Page 20 of Lovesick

“Very funny. More like I reached my limit of playing monk.”

“Answer me this,” Nick said, taking a sip of his beer when the bartender set down another round. “Would you have reacted the same with any other woman? If you found another woman on that couch in her office and she kissed you, say that waitress over there, would your libido have skyrocketed?”

Max glanced at the waitress. Objectively, she was pretty. Young, healthy-looking with a pleasant smile. But he felt no pull, no compulsion to say hello let alone kiss her, or touch her, hold her or . . . any of those things. He shrugged.

“I rest my case,” Nick said.

“This is why you’re not a lawyer.”

“Or a doctor, but I still know enough to say you’re lovesick.”

Max shook his head and felt lighter. Nick had always been the right person to unburden his problems to, always lightened up his mood. Louise felt like that kind of person too. He reached for a handful of peanuts and wished he was sitting in front of the fire on the couch with Louise sipping whiskey with her head resting on his shoulder.

Geez. Maybe he was lovesick. Smitten. Done in by chemistry.

“What about Tim?”

“What about him?” Nick said. “You don’t need to involve him in your affair. I have complete confidence in your ability to be discreet.”

Max shrugged. “This is me scoffing.” He stood, deciding he was more tired than hungry.. “Time to salvage some sleep. Need to get to work bright and early.”

“Those paper cuts don’t bandage themselves.” Nick grinned.

Max punched his friend’s shoulder, shrugged into his jacket, and left. As he walked outside into the cool early spring night, resigned to a short night’s sleep, his phone rang.

Panic flashed through him as he fumbled his phone from his pocket. Something must be wrong with Tim. He punched the phone on without pausing to see who it was. It had to be the sitter. Who else would be calling him at one a.m.?

“What is it?”

“Max? It’s me. Louise.”

Instead of slowing down his wild heartbeat, the sound of her voice sent him sideways. He could swear his heart bounced against his clavicle. Stopping on the sidewalk, he took a gulp of the seasoned city air.

“Louise.” He breathed her name, closed his eyes, felt her softness, smelled her special scent, the scent of her passion, as if he never left her. A horn beeped. A couple shuffled by him, brushing his arm. “You’re not calling to fire me, are you?”

She laughed her low sexy laugh. He was finding everything about her sexy. That was the problem. He wondered if it was him or her?

“Depends on what the job is. If it’s a full-time lover, you’re hired.” She paused. His heart continued its wild pounding and he might even be sweating now. This was fast and hard, but hell if he could stop it. Truth, he didn’t want to stop it. Not now.

“Maybe that was too much—look, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I called. I wanted to hear your voice. And before I realized it, my fingers were tapping your number into the phone.”

“Don’t worry. You’ve been on my mind. The only thing on my mind. You have quicker phone fingers than I do is all.”

“Gallant. It seems that’s your signature. If I was forced to describe you in one word, gallant would be on the short list. You seem to always be rescuing me from myself, either when I’m sick with the flu or just . . . lovesick.”

He laughed. “Lovesick? Is that what you call it? Seems to be a popular notion. I guess it fits, now that you mention it. I do feel feverish.”

“Any time you need me, I have the cure.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Love.” He listened to her sleepy laugh and realized she was in bed, pictured her the way he’d left her, naked and tangled in the sheets, hair mussed, soft and pink . . . This train of thought wasn’t smart, not while he stood out on the street in public, at any rate.

“You caught me outside,” he said. “I stopped in at a local grill to have a nightcap with my friend Nick. I was on my way home.” His train of thought ran out of track. Ran into the same wall, the one with Louise’s image.

“You should get going. I should let you go home. Get some sleep.” The warmth in her voice felt good. No disappointment or sadness. He let the silence go on a beat, without awkwardness.

Then she cleared her throat and spoke in a bright voice, “But it’s your loss—I was ready to offer you phone sex. Of course I understand that might be awkward in the street, so I won’t push it. I withdraw the offer.”

He laughed. “Can I take a rain check?” He was serious even if he wasn’t sure she was. God help him.