Page 63 of The Cajun Doctor

Although he didn’t expect any bad company anymore tonight, he found himself scanning the perimeter of the property, and he checked the door locks after he entered the house. Not that any goons with ill intent couldn’t enter by smashing one of the ten-foot-tall windows fronting the house! Hopefully, the dogs, cats, or pig would ward them off.

A flash of summer lightning cracked overhead, and in the distance, he could hear the rumble of thunder. The humidity level was at about a hundred and fifty percent. They’d have a rainstorm soon. The funny thing about the bayou was that the storms came sudden and often, but usually only lasted a short time, then dried up with a full blistering blast of heat or sunshine, all in a matter of minutes. It was the hurricanes that posed the biggest threat here near the coast, but this wasn’t hurricane season.

Feeling grungy, he decided to take advantage of Aaron’s high-tech shower. Which reminded him of the high-tech fridge Aaron had mentioned. He had to smile. As if they needed a keg on tap at all times! Or some hoity-toity party drawer!

The shower with its 360-degree, rain forest attachment did feel good. He was almost a new man after he dried off and put on a pair of running shorts and flip-flops. He didn’t own any PJs.

He was about to go back downstairs and make a cup of coffee. No sense trying to sleep now. It was two-thirty a.m. and dawn would be here in a few hours. Not that Daniel couldn’t sleep on demand, no regard for the clock, a habit required when he’d been a practicing doctor on call. Navy SEALs thought they’d invented standing REM sleep, where a soldier could catch a bit of sleep, standing up, eyes open, maybe only five minutes at a time. They had nothing on physicians who had to be mentally and physically alert, even after a few days on their feet. Many a time, he’d worked two-day shifts, then crashed for a full twenty-four hours.

When he was about to pass Aaron’s bedroom, he noticed the door was half open; so, he decided to check on Samantha. Just to make sure she was all right. (Don’t laugh.)

The wind was up, another indicator of the impending storm, causing the open French doors to bang against the wall. All of the bedrooms on this level opened onto a balcony that wrapped around all sides of the mansion. So far, the banging doors hadn’t awakened Samantha, but just to make sure, he walked softly across the bare cypress floors and closed the doors. That was another on the long list of needed improvements for the property: latches to secure the French doors when open.

The room was dark, but he could make out basic shapes, including Samantha, who was hugging one edge of the king-size bed.

As he was about to leave, she murmured, “Is that you, Daniel?”

He stopped and looked at the bed. She was still lying down, but propped up on both elbows.

“Yeah. Sorry if I woke you.”

“I was only half asleep. Too much on my mind. What time is it?”

He pressed the light button on his watch. “Two thirty-five.”

“Oh, Lord! I don’t know how I’m going to make it through another day, with so little sleep.”

“You’ll manage. You’re a strong woman.”

“You think?” she asked. Then, “Are you being sarcastic?”

“A little.”

“I can’t believe how much has happened in the past twenty-four hours.”

“Sweetheart, twenty-four hours ago, we were having hot sex, in our dreams,” he reminded her.

“Don’t remind me,” she said on a groan.

In the dark, like this, the groan sounded kind of sexy. He still had muss-mess on the brain.

“I’ve been making a list. In my head. Of all the things I . . . we . . . need to do tomorrow . . . rather, today.”

He groaned then, too, and not at all in a sexy manner. A list maker! He should have known she would be one of those anal retentive list makers. He had things going on in his head, too, but not lists. Unless they were lists of things he wanted to do to Miss Muss.

“Sit down,” she invited.

At first, he thought she’d said “lie down,” and every sensible thought in his head dissolved and dropped with a thud to a spot between his legs.

There were no chairs in the room. But then, in another flash of lightning, she waved toward the bottom edge of the bed, catty corner from her mile-away spot at the opposite corner.

Ah! So, it wasn’t an invitation to act out one of their sex dreams.

As if! a voice in his head said. Or maybe it had been her, sensing his rising libido.

Maybe I should take another rain forest shower. A cold one.

Or maybe I should invite her to join me. And not so cold.