Page 58 of Love Me Sweet

He called Fern and spoke with her for a long time.

“What’s the matter?” Sylvie asked, setting a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

Though he’d begun to pace, he abruptly dropped down on the sofa and blew out a harsh breath. “One of my patients back in Boston isn’t doing well.”

It was ridiculous, he told himself, to be so upset. Mrs. Whitaker was receiving the best medical treatment. She’d also lived almost nine decades on earth.

“She was my first patient when I started my concierge practice.” He smiled, suddenly recalling how she’d told all her friends having such a wonderful—and handsome—doctor was well worth the monthly fee. “She wielded a lot of influence in Boston. I owe a lot of my success to her.”

Sylvie sat beside him on the sofa, their shoulders touching. “You care about her.”

“Of course, I do,” Andrew asserted. “She’s my patient.”

“You care about her,” Sylvie repeated.

He leaned his head back against the soft leather. “I do.”

With gentle, soothing fingers, she pushed a lock of hair back from his face. “That’s why you’re such a good doctor. You really care.”

Andrew said nothing, reveling in the sweet touch and the lilt of her voice.

“I think you need a distraction, something to make you forget your troubles for a few hours.”

“We were going to watch a movie.” Even as he said the words, Andrew knew the action flick they’d planned to watch was unlikely to hold his attention. Still, it was worth a try.

“I wasn’t thinking of a movie.”

Something about the sultry edge to her voice had him turning his head.

“Put your arm around me.”

It was an easy order. He looped his arm around her shoulders. When she snuggled close, he felt some of the tension ease from his body.

“Did you ever make out with a girl on the sofa when you were growing up?”

“Sure,” he said, intrigued by the direction the conversation had taken. “Make-out sessions are practically a teenage rite of passage.”

“I never did.”

“You’re kidding me.” Even as he spoke, his fingers began playing with her hair.

“I’ve told you my background.” She gazed up at him through lowered lashes. “I was in foster homes. Most of them were fairly strict.”

His lips curved slightly. “What made you think of youthful indiscretions?”

“You.”

Andrew wasn’t sure if it was the glass of wine he’d had with dinner or simple fatigue, but he was having difficulty following this conversation. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re wearing jeans.”

He glanced down. It was strange how he’d quickly grown so comfortable being casual. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You look incredibly sexy in denim.”

For a second he thought she was joking until he saw the heat in her eyes.

“You’ll look incredibly sexy out of those jeans, too.” She trailed a finger down his thigh.

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