climb into an old Ford Taurus and focused on the back of Sam’s head and the way his dark hair tapered down his neck.
“No, the other one—Sam, with those dreamy brown eyes and that wavy black hair. Whew!” Claire fanned her face. “I’d love to give him a few private lessons, if you know what I mean!”
“Put a lid on your id, girl!” Levisa laughed and shook her head in an attempt to dispel her own disturbing responses to Sam. “I don’t have time for a man in my life. If I don’t finish my research, I won’t graduate in spring. All I need is one more Pigtown subject for the study and I’ll be done. Too bad, he’s the one that got away!”
~*~
“Look at this email.” Levisa pushed away from the computer, so Claire could read the screen.
“Dear Levisa—I hope you don’t think me too bold, but I can’t stop thinking about you since we met at the stadium on Saturday. You are the most interesting woman on this campus. Would you please meet me for coffee at the library? I’d love to get to know you better.
Warmest regards, Chip.”
“You have an admirer. Isn’t that sweet?” Claire giggled. “I wish I had someone who wrote me fan letters.”
Levisa strummed her fingers on the desk. “How’d he get my email address?”
“The clinic website?” Claire suggested.
“If it was Sam,” she murmured, “I’d be there in a heartbeat.”
Claire smirked at Levisa and harrumphed.
She caught herself, and put on her studious face. “No—Not that. I’m still short one subject.” Levisa looked at the calendar over her desk with the days numbered in a countdown to graduation. “I’m running out of time.”
“So, are you going to meet Chip?”
“No. It wouldn’t be fair to lead Chip on just to try to get to Sam. I’ll write back and tell him thanks, but I’m too busy with my research.”
Levisa spent the rest of the day working with her clients and entering data for her project.
At five in the evening, Claire stuck her head in the doorway. “Ready to go?”
“One sec. I’m going to check my email before I leave.” Levisa logged in and gasped.
“What’s wrong?” Claire peered over her friend’s shoulder. “Oh, Chip’s AHOY!”
“I have over thirty emails from him—one every fifteen minutes!” Levisa clicked the mouse, scarcely able to believe her eyes. “Look at this! They all say the same thing —‘Please reconsider. I’ll just keep begging until you give in!’ This is creepy, I’m blocking his messages.”
“Wow!” Claire exclaimed. “How come I never get a guy that’s mad about me?”
“This is the wrong kind of ‘mad’! Let’s go to the Rusty Bucket. I need a drink.”
~*~
The next day, Mrs. Pierce the receptionist, called back to Levisa’s office. “There’s someone here to see you.”
“Does he have a Pigtown accent?” Levisa crossed her fingers, sat on the edge of her seat and hoped it was Sam.
Mrs. Pierce chuckled. “Always on the lookout for good material, aren’t you? No, he’s just the usual.”
Disappointed, she wondered who would ask for her by name. Levisa walked out to the front counter, scanned the noisy waiting room crowded with mothers and preschool children and stopped short.
“I’m so glad you can see me.” Beneath his open nautical windbreaker, a tiny polo player raced across Chip’s shirt. As he placed his hand over his heart, the Virginian extended a small bouquet, and the scent of roses wafted her way. “Darling, these are for you.”
She ignored the flowers and took a step backward. “Chip, I’m sorry. I thought I was clear in my email. I don’t have time for dating now, I have to finish my thesis.”
He dropped to his knees in front of the desk, much to the amusement of a nearby child playing with a toy truck on the threadbare carpet. The little boy giggled and ran to his mother, pointing at the ‘funny man.’
“Please go out with me!” He clasped his hands to his chest, still holding the
“No, the other one—Sam, with those dreamy brown eyes and that wavy black hair. Whew!” Claire fanned her face. “I’d love to give him a few private lessons, if you know what I mean!”
“Put a lid on your id, girl!” Levisa laughed and shook her head in an attempt to dispel her own disturbing responses to Sam. “I don’t have time for a man in my life. If I don’t finish my research, I won’t graduate in spring. All I need is one more Pigtown subject for the study and I’ll be done. Too bad, he’s the one that got away!”
~*~
“Look at this email.” Levisa pushed away from the computer, so Claire could read the screen.
“Dear Levisa—I hope you don’t think me too bold, but I can’t stop thinking about you since we met at the stadium on Saturday. You are the most interesting woman on this campus. Would you please meet me for coffee at the library? I’d love to get to know you better.
Warmest regards, Chip.”
“You have an admirer. Isn’t that sweet?” Claire giggled. “I wish I had someone who wrote me fan letters.”
Levisa strummed her fingers on the desk. “How’d he get my email address?”
“The clinic website?” Claire suggested.
“If it was Sam,” she murmured, “I’d be there in a heartbeat.”
Claire smirked at Levisa and harrumphed.
She caught herself, and put on her studious face. “No—Not that. I’m still short one subject.” Levisa looked at the calendar over her desk with the days numbered in a countdown to graduation. “I’m running out of time.”
“So, are you going to meet Chip?”
“No. It wouldn’t be fair to lead Chip on just to try to get to Sam. I’ll write back and tell him thanks, but I’m too busy with my research.”
Levisa spent the rest of the day working with her clients and entering data for her project.
At five in the evening, Claire stuck her head in the doorway. “Ready to go?”
“One sec. I’m going to check my email before I leave.” Levisa logged in and gasped.
“What’s wrong?” Claire peered over her friend’s shoulder. “Oh, Chip’s AHOY!”
“I have over thirty emails from him—one every fifteen minutes!” Levisa clicked the mouse, scarcely able to believe her eyes. “Look at this! They all say the same thing —‘Please reconsider. I’ll just keep begging until you give in!’ This is creepy, I’m blocking his messages.”
“Wow!” Claire exclaimed. “How come I never get a guy that’s mad about me?”
“This is the wrong kind of ‘mad’! Let’s go to the Rusty Bucket. I need a drink.”
~*~
The next day, Mrs. Pierce the receptionist, called back to Levisa’s office. “There’s someone here to see you.”
“Does he have a Pigtown accent?” Levisa crossed her fingers, sat on the edge of her seat and hoped it was Sam.
Mrs. Pierce chuckled. “Always on the lookout for good material, aren’t you? No, he’s just the usual.”
Disappointed, she wondered who would ask for her by name. Levisa walked out to the front counter, scanned the noisy waiting room crowded with mothers and preschool children and stopped short.
“I’m so glad you can see me.” Beneath his open nautical windbreaker, a tiny polo player raced across Chip’s shirt. As he placed his hand over his heart, the Virginian extended a small bouquet, and the scent of roses wafted her way. “Darling, these are for you.”
She ignored the flowers and took a step backward. “Chip, I’m sorry. I thought I was clear in my email. I don’t have time for dating now, I have to finish my thesis.”
He dropped to his knees in front of the desk, much to the amusement of a nearby child playing with a toy truck on the threadbare carpet. The little boy giggled and ran to his mother, pointing at the ‘funny man.’
“Please go out with me!” He clasped his hands to his chest, still holding the
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