When Love Calls
Authors: Unknown
When Love Calls
By Anja Pruitt
When Love Calls
Copyright © 2014 Anja Pruitt
All Rights Reserved.
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This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.
Prologue
“Damn it!!” After spending 30 minutes scouring the office for my keys, there I stood—face pressed against the glass of my silver Lexus—watching the missing keys dangle in the ignition. I swear it was almost like they were taunting me. “Awesome.” I groaned as I pulled the AAA card from my wallet.
“We should have someone there within the hour Ms. Porter,” the service rep said. Tonight was
supposed
to be my first date with Joshua. I was looking forward a bit of fun and maybe a summer fling. So far the day was turning out to be a bust and I was slowly conceding to the fact that I could be spending a rather dry evening curled up with my TV remote.
Settling down to wait, I pulled my satin shirt from inside my pencil skirt and hoped the June heat wave would be merciful enough to send even a subtle breeze. I could already feel the small of my back beginning to dampen and knew the volume of my hair was multiplying by the minute. “I know I had a ponytail holder in here somewhere.” I mumbled into my handbag. Tucked in the corner—along with some loose change and an unopened condom—was the evasive elastic band. I snatched my hair up into a haphazard bun to avoid ending up looking like the Cowardly Lion in the Wizard of Oz.
According to my watch it was already six o’clock and I still had a 45 minute drive across town. Not to mention the fact that I also needed to shower and change before I could consider myself suitable to be seen in public, in a final attempt to salvage my evening and my potential “tune-up,” I reached again for my phone and called Josh.
“
You have reached the voicemail of Joshua Griffin…
”
As much as I hated voicemail, I managed to stifle my agitation long enough to leave a decent message. “Josh, it’s Erin. Something unexpected has come up, so I’ll need you to push our dinner plans back from 7 to 8. Thanks.”
I knew it sounded like more of a command than a request. I could live with that, and if Josh was fortunate enough to stick around for any significant period of time, he’d learn to live with it too.
In my life, everything and everyone fell into two categories. Business or personal. It was a pretty short list on either side. On one hand, there was my job. I had become one of the youngest chief residents of pediatric surgery in the country and for that fact alone, I was respected. At work, when I spoke, people listened. I liked that. In fact, my career success had been the result of years of feeding my inner control freak. I made shit happen and got things done. Unfortunately, my counterpart, I suppose she could be called my alter-ego, wouldn’t say the same with regards to my personal life.
Also on the business side of my list, right beneath career was relationships. Well, more like just plain
relations.
Men for me definitely fit into the category of business instead of personal. If I was being honest, I’d probably had more than my share of steamy tryst with meaningless “boy toys” who knew very well how to come when I called and leave when I told them. That was how I liked it and it worked for me.
My personal list consisted of only three people, Angie, Amber and Feliz. They were my friends and my family. They were also my co-workers. Feliz was a physician. Angie and Amber were nurses. These women were the only three people who had even come close to knowing the real me and that, was very deliberately so.
My life felt so much simpler without the complexities of a relationship and up until recently I’d convinced myself that all was as it should be. I figured if it got to the point I could no longer silence that little voice in my head that occasionally whispered to me about babies, I could always head to the sperm bank and make a withdrawal. To me it was actually kind of ironic. Making a withdrawal there actually got you pregnant.
Ha!
Either way, I was fine with things the way they were but for some reason as my thirty-fifth birthday approached, I was beginning to feel like I was too old to be “playing the field” and thought I should try dating someone who at least had some career goals and ambition. Perhaps someone I wouldn’t be hesitant to bring around my friends and their families.
That was almost my exact thought the morning before I met Joshua. I was staring down at my iPhone checking emails when I literally bumped into him. Even now I still smile at the memory.
“Excuse me!” I said as I grabbed his arm gently.
Yeah, those arms could hold me.
I took an extra moment to put my surveying skills to work and appraised everything attached to his semi-flexed bicep. A little over six-feet-tall. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Athletic build.
Nice.
No ring on the left hand.
Very nice.
Goatee.
Meh.
Light blue dress shirt and tan Dockers.
Well, at least he looks professional.
He’d flashed a sideward glance to the place where my fingers rested and said, “You’re okay. Look, no harm done.” He nodded toward the tray wrapped in his exceptionally large hands. All the items had slid back to rest against his chest, but nothing had spilled over. “You must really be in a hurry Dr…Porter.” He’d said as he glanced at the name tag clipped above my left breast.
“Actually, I am. I just came to grab something quick before making rounds.” I watched as his eyes moved toward the arm where my hand was still resting.
“Well, you’ve grabbed me, so now what?” He said as he flashed a charmingly crooked grin.
My face flushed as I snatched back my hand. “I am
so
sorry! First I nearly run you over.
Then
I grope you! You have to let me make it up to you Mr…”
“Griffin, but please call me Josh. We’ve grown so close already. Now, exactly
how
do you propose to make it up to me?”
Hmm, a sense of humor. Ok.
“Let me pay for your lunch.” I said through my laugh.
“Well, unfortunately for you, I’ve already paid for my lunch but I’ll call all this even if you give me your number.” Josh said with a wink.
“Are you for real?”
He’s a little flirt too.
As he stood there awaiting my response, I realized he was serious.
Ten minutes into our conversation I learned that he was visiting his niece. She’d had her tonsils removed and sent him downstairs to search for “better” ice cream. It wasn’t until then that we both noticed what had become a melted, soupy mess on the tray.
“Ok, so you
have
to let me buy your niece another bowl of ice cream. That’s the least I can do.” I reasoned.
“No, the
least
you can do is give me your number, but the ice cream could earn you some bonus points.” Again he revealed that sexy-assed smile and I compromised by taking his number and buying another bowl of ice cream.
As I heard a car approaching I reeled myself back into reality. I turned to examine my reflection, grimacing at the frizzy ringlets on my head and my sweat-streaked face.
I look like I’ve spent 30 minutes in a steam bath.
I continued to swear under my breath as I fussed with my shirt, attempting to tuck it back into my now twisted skirt.
I hadn’t heard him approach, so I was shocked when I noticed the black motorcycle boots stalled in front of me. My hands froze in place as my eyes led me to worn denim jeans that hugged muscular thighs attached to narrow hips punctuated by the obvious outlined potential behind his zipper. Enthralled, I continued my perusal and was treated to what seemed to be a perfectly chiseled chest tautly wrapped in the fabric of a thin cotton t-shirt.
Surely there’s not a face to match the body,
I mused. I was almost too scared to look up. Too scared I would ruin what up to this point had been perfection. An involuntary gasp caught in my throat, as I found an equally delicious mouth parted into a grin, exposing perfect teeth behind full lips. Dark tussled hair framed a face set with almond-shaped, chocolate brown eyes. He towered over me as he extended his hand and asked, “Are you Mrs. Porter?” For a moment, I thought it was odd that he wasn’t in a work shirt, but I overlooked that fact and took another quick perusal of his muscular frame. I could feel the heat rush to my cheeks as I realized I hadn’t responded to his question.
And he caught ogling him.
I cleared my throat and forced myself to find words. “Yes, I’m Ms. Porter.” I reached and met his still extended hand. “Is this the new AAA uniform?”
Hopefully, he didn’t notice my feeble attempt at backpedaling.
To my dismay, he smirked knowingly and answered, “No, this was actually a last minute call. I was getting ready to head home from work when they asked me to swing by here first. I
actually
forgot I had taken it off, but my shirts in the car—I can put it on if it’ll make you more comfortable.”
“Don’t go to any extra trouble on my account,” I replied without thinking and oozing too much flirtation. I was admittedly a flirt. Sometimes I did it intentionally to amuse myself. However, this was not one of those times, and I wanted to melt into the pavement. Thankfully, Tall, Dark and Handsome broke the gaze I couldn’t seem to pull away from and turned his attention to unlocking the door.
“I should have it open in a minute or so.”