kids, and a three bedroom Cape Cod house complete with a drawer full of handmade jewelry involving yarn and macaroni. I suspect it may be too soon to share this kind of truth.
“I don’t know. I guess I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Well, lucky for you I’m an expert at uncovering dream jobs,” he says, resuming our walk.
“Is that so? And is this a gift you were born with or a skill developed over time?”
“More of a natural ability, I guess.”
“Well that is lucky for me,” I say, thinking of my own gift. It’s funny, but until this moment, I hadn’t noticed the lack of alarm bells. This guy rides a motorcycle and looks like sin on a stick. If he isn’t a bad boy, I don’t know who is. “So, um, how does this natural ability show itself?”
“I have to spend time with the person, get to know their personality a bit. Maybe uncover what their favorite food is or what kind of music they listen to, stuff like that,” he says, throwing another seductive grin at me.
We reach the Bath Shop and Sam stops to look through the crammed front window. The arrival of the work day has never felt less exciting. The prospect of sorting through hand creams when this Adonis of a man is working a mere block and a half from me is too awful to contemplate.
“Well, now I know why you smell so good. You work at a perfume shop.”
The knowledge that he has smelled me, experienced my scent, feels erotic and exhilarating. “It’s a bath shop, actually. We mainly sell bath salts, lotions, and body creams, but we just got in a new line of body powders that smell and taste like food. I’m particularly fond of the honey scent.”
“Sounds yummy.” Sam stares hungrily at me and I know I need to get inside before I break my strict No Dimple Licking plan.
“Thank you for walking me here,” I say, moving to the door. “It was really nice of you.”
“You can make it up to me,” he says, halting my escape. “It just so happens that I’m looking to practice my dream job seeking skills on a new test subject. How about Friday night? We can get together and conduct some scientific research.”
I consider saying yes. I’m torn between my post breakup heartache, my new resolution to make better choices, and the desire to see what Sam looks like under that white t-shirt. But an image of Suzy bent over my Ethan Allen sofa flashes before me. Sam is charming, but so was Tim. I need to learn from my mistakes. “I think I’m going to have to decline from participating in your research project. I actually just ended it with someone,” I explain.
Sam tilts his head to the side, studying me for a moment before giving a little nod and extending his hand to me. “Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I take my research very seriously and you would’ve made an excellent guinea pig,” he says, giving me a slow and sexy grin. Damn, he even makes guinea pigs sound sexy.
“Thanks, I think?” I shake his strong hand and the same electricity that filled me last night surges through me again. I let out a long breath, steeling my resolve. Before I can go back on my words, I retreat inside the shop, leaving him on the sidewalk. I steal a glance over my shoulder and see him turn to walk away.
Amber, wearing a dress that looks like it was torn from the pages of Dominatrix Weekly, emerges from the stockroom and joins me at the window. I watch as Sam ambles down the sidewalk, ass round and tightened to perfection under his blue jeans. That’s right, keep on walking, Sam James. I hope to never see you again.
“What’re you looking at?” Amber asks, sounding bored.
“My past,” I say, turning away from the window.
Chapter 4
The week following a breakup is by far the most difficult of the transition period. One week you’re one half of a happy couple, shopping for new placemats at Target and filling scrapbooks with candid photographs. The next week you’re all alone, alternating between fits of rage and moments of