When Love Calls

  When Love Calls

  By Anja Pruitt

  When Love Calls

  Copyright © 2014 Anja Pruitt

  All Rights Reserved.

  License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Publisher’s Note:

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  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, resold (as a “used” e-book), stored or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  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.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  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.”

  I looked down at my watch and saw it was now 6:20. I was just contemplating cancelling my date altogether when the handsome strangers said, “There, you’re all set,” and stepped aside as he opened the door.

  “Thank you… What’s your name? You know since you aren’t wearing your work shirt and all.” This time when he smiled his right cheek dimpled.

  “My name is Michael Larza, but I go by Mike…and you’re Erin Porter.” That took me aback for a minute; then I realized he had my information on the invoice. Cute. “So, Mrs. Porter, you’re all set. You’ll get a call about the services received today. I hope you’ll let them know how pleased you were with my work.”

  “It’s Ms... And who said I was pleased?” I asked, giving him an eyebrow raise.

  Mike closed the distance between us and asked, “Are you dissatisfied?” Dear God, this man, is too sexy!! His close proximity made me nervous and aroused. Our electricity was palpable, and it took everything in me to ignore the urge to lick his full lips and get back to business.

  I decided to try and flip the tables a bit. I gave him my best seductive gaze and purred, “I guess my satisfaction depends on how this service call ends.” I bit my lip, still eyeing him intently before I made my request. “Why don’t you give me your card in case I have any other maintenance issues? I’d like to contact you personally.” Mike smiled politely as he pulled a business card from his back pocket. He leaned on the roof of the car and jotted down his information. Surely a man this fine knows when he’s being hit on. I was staggered by his nonchalance at my advance. I involuntarily shifted my weight from one foot to the other as I waited impatiently for his response. Seriously? I searched his face for any indication he might be catching on. He didn’t so much as take a sideward glance in my direction.

  “Please feel free to call me if you need any additional services. I do a bit of independent work on the side and I wrote my personal contact number on the back,” he said handing me the card. I snatched it from him and shoved it in the side-pocket of my Coach bag. I can’t lie; I was pissed. I. Do. Not. Get rejected. Obviously, Magic Mike hadn’t gotten the memo so I let my agitation be known as I proceeded to try to burn a hole in him with my eyes. His response? A slight shrug of indifference before he returned his attention to the clipboard and gathered my member information. Really?! Now I was tapping my foot in agitation as I rattled off my account number.

  Mike glanced up briefly before he turned to leave. “Thanks. Have a good evening!” was the last thing he said to me.

  I stood there fuming—trying to figure out how to assuage my bruised ego. Had that man honestly just ignored my advances and left me standing in the parking lot? Oh hell no! I was contemplating calling him just to let him know how absolutely clueless he was when I flipped the card over and read:

  You come on a little strong, but I still think you’re as sexy as hell! Be sure to call me when if you have any other maintenance issues.

  My face spread into a cheesy grin as I turned the key in the ignition. Hell yeah. I will definitely need some additional services. Soon. The clock on my dashboard now read 6:30. It was going to be a challenge to get home and dressed in time to meet Josh. Again I thought about cancelling our plans but instead I followed my instincts and peeled out of the parking lot. Maybe I can still salvage this evening. I thought as I braved the after-work traffic. Although the day had been pretty crappy until now, it had definitely perked up toward the end. Mike Larza. His name swirled around in my head along with images of his impeccable body and dazzling smile. I felt a familiar ache brewing in the pit of my stomach, but I knew I wasn’t hungry—at least not for anything that food could satisfy.

  I pulled into the driveway a little after 7 and darted toward the front door. I was in such a hurry I nearly breezed by the bouquet of flowers on the porch. Tulips. Sweet. I grabbed the vase and headed toward the stairs as I opened the door. I was clearing the last step when my phone buzzed somewhere in the bottom of my purse. Again I was rifling through my oversized handbag. I’d been meaning to downscale, but it wasn’t high on my list of priorities. Thank God for the light on the phone or I may have never found it. I clicked talk only to find that I’d missed the call. Crap! It was Josh. Since I was going to see him in a few minutes anyway, I figured we could talk then. It couldn’t have been that urgent. He didn’t leave a message.

  I stripped down, hopped in the shower and lathered my slender frame, washing my hair wasn’t in my plans, and I didn’t really have time for it, but thanks to standing for an hour in heat the that felt like the inside of a brick oven, I was left with
no choice. I shampooed my wavy locks and saturated them with leave-in conditioner hoping to stave off frizz at least until the date was over. Five minutes into raking through my hair with a comb I conceded to the fact that there wasn’t possibly enough time for me to tame the mangled mess. Ok, messy bun it is. I grabbed my ponytail holder off the sink, brushed my hair up into a neat ponytail and wrapped the loose ends until they formed what actually turned out to be a decent twist on top of my head. The stray ringlets that framed my face and caressed the nape of my neck dressed the style up a bit. There. I smiled in the mirror. Now it looks like this dishevelment was supposed to happen.

  Deep breaths-- inhaling the scent of vanilla served as brief aroma therapy while I rubbed lotion into my tanned skin. A glass of wine was what I really needed to take the edge off. Between Mr. AAA and the after-work traffic, I was feeling pretty tense. Yep, sexual frustration and bumper-to-bumper traffic had made me one uptight girl. Since I’d already told myself I wasn’t going to be sleeping with Josh, I knew cocktails would definitely be in order, but they’d have to wait since I was already running behind.

  I slid on my black lace boy shorts and a little black Donna Karan dress I’d been dying to wear. The sheer side panels and hemline made it revealing in all the right places. The haltered, sleeveless dress left some things to the imagination but hugged my curves in a way that threatened to reveal all my secrets. Perfect. I assessed in my full-length mirror. A quick glance at my phone told me I needed to pick up the pace. It was 7:50 and I still hadn’t put on any make-up, jewelry or shoes. I grabbed an onyx earring and necklace set and headed to my closet. I managed to clasp the necklace and hook the earrings before I heard the faint sound of the doorbell. I ran to my vanity, dabbed on cherry-tinted gloss and lined both my eyes. Thank God, I don’t need a lot of make-up. With my Michael Kors clutch and black platform sling-back Louboutin’s in one hand and the bouquet of flowers in the other. I dashed toward the stairs as the bell chimed again. I slipped on the shoes and took a deep breath as I smoothed my hands over my dress. When I opened the door, Josh was prepped to ring the bell for the third time. “You’re not anxious are you?” I flashed him a flirtatious grin.