Unexpected Chances

The effect was potent, more than any other good-looking man had had on her ever. Guiltily, thoughts of John, her on-again, off-again boyfriend, arose. She and John had started dating when she’d returned home to take over her sick father’s practice a little over a year ago. But while John was ready to settle down and had begun pressuring her for more of a commitment, she wasn’t ready, and lately she’d been wondering if she ever would be.

&n

bsp; She’d been putting him off with flimsy excuses, but I need more time and Let’s get to know each other better didn’t hold much weight when they’d known one another since grade school. John provided comfort and ease but not this overwhelming sexual desire she felt just looking at Dylan again.

“Hello?” Dylan waved a hand in front of her face. “I asked if you’d give me a flu shot?” He studied her with concern.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and focus on keeping Dylan in the past where he belonged. Forcing a smile, she said, “Sure. I can manage one more shot.”

She gave him a quick exam, not wanting to spend too much time examining his broad, tanned, muscular chest or any other part of his body that created that longing feeling swirling inside her. After a quick escape to gather her equipment, she walked back into the exam room.

“So are you going to Whipporwill’s tonight?” he asked about the town’s annual Christmas party. He pushed up his sweater sleeve in preparation for his shot.

She shook her head. “I haven’t had any down-time lately. I thought I’d head home and relax.” In fact, she’d already called John and cancelled, claiming exhaustion. Her bed beckoned.

Once she’d slept, she would wake up refreshed and full of holiday spirit, ready to shop for the gifts she normally purchased way ahead of time. But since her father died, she’d been so busy keeping his practice alive that she’d had no time for anything that resembled fun.

“That’s too bad. I was hoping I could steal a dance.”

She shot him a disbelieving glance. A dance? Was that something like their hug? Did he really find being around her that easy, making conversation that simple, as if they’d never meant anything to each other beyond friends? Was the attraction that swirled inside her, even now, nonexistent for him when he looked at her? She clenched her jaw in pain and frustration.

“I thought we could hang out and catch up. You know, like old times. Come on, Holly. Please?”

She closed her eyes and counted to ten, seeing her relaxing night evaporate. If she didn’t show up at the party, Dylan would think she was avoiding him, or worse, running from her feelings.

“Fine,” she said with forced cheer. “I’d love to hang out with an old friend.” As long as he didn’t call her his Midnight Angel again.

And since he found it so easy to be her friend, she decided there was a nice, fleshier place than his arm for her to insert the needle for his shot. One where he wouldn’t forget her quite so easily this time.

“Oh, Dylan? I need you to do me a favor first.”

He grinned, obviously pleased she’d agreed. “What’s that?”

“Drop your pants.”

He groaned, and she laughed, her first free and easy laugh since he’d walked into her office unannounced.

TWO

Whipporwill’s was the fanciest restaurant in Acton and often doubled as a catering hall for weddings and other assorted affairs. By L.A. standards, it fell short of chic, and by Boston standards it was a family-style restaurant at best. Still, it was the best Acton had to offer, and tradition dictated the whole town show up for an annual bash the week before Christmas.

Dylan leaned against a scarred, wood-paneled wall, smiling and greeting friends, both old and new. His mother, Kate, stood on the opposite side of the room, holding court, gesturing proudly to her famous son. He’d flown his mother to L.A. a few times a year and he’d come home to visit and left just as quietly. Having him here to show off was a first, and she reveled in the attention. Meanwhile, he was looking around for Holly, who was nowhere to be found.

Dylan had all but dared her to show up tonight. In his arrogance, he’d thought that just because he’d once been able to anticipate her actions, he could still do the same. But as the minutes passed, he was forced to admit he’d miscalculated. Badly enough for him to admit defeat.

Before he could come up with an excuse that his mother and everyone else would accept so that he could leave gracefully, a guy he recognized from high school walked over and joined him.

“Dylan, I heard you were in town. It’s good to see you.” The other man held out his hand.

Dylan grinned. “John Whittaker? Damn, it’s been a long time.” He pumped his old friend’s hand.

“Last time I saw you, we were cleaning toilet paper off the football field to keep Coach from calling the cops and reporting the school had been vandalized.”

Dylan laughed. “I remember.” It had been their high-school graduation farewell prank. Dylan had left for L.A. a few days later.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought of that night over the years. Every time I see your ugly mug on the cover of a magazine, in fact.” John shoved his hand into the back pocket of his chinos.

He still favored the preppy look, while Dylan had always liked jeans and T-shirts best. Unlike many of the guys Dylan had greeted tonight who sported bald spots or comb-overs, John still had a full head of sandy-brown hair.