Friday Mornings at Nine Read Online Free PDF Page A

sounded sinful enough to require a few Hail Marys and all eleven lines of the Act of Contrition. Would he stay to watch her eat one? If so, it’d be just like the famous deli scene in When Harry Met Sally… only she might find herself reaching an orgasmic high for real.
    “Thank you,” she murmured, unable to keep from staring at this generous, funny, unexpectedly sensual man.
    But, aside from the obvious food fantasies he inspired, something about talking with him always made her feel buoyant. Well, when she wasn’t feeling guilty. He made her feel as though she was on the right path somehow. Observing the way he’d conducted himself throughout their few exchanges had convinced her the feelings he aroused weren’t evidence of some silly crush she’d quickly get over. That her interest in him wasn’t a mere physical thing. He might be fifty and the tiniest bit stout, but it was his boyishness and enthusiasm that turned her on. A person could try to ignore attraction, but it wasn’t like you could totally get rid of it, could you?
    No. And there was a special quality about this man. The way he had more pull on her now than ever. He seemed to epitomize the direction she was heading in her life and her understanding of it, whereas Graham—not that there was anything wrong with him (she loved her husband, of course!)—was very much where she’d been. Things were different now between them, and Graham was a living remnant of her younger, less mature manner of walking in the world.
    Dr. Luke leaned a couple of inches closer still, as near as he could be to her without actually making contact. “Do you wanna hear about the rum cake?” he asked, which to Bridget seemed as much a line of seduction as saying, “Do you wanna talk about lacy undergarments and, perhaps, a few kinky sexual positions?”
    She bit her lip and began to nod, just as the office door swung open and a very tense-looking Dr. Nina strode through. The dentist clenched her bony jaw with a rigidity strongly discouraged by the American Dental Association, slammed the heavy oak door behind her and marched toward the desk, her wiry arms pumping at her sides.
    Bridget and Dr. Luke pulled apart as if they’d just been caught kissing in a coat closet and were about to be scolded by Bridget’s old catechism teacher, Sister Catherine Anne. No one ever dared to cross the fiery nun.
    “Hey there, Nina. How are you doing on this fine afternoon?” Dr. Luke asked with his usual amiability, although Bridget couldn’t help but detect something forced in his tone.
    Dr. Nina narrowed her eyes at him in response, then glanced between him and Bridget in an assessing way that left no doubt they were being judged—and not pleasantly. She said, “I’m not in the mood for any crap. From anyone.”
    Dr. Luke’s eyes widened. Bridget blinked at the woman. So much for the “friendly, professional office staff” she’d thought she’d found.
    Dr. Nina dropped some new business cards on the desk and stalked off in the direction of the staff lounge.
    Dr. Luke lifted one of the cards, read it and winced. “Ah.” He flipped it around so Bridget could see. “She did away with the hyphenated last name,” he explained. “She was Nina Brockman-Lewis. Now there’s no more Lewis.”
    “Does that mean there’s also no more husband?” Bridget asked in a low voice.
    “I think that may be an excellent deduction.” Dr. Luke lowered his voice to match hers. “There’ve been problems at home for a while.” He tilted his head toward the back hallway. “I’m gonna go check on her.” But before he turned to leave, he looked directly into her eyes, the kind of warm, affectionate gaze that liquefied her insides to a Ghirardelli hot-fudge-sauce consistency. The kind of glance that had kept her awake past midnight more than once in a futile attempt to interpret it. The kind of knowing glimpse into her soul that would be impossible to explain to her friends without cheapening