How to Score by Robin Wells

Author:Robin Wells [WELLS, ROBIN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC027020
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2009-05-30T20:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

So how are things going?” her coach asked Thursday evening.

“Not great.” Sammi twirled the cord of her bedroom phone, a reproduction of a 1930s boudoir model. “I haven’t heard from Chase since we went out to dinner last week.”

“Tell me what happened.”

As she paced her bedroom, Sammi relayed all the details, including the kiss, Joe’s attack, and the laughter. “And then he left, and I haven’t heard from him since.” She stretched out on her bed. “I guess he’s not all that interested.”

“If he weren’t interested, he wouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Maybe it was a pity kiss.”

“Did it feel like a pity kiss?”

Just thinking about it made her warm and tingly. She smiled up at the ceiling. “No.”

“So—how did it feel?”

“Hot. Really, really hot.” So hot it was a wonder there weren’t scorch marks on the sofa. She rolled over on her belly. “But that’s just my perspective.”

“If you thought it was hot, I’m sure he thought so, too.”

“Maybe my hot is someone else’s tepid.”

“You sound pretty hot.”

So do you. Sexual tension burned through the phone line, throwing her off guard. What was going on? She’d always been a one-man woman. How could she be drawn to her life coach at the same time she was so attracted to Chase?

“I don’t think you can tell that over the phone.” She sat up and swung her legs to the floor. “Anyway, apparently I scared him off.”

“Maybe his job took him out of town.”

“Phones work out of town.”

“Well, some guys just don’t like to talk on the phone.”

She stood up and straightened a print of Jackson Pollock’s Moon-Woman on her bedroom wall. “He talked on the phone for more than half an hour the night he got that concussion,” she reminded him.

“I thought you said he was talking to his partner.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”

“Maybe he hates to talk on the phone, but he has to do it for work, so he avoids it during his spare time.”

Sammi frowned. Luke seemed to be going out of his way to excuse Chase’s lack of communication. “I don’t think so. And even if that were the case—which I sincerely doubt—if he really liked me, he’d suck it up and call.” She walked to her vanity table and sat down on the satin stool. “I think I must not measure up to his criteria for sore pig surgery.”

“His what?”

“He has this whole list of stuff he’s looking for in a woman, and when I talked to his partner’s wife yesterday, she told me he calls it his sore pig surgery. It’s some sort of code or something.”

On the other end of the phone, Chase was seized by a sudden, violent cough attack. She was about to ask if he was okay when he finally cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he said, his voice ragged.

“You really need to see someone about that cold of yours,” she told him. “It’s gone on way too long.”

“Yeah. I might do that.” He cleared his throat again. “Why, um, were you

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