time to date. Which is why I sent that lovely plastic woman to you. It’s secretly an invitation to a fund-raiser my party is having next week. If I sent you a card, I knew you’d ignore it, but that doll got you on the phone.”
Of course. There was always something behind it. He would’ve ignored an invitation. And he’d ignore this one, too, after he hid it away where Peggy wouldn’t find it and faint. “I’ll mail a check.”
“I don’t want you to mail a check, Brody. I want you to come.”
Oh, yeah, because socializing at a cocktail party with a bunch of strangers was his idea of a good time. He’d jump right on the next train from Boston. Xander knew it, too, so there had to be more to the story than he was telling. “What’s her name?”
“Why would you—?”
“You’re as transparent as Mom.”
Xander sighed heavily into the phone receiver. “Her name is Briana Jessup. Dr. Briana Jessup. I met her a few weeks ago. She’s a plastic surgeon that specializes in reconstructive surgery. She spends several weeks a year in third world countries helping disfigured children.”
Brody listened to his brother talk, but the more words that came out of his mouth, the more irritated he got. “I don’t know which is worse. Thinking you’re fixing me up on a date again or trying to lure me to another doctor.”
“It’s just social,” Xander corrected. “I thought you might be more comfortable with a woman if you knew she had...” His voice trailed away as though he weren’t quite sure how to say it. Xander was always on a mission to find the right way to say things. It made him a great politician. But dealing with him as a brother could be frustrating when everything he said was polished to a point of near insincerity.
“Seen worse?” Brody suggested.
“You know what I mean, man. Don’t get offended.”
Brody took a sip of his beer. He understood what his brother was doing. It wasn’t a bad idea. A woman who had experience with severe injuries like his might not react so negatively to it. She might even touch him, although it might be more for professional curiosity than attraction. It was certainly a better choice than the last woman Xander tried to set him up with. “I’m not offended. I’m just not interested in starting up something with this doctor of yours.”
And he wasn’t. Maybe if Xander had asked him a week ago. But now, his mind was overrun with thoughts of one particular woman touching him. A sunny blonde with luscious curves and an affinity for pink.
“Then are you still upset about the thing with Laura? It’s been three years.”
Brody chuckled into the phone. “Why would I still be upset about Laura? Just because you set me up with a woman that pretended to like me long enough to steal my personal information and charge a hundred-thousand dollars on my credit cards...? I mean, after three years that would be petty of me.”
Xander sighed. “You know I’m sorry about that. She seemed like she really liked you, and I hate that she stole from you. But this other lady is different. I think you’d really like her.”
“I’m too preoccupied for something like that right now. I have my mind on...other things.”
“Are you seeing someone?” Xander asked, his voice laced with an edge of incredulity.
“No,” Brody said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But you’re interested in someone, aren’t you?”
That, Brody couldn’t argue with. He was interested. He didn’t know if that would make any difference in the end, but he was. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam and what it would feel like to touch her.
“I suppose you could say that....”
* * *
Sam slammed back another shot of espresso from the coffee shop in the lobby, but she wasn’t sure it would help. The first four hadn’t. She was still exhausted. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Her mind kept spinning with the previous day’s developments.
She had started Wednesday irritated with her boss. Brody was demanding, rude and thoughtless of others. By the time she went home, she was intrigued by him. More than that—aroused by him. When she wasn’t lying in bed fantasizing about touching him again, she was plagued with questions.
What happened to him? How long had he been like that? How could he live his life separated from other people? Wasn’t he lonely? Why was he so unpleasant?
The “fix-it gene” in Sam was alight with the need to get her hands on Brody’s life and put it right. It seemed a shame to her that he was hiding. He was a smart, successful and handsome man. He shouldn’t let his accident keep him from living a full life.
Sam eyed the door to his office. She wanted to march in there, grab him by the hand and drag him out into the sunlight. It would be good for him, she was certain.
Then she saw it. The door was ever so slightly ajar. It hadn’t quite latched earlier. That was odd. Brody was always very meticulous about shutting and locking the door. His mind must be on other things.
Or maybe it was a subtle invitation. A subconscious slip. Sam wasn’t a big believer in accidents. Everything happened for a reason. What if Brody wanted a fuller, more open life, but didn’t know where to start? She could help him. Maybe he knew that. Could this be his way of reaching out?
“Sam, could you get me that new distribution proposal?” Brody’s voice crackled over the speakerphone.
“Yes, sir.”
Sam grabbed the file out of her inbox and let her gaze wander between the silver drawer and the unlatched door. She wasn’t sure if Brody left it open on purpose, but she decided to take the opportunity fate, or Brody, had provided.
She quickly reached down for her purse and pulled out her compact. Her makeup was good. Her blond curls were swept back into a messy bun today. Her lip gloss was still shiny. She looked great.
Getting up from her seat, she tucked the file under her arm and gently tugged down at the hem of her sweater dress. She smoothed over her wide, patent leather belt before reaching out and grasping the doorknob. She didn’t have to turn it. The light pressure was enough to unlatch it completely and the door swung open.
Sam poked her head into the dark room, expecting Brody to start yelling at her at any moment, but there was nothing. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed a pinball machine to her left. Beside it was a Track and Field arcade game. Both of them flashed and blinked, lighting the corner of the dim room. Beyond that, she spied a seating area with plush, leather couches. A small kitchenette with a sink and a refrigerator.
In the corner were a universal weights machine and a treadmill. That explained those arms. She half expected to see a bed, but that was the only thing missing. He had his own little world behind these doors.
Taking a step inside, she found his desk to the right. It was a large U-shaped configuration with multiple monitors and computers. The first two screens she looked at displayed the feed from the lobby surveillance cameras. He had a good view of her at her desk, despite the grainy black-and-white feed. He was currently facing the other direction or he would’ve
