’s orders.”

SERENITY SPA & RESORT
.

I held the matte, black card with the two words in blue up in the air and matched the front of it to the sign on the building. It wasn’t what I expected, and I was grateful for that.

When it came to Miami, it was either go big or go home and when you pictured a spa and resort, it was towering levels, pools the size of small countries, marble floors, and stone walls. While Serenity Spa wasn’t exactly the equivalent to Chucky Cheese, it was modest and felt perfectly… serene.

While his procedures were unorthodox, I wasn’t exactly going to complain about Roman’s
doctor’s
orders
.

Walking up to the building, I breathed in deep and the sweet waft of jasmine and lavender instantly calmed my senses. Stepping inside was nice and cool compared to the not-so-nice heat of Miami. Music made up from the sharp keys of a piano and wild nature sounds floated through the reception room, recreating an incredibly realistic ambiance of a secret oasis in the middle of a blazing dessert.

The wall behind the massive cherry desk was made up of a black, coal-colored rock. The sounds of the water rushing over the rocks made the room even more soothing. The floor-to-ceiling rocks and water wall created the coolest indoor waterfall I’d ever seen. Openings on either side of the wall led to the back room.

The sound of birds taking sudden flight from the speakers above had me nearly ducking the same time a petite woman walked around the waterfall and up to the desk. She smiled at me, holding in her laughter.

“Don’t worry, it happens to everyone.” Looking from side to side, she curved a hand around her mouth, leaned in close, and whispered, “I think they do it for security entertainment.”

We both laughed and her easygoing nature radiated off her, melting my embarrassment.

“You’re new,” she said.

“Yes. How did you know?” Did I look that stressed?

“Most of our customers are regulars, so we can always recognize a new face. We like new faces. What time was your appointment, Ms.…?”

She pulled out a clipboard with a list of names filling up the entire page.

I bit the inside of my lip and cringed. “Mrs. Aldridge and I’m sorry. I’m afraid I didn’t make an appointment beforehand.”

“Mrs. Aldridge,” she said in recognition, making a face like she should have known exactly who I was when I walked in the door. “Of course. We’ve been expecting you.”

“You have?” I looked confused, and she laughed.

“Yes. Mr. Blake made sure we were expecting you. If you follow me, Ms. Collette wants to meet you first. She likes to meet all of Mr. Blake’s referrals.”

The way she said referrals made me think she had the wrong idea.

“Oh, no, I’m not… it’s not like that with Roman, I mean, Dr. Blake and me. We’re,” I searched for the right words, “just friends.”

She stopped suddenly and turned on me. “Oh my God, Mrs. Aldridge, I’m sorry. I wasn’t meaning to imply anything.”

Gone was the calm, cool, and collected side of the receptionist as her face flushed with embarrassment and wild eyes flew to the door in front of us and then back to me, silently pleading her apologies.

“Mary?” a muffled voice called from the other side. “Is that you? Why on earth are you trying to communicate with me through the door?” There was a short pause and then the door flew open. “Why am I trying to communicate through the door?”

An older woman, dressed in a silk-and-lace modern pantsuit with a knot of silver hair on the top of her head, stood in the doorway. Her eyes found mine, and she pulled her cashmere sweater closed.

“You must be Mrs. Aldridge.”

“Yes, Ms. Collette, she is.”

The beautifully antique woman before me made me want to deny my married name and turn around and run. Suddenly, I thought I knew why Mary was so afraid I might say something.

I lifted my hand. “Yes, but please, call me…”

“Samantha,” she said with almost no emotion. “A pretty name indeed.”

I swallowed hard. “Yes,” and then my faced burned hotly, “and thank you.” If she turned me away right now, I wouldn’t even blame her. “I feel a bit embarrassed that everyone seems to know who I am, and I don’t know… I mean Roman, Dr. Blake, didn’t mention… anyone. Specific,” I added quickly.

She seemed to be inspecting me. Part of me was tempted to grab Mary by the shoulders and use her as a human shield… but then Ms. Collette did something completely unexpected. She smiled… and I watched while her face transformed.

“Yes, my grandson is a fickle young man like that. But over exaggerative he is not.”

I frowned, confused, and then the first part of what she said registered. “You and Roman… I’m sorry. He didn’t tell me you two were related. Honestly, he didn’t really tell me anything about this place.”

“That doesn’t surprise me one bit,” Mary said. “Mr. Blake and Ms. Collette are modest in their achievements. Ms. Collette owns this entire establishment.”

“Nonsense,” Ms. Collette chided with affection. “I was merely taught it isn’t proper to discuss such things in public.” She was motioning for me to follow her. “Come, come. Thank you, Mary.”

I nearly fell over, trying to catch Mary’s attention before she disappeared back to the front. “Thank you, Mary,” I called after her. When she turned to look at me, I smiled reassuringly.

She almost fell over in relief. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Aldridge.”

“You too.”

I was tempted to mouth if it was okay to follow Collette, but she turned away before I could. Inside Ms. Collette’s office, I was wrapped in complete femininity. Soft colors and frilly décor inspired the room, setting it apart from the serene theme on the other side of the door.

“Mary is a sweet girl, often speaking without thinking, but she means no harm.” Ms. Collette sat down behind her desk.

Suddenly feeling like Ms. Collette had eyes and ears everywhere, I worried about Mary. “She seems very sweet and made me feel right at home here. This is a lovely office by the way. The whole place is amazing. You’ve done a remarkable job with the design.”

“Thank you. So tell me how you met my grandson. You don’t look like you’re one of Stein’s patients.”

I didn’t miss the way she crinkled her nose at Roman’s partner’s name or his choice of practice. Flushing, I wondered how she would feel if she knew that I had practically begged Roman to do the very things she turned her nose up at.

“No, I’m not one of Dr. Stein’s patients.”

“Good.” She fell back against her chair. “He’d be a stupid man to try and mess with a face or body like yours.”

Well played, Roman Blake. Send in your sweet grandmother with compliments and intimidation. Well played, indeed.

“Thanks, ma’am.”

She waved a wrinkled hand in front of her face. “Please, call me Collette.”

I smiled. “You don’t sound…”

“British? I’m not. I was born here in Miami. Roman’s mother, my daughter, met the man she said she was destined to marry during a summer vacation trip to Oxford.”

I could hear it in the way she talked about Roman’s father that he wasn’t exactly Collette’s first choice for her daughter’s happily ever after. “That sounds romantic.”

She smirked. “That’s exactly what Elizabeth said,” she said, sighing.

“You thought it was cliché?”

“Actually, yes, I did. She was too young to give up everything she did for a boy, but she did. Because of that choice, she gave me Roman and Rachel, so I could never be upset with her for that.”

“Roman has a sister? Do she and their parents still live in London?”

Her eyes narrowed curiously. “You really haven’t known Roman very long, have you?”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Not at all, but I’m happy I met him.”

“You know, you just might be exactly what my stubborn grandson needs.”

I flushed. “Oh, no, it’s not like that. I’m…”

“Married? So I’ve heard. Roman also said it wasn’t like that between the two of you, but I know my grandson.” Instead of elaborating, she stared at me intently for a couple of more seconds. “Well,” she finally said. Taking a deep breath, she used the surface of her desk to stand. “I won’t keep you any longer, dear. You didn’t come to my spa to talk to an old woman.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve enjoyed our conversation. Maybe we could have lunch sometime?”

She smiled. “I’d like that. You looked just about as knotted as a raggedy old shoestring when you came in, and I think I might have made it worse.”

We walked to the door of her office together before she stepped in front of me to pull it open.

“I promise that it has nothing to do with you.”

“Well, either way, my staff will make you feel like a brand-new woman. Marcus will take very good care of you.”

It turned out that Collette was not an exaggerator either. Twenty minutes later, I was sprawled, facedown, with only a towel to cover me as Marcus indeed took good care of me.

I spent the first twenty minutes of my massage trying to cover things that I was ashamed of, but once his capable hands released the stress that held my muscles bunched tightly, I no longer cared what he saw or thought.

A deep cleansing facial with botanical herbs and purifying oils took care of months’ worth of dead skin. A mani and pedi made my hands and feet presentable for a night on the town. After a quick, but yummy, lunch, I was ready for my hair appointment.

Four hours of complete pampering, a sassy new haircut, and some highlights later, I was on my way with a promise to have lunch very soon with Collette. I didn’t feel like a completely new woman, but I knew it was a start in the right direction.