Authors: Dianne Venetta

Jennifer's Garden (3 page)

“That’s what they pay me for.” He turned to Jennifer. “What’s your pleasure?”

“I’ll take a white wine spritzer, please.” She preferred red, but tonight was warm; ice-drinks preferable.

“You got it.”

Avoiding his gaze, she ran her hands down the backside of her navy skirt, smoothing material that needed no smoothing. Her white button-down suddenly felt too warm. She wished she had worn a dress like Sam, but coming straight from the hospital, she had no time to change into more suitable attire.

Sam sipped her drink in silence while behind the bar strong, lean arms covered by a sparse layer of sun-bleached hair went to work on the spritzer. Jennifer’s gaze drifted to his chest, noting the top button of his shirt was open, exposing another mass of hair. This section was thicker and darker, more a golden brown than the rest.

“Tasty, isn’t it?”

Feeling the blaze of Sam’s grin, Jennifer swung her head around, the skin of her cheeks flushed hot, like a school girl getting caught looking at dirty magazines. Her throat went dry and she scowled at Sam, daring her to push.

“Here you go.” Splashing in some soda, the man dropped a wedge of lime in and with equal proficiency handed her the glass.

She cleared her throat and managed a proper, “Thank you.” Taking the drink, she stepped away from the bar.

“You’re welcome.” Sable soft eyes closed in. “If there’s anything else I can get for you two ladies, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“We won’t,” Sam assured.

Moving out of hearing range, Jennifer snapped, “How do you do it?”

“What?”

“How do you come-on to complete strangers?”

Sam smirked. “It’s a natural gift.”

“I’m serious.” Her brow furrowed. “Don’t you ever want more?”

“Of course I do. What do you think I was trying for? I’m not interested in stopping at that delightful smile of his—no ma’am. I want more, much more!”

“Stop. You know what I mean.” She glanced around for onlookers. “You’re thirty-seven-years-old, Sam. You’re not getting any younger and despite those ‘tricks’ you think you have in store, there’s a lot you’re missing out on.”

She took a long swallow of the ice-cold martini. “Like you and Aurelio?”

“Yes. Like me and Aurelio.” With a reflexive glance toward the bartender Jennifer continued, her aggravation heating. “We’re getting ready to begin one of the most rewarding chapters of our lives and you should take a page from our storybook for yourself.”

Sam shifted weight to her back heel and cocked her head. “What are you proposing, Jen? That I find myself a wonderful man who can take care of me, add me to his collection of trophies on a shelf and put my libido out to pasture?”

“I’m
suggesting
you find someone to settle down with, someone to love until you’re old and gray, and maybe...” she added, though knew it would receive protest, “someone with whom to have children.”

“Now I know you’ve gone mad.” She eyed the glass in Jennifer’s hand. “I think that gorgeous man spiked your drink.”

Sensitive to prying eyes, Jennifer lowered her voice. “You may change your mind one day.”

“About kids? I think not.” She gave a cursory whip to her head. “I’m a little too fond of my freedom and sanity, thank you very much.”

“Children do not denote insanity, Sam.”

“For some. I know women you’d swear their brains leaked out with their breast milk—a feat that would end my legal career in about the same time it takes a shark to rip through its prey.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “No thank you. I’ve better uses of my time.” Then she turned the spotlight on Jennifer. “And you?”

“Me?”

“You’ve settled for a man who fits your bill of sale, rather than a man who sets fire to your heart.”

“I have not.” Self-conscious of onlookers she whispered, “I love Aurelio and he loves
me
.”

“You may love who he is, but I’m not convinced you love him, you know, the for-better-or-worse kind of love. I think he fits your image of what a good husband’s supposed to look like—which has nothing to do with what actually makes a good husband.” She paused. “And I think you’ve settled.”

“And I think you’re crazy. This,” she scoffed, “from the woman who’s most extensive experience in the mating department comes from a twelve month cohabitation.”

“Jeremy and I were sharing some space. I wasn’t interviewing him for a position as my husband.”

“I’m not
interviewing
anyone.” Jennifer smiled at a couple of women glancing their way, then forced a sip from her wine.

“That’s exactly what you’ve been doing. You have an ideal mate in your head—successful, well-educated, good-looking—and you compare each guy you meet to your concoction of perfect.”

Patience frayed, yet Sam continued, her tone ever-so-polite while dark eyes held sharp and steady. “But no one is perfect, so you make a list of the prospective suitor’s pros and cons, then decide if enough of them fall onto the appropriate side of the T-bar before rendering your final decision.”

“I do not.”

“Yes you do.” She paused again. “Most women do. Forget the fact you’re an accomplished physician in your own right, you’re still out looking for that knight-in-shining-armor fellow to sweep you off your feet and take care of you. You know, big strong man meets small helpless female. Every damn fairy-tale I ever read, the woman looked up to the man.” She tipped up her chin and declared, “Subliminal sabotage, if you ask me.”

“You’re reaching, counselor.”

“I don’t think so.” Sam relaxed into a grin and posed the challenge. “You would no sooner accept a date from the sinfully handsome bartender that plied you with wine than you would a ride home from a stranger.”

“I am not dating a bartender.”

Sam raised her brow and glass in unison. “I rest my case.”

“By the looks of him...” She glanced back in his direction. “He probably spends more time at the beach than he does working.” A little rugged for her taste, he wasn’t bad looking. “How does someone like that support himself?”

“Hey,” Sam knocked back. “I hear bartenders make pretty good money. Unlike you and me, he doesn’t need to slug through long hours to manage the big bucks.”

“Be serious, Sam. Dating a bartender is like asking me to give up filet mignon for hamburger.”

“There’s nothing like an all-American juicy hamburger in my book,” she pumped with a smirk, laughter swamping her eyes. “It’s one of my favorite meals!”

“I prefer steak.”

“You might be surprised.” Sam pulled the sword of olives from their gin bath. “Me, I’d take him solely for his looks.” Plucking one off the end with her teeth she chewed, her eyes dancing in delight.

Jennifer’s gaze hardened. “I don’t date men simply because they look good. I want a man with whom I can stand shoulder to shoulder, see eye to eye. A man I can respect.” She stole another peek at the happy-go-lucky fellow dispensing drinks to a couple of guests. Animated, he conversed with them like they were old friends, knew each other from way back.

She turned a shoulder. “I’m a doctor, for heaven’s sake. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. My life has direction, purpose. I’d last two seconds with a man like that, at most.”

“It would probably prove to be the hottest two seconds of your adult life!”

“Would you stop.” Jennifer admonished. She scanned the immediate vicinity, certain someone had overheard. “You’re supposed to be helping me tonight, not antagonizing.”

Like a flash of steel, Sam cut the humor. Grizzly turned doe as she reached across the divide, her tone rendered tender. “Look. I’m not trying to embarrass you. I’m simply trying to point out that beneath the surface of your calm exterior exists a mountain of passion, churning like a volcano, dormant in a sea of control.”

“What exactly do you have against Aurelio, Sam? What has the man done that you dislike him so?”

Chapter Three

“He is a wonderful man,” Jennifer defended. “He’s kind and loving, intelligent and yes, he’s successful—
very
—for which there’s not a thing to be ashamed.”

Sam drew a sip of gin and regarded her pal with a weighty stare. “You got me there...”

“Then what,” she demanded. “What is wrong with him?”

“Jennifer.”

She turned.

“Hey, is everything all right?” Michael’s physician assistant appeared by her side. She narrowed her gaze. “You seem upset.”

Jennifer's pulse jumped.
How long had she been standing there
? “No, no, I’m fine.”

The woman rubbed a hand up and down Jennifer’s arm, as though she knew better. “It’s okay. I understand.” She flicked a glance toward Sam and said, “I just wanted to say hello and see how you were coming along.”

Jennifer stepped back, uncomfortable with the close contact. “I appreciate that. Things are well.” She gestured toward Sam. “This is my friend Sam. Sam Rawlings. Sam, this is Carly Tucker. Michael’s P.A.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Sam replied.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything...” She returned her full attention to Jennifer. “But I didn’t want to miss you.”

“No, you’re fine. You didn’t interrupt anything.”

Sam raised a brow at the lie as she sipped from her drink.

“We were merely catching up.”

“Well, good.” She lingered, creating an awkward silence. “Okay, so maybe we can talk later?” She nodded, encouraging Jennifer to agree.

“That would be nice.” Carly was familiar with her situation. It was kind of her to make an effort.

She smiled. “I’ll go on and let you two get back to your discussion.”

While it was the
last
thing Jennifer wanted, Carly excused herself before she could stop her.

“So where were we?”

“Nowhere. Forget I asked.”

“Jen.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Aurelio.”

“Except he doesn’t crack lightning through your heart.”

Jennifer stilled.

“Or break waves across your soul. He’s not ocean vast or mountain high.” She sighed. “There’s no intensity to him Jen, no depth.” She paused, a hint of pity entering her eyes. “I’m sorry, but Aurelio is duck-pond still.”

“I don’t need waves, Sam. I’m not like you.” She hated the falter in her voice, the desperation, but she needed to be heard. Sam needed to understand. “You thrive on the highs and lows, but not me. I get enough turmoil on the job, I don’t want it at home, too. My home is my sanctuary, my peace. I need calm waters, not raging.”

“C’mon on, Jen. Storms aren’t necessarily a bad thing.” She leaned closer, but didn’t touch her. No predictable wrap of her arm around the shoulders, no hand to her back. “They’re Mother Nature’s rumbling—a growling need, gathering dark and intense along the horizon.” She motioned to the sky above them, licks of a nearby torch jumping in the reflection of her dark eyes. “She sways and rocks, giving herself to the passionate throes and then explodes, high above the landscape in a spectacular light show, releasing herself in a thunderous downpour, bathing the earth with her riches.”

Indignation refueled as she grasped hold of Sam’s underlying meaning. “Remind me to take my umbrella next time they forecast rain.”

Undaunted, Sam said, “I’m talking about tossing the agenda, Jen. Feel your way through life, like you used to. Embrace the highs and lows instead of ‘allotting’ for them.” Sam inched closer, checking for nearby eyes with ears and lowered her voice. “Let go. Let yourself be courted by desire, not success. Toss the schedule into the trash, leave the pen and paper on the desk and follow temptation. Give in.”

“You’re in the wrong courtroom.”

“Am I?”

“Marriage isn’t about sex, it’s about love.”

“Passion.”

“Same thing.”

She cocked her head to one side. “Are they?”

“Yes,” she said, though Sam clearly disagreed. “They are.” Jennifer gave a slight shake to her hair. “You don’t have a case here.”

“I think I do.”

“You don’t. And whether you like it or not, Aurelio and I will be married.”

“It’s too soon.”

She tightened her grip on the glass in hand. “Are you forgetting about my mother?”

With quiet determination, Sam replied, “No.”