Jillian Chantal

This week’s word is arm. What a great word to use in romance novels. What could be better than the hero putting his arm around the heroine? That being said, that’s not what I did in my snippet. *smiles*  – Be sure to check out the other stories here.

The rest of the week passed quickly for Ian. He had several emergencies that required him to admit patients to the hospital which then necessitated consulting with specialists on their behalf. And there was the matter of having to check on them himself by morning and evening rounds.

Before Ian knew it, Friday arrived and he hadn’t called Lanett since he dropped her off at her place. Feeling a bit guilty and more than a little apprehensive, he found her name on the contact list on his phone and pressed the button to connect the call.

It rang four times and Ian decided she must recognize the number and not want to pick up. Sad that she would hold a grudge over the lack of contact, he ended the call and tucked his phone into the chest pocket on his shirt. Tugging off his medical coat and tossing it on the back of the chair he’d just vacated, Ian stepped toward the door to exit his office. The phone in his shirt vibrated against his chest, startling him.

In his haste to snatch it from the pocket to see if it was Lanett, he almost dropped the thing. In his effort to stop it from crashing to the floor, Ian whacked the crap out of his elbow as it hit the side of the wall. He cried out, “Bugger, bugger, bugger.”

Hearing a voice coming from the speaker, Ian placed the receiver to his ear. “Sorry. I hit my arm on the wall.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Well, not that you hurt yourself but that you didn’t call me after all this time just to curse at me.”

Lanett sounded amused but Ian wasn’t quite sure if she was. “No. I didn’t ring you to do that. Thanks for returning the call. I actually owe you an apology.”

“You do?”

“I sure do. I planned to talk to you before now but it’s been a week full of too much work and not enough leisure.”

“It’s all right. I didn’t expect your undying loyalty after one dinner.” She laughed.

Ian was glad she wasn’t mad and apparently not one of those women who demanded way too much attention for someone as dedicated to his work as he. That was the fastest path to a relationship not working in his opinion.

This week we have the February picture prompt. Isn’t it lovely?  Check out the other stories here. 

Out of the car, they strolled to the restaurant and went inside. Lanett looked around in awe at the place. It was so romantic and dark. A perfect place for a tryst. Not that she was there for that purpose. No, not at all. She could tell the heat rose to her face and counted herself lucky that the lighting was so dim there was no way Ian could tell what she was thinking.

Or maybe he could. He reached out at that moment and took her hand. The gesture and the warmth of his touch made her tingle all over.

The hostess came over to seat them and led them to a corner near the back wall. Once they were settled with their coats removed, Ian opened his menu but Lanett ignored hers and leaned forward. “Did you request this table back here when you brought your father?”

“No. I didn’t request it tonight either. Why?” He peered at her over the top of the menu.

“Never mind then.” Her face was hot again.

“No, what?”

“I was thinking it was romantic and a great place to bring a date and then I wanted to laugh because you’d brought your dad here.”

“Only because it’s his kind of restaurant. No other reason—in fact, I had no idea it was so cave-like when I made the reservations with papa.”

“But you knew it when you called to bring me here?”

“Of course, but I was thinking about the food not the atmosphere.”

“Oh. I see.” Lanett ducked her head so he wouldn’t see the tears form in her eyes. Here she was thinking he wanted to date her and really all he cared about was his stomach.

The word of the week is RING. I have to confess that I took this straight from real life from when I was recently on a business trip with another lawyer. Sadly, I had to spend way too much time with that person and her phone. As you read on, you’ll see why I was gritting my teeth. LOL  – Be sure to visit the other folks here to read some awesome stories.

The day of her visit to Ian’s office finally arrived. A little concerned how he would see her when she saw him again, Lanett dressed with care in one of her favorite dresses. She’d found it at a little boutique in the South Village near Bleeker Street. The tiny flowers covering the fabric of the loose-fitting dress made her smile. She’d paid too much for the thing but fell so completely in love with it that she couldn’t leave it in the store. Her mid-calf length black boots completed the outfit.

Tugging on a jacket to keep herself warm on the cold day, Lanett left her apartment and headed toward the subway. The weather was brisker than the weatherman reported so she increased her pace. Her hair whipped around her face and she knew all the care she’d taken to look good for the handsome doctor just went out on that breeze. Oh well, looks weren’t supposed to matter anyway, were they?

She needed to refocus her energies on getting her stitches out and being able to work at full strength again. The man was not going to be interested in her in any way. Lanett was sure all hope of that went out the door—no matter how nice he was about the cab—when her friend—well, former friend now—showed the whole bar her bad behavior. Lanett was guilty by association.

Inserting her subway card in the slot, Lanett made her way through the turnstile just as the train she needed to be on pulled in. She dashed toward the open doors and leapt on right in time to grab an empty seat before the doors closed.

The subway ride was uneventful except for one woman whose phone kept going off. The ring tone played, “This girl is on fire” and every time she hung up from one call, another one came in. After a few minutes of that, Lanett was to the point of wanting to start a fire herself.

Finally, blessedly, the car arrived at Lanett’s stop and she could leave the hot woman behind, hopefully never to be seen or heard again. Taking a long look at the chick so she would remember her, Lanett exited the train.

This week’s word is stutter and I feel like I’ve used it as a cliche. Oh well, you’ll just have to deal with it. LOL. I wanted to be clever but there really wasn’t a way to do that this time. So, here’s what I have. Be sure to check out the other tales here. 

“Nothing wrong with the clientele, Ian. This is the first issue we’ve ever had. Some of those blokes out there may look rough and scare you since you’re from the upper crust of British society, but most of them are hard workers who are only looking for a beer and a game of pool after a day earning wages. I think if you gave them a chance, you’d find they are a bit of all right.”

“So just the divorced women are an issue?” Ian glanced down at the ledger in front of him. A bit embarrassed by being called out for being a snob, he didn’t know how to apologize to Simon.

“It would appear so. I’m not familiar with the wounded woman. It must be her first time in. Two of the others at her table, I did recognize. I didn’t see the actual incident but if I had to bet, I’d bet on the one with the blonde hair. She’s a troublemaker.” Simon took the seat opposite Ian and ran his hands over the surface of the battered desk.

“Can’t you ban people like that? Is there a law here that lets you?”

“Sure I can decide to tell someone they aren’t welcome on the premises but why toss out a paying customer?”

“I thought you said she was trouble.”

“I didn’t stutter, mate, the woman has some problems but she’s in here a lot and always buys nice wines and champagnes—by the bottle at that—and you know the markup on those, right?”

“No, I’m afraid my knowledge doesn’t extend to wholesale wine prices.”

Simon stood, leaned over the desk and poked at a line on the ledger. “See that entry there?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“That’s for a case of Merlot. Twelve bottles in a case. Do the math and see how much per bottle. Not all that much, huh?”

“Okay. I see. And this shows me what?” Ian jotted some notes on his pad.

“Now check this out.” Simon shuffled his hand around on the desktop. Finding what he sought, he handed the paper to his brother. “This is what a glass costs and this is what the bottle sells for at retail.”

“Wow. That’s some kind of markup.” Ian looked across the desk at Simon. “How do you live with yourself?”