Page 22 of Breaking the Ice

Oh God, she was a wreck even before she got there!

Seriously, a night being critically examined by someone whose sole job it was to create beauty was suddenly very daunting. But hewasin her demographic. He was a forty-five-year-old professional man and that was all that mattered.

The bell interrupted her thoughts and she looked up from the counter to find Nick strolling back through the door looking a helluva lot less tense than when he’d departed.

“How was physio?”

“Excellent,” he proclaimed with a smile.

Okay, definitelylesstense. “You’re in a better mood.”

“Yeah.” He grimaced as he approached. “Sorry about that. Cabin fever I think. I’m not really used to being cooped up indoors. If I get like that again order me out for a walk.”

Samantha quirked an eyebrow. How the hell was he going to be by September if this was how he acted after a few weeks? “I promise to frog-march you out at gunpoint if necessary.”

He laughed. “Deal. So? What’s up?”

Samantha was going to ask him how he knew anything wasupbut she supposed she had been frowning when he walked in and, even after such a short acquaintance, Nick could read her so well. Better than any of her boyfriends ever had. Hell, she’d been with Gary for a year and he’d been totally clueless when it came to her moods.

“I’m a bit nervous about tonight,” she admitted as she swiveled slightly on the stool. “I can’t even decide what to wear.”

“Sam.” He sighed heavily. “I’ll let you in on a secret. Men don’t care what women wear. Men are just pleased that you like them enough to go out with them.”

Okay, sure…whatever.“They must want their dates to be presentable, surely?”

“No.” He shook his head. “They just want them to put out.”

“Nick.” The man was totally exasperating sometimes. “He’s a plastic surgeon. I’m betting he’s gonna care.”

“Alright.” He took a deep breath like the last thing he wanted to discuss was her clothing but he would suffer through it. Which she appreciated. “Have you got an outfit in mind?”

“I have some nice, tailored pants with a retro vibe.” Her ass looked okay in them too.

He shook his head emphatically. “Nope.”

“I have heaps of power suits?” And jackets covered a multitude of sins.

“Jesus, Sam, you’re trying to make your eggs happy, not balance the books.”

Samantha glared at him. Really, was there a need to be sarcastic? She took a breath and tried again. “I have this little black dress. It’s not new but it is a classic cut.”

“Well why didn’t you say so? It sounds perfect.”

“It’s a little clingy.” But… black was slimming, right?

“Yeah… you should definitely go for the clingy look.”

Samantha looked down her body then back at Nick, about to protest, but he had a strange expression on his face that made her tummy all loopy and she didn’t want to go there. “Okay, thanks.” She stood and stretched a little to ease a kink in her back, noting that his gaze dropped briefly to her midriff before returning to her face. “If you don’t need me anymore I’ll finish for the day.”

“What about condoms?”

Samantha blinked at the question he’d just blurted. “Sorry?”

“Condoms,” he said with a nod, his voice firmer. “You know. Just in case. Be prepared.”

“Nick… I’m going on a date. I do not plan on having sex with the guy.”

“But what if he’s the one? What if he wants to come to the rescue of your eggs and he sweeps you off your feet and you just can’t say no?”

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