Mister Romance by Amelia Simone (the reading list .txt) 📕

I groaned. If only I hadn’t chickened out. “Yeah, don’t remind me.” I looked at the clock. “I need to go check on my patient in room two. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Maybe you can ask him.” Gina’s parting shot followed me down the hall.

Luckily the rest of our shift was filled with laboring mothers and demanding partners otherwise I’m sure I would have gotten an earful about asking Chase to the wedding. We had a rush of deliveries, including one that turned into an emergency C-section. One mother’s labor moved so quickly I almost had to deliver the baby in the hall, but we moved her into a room with her OB just in time. After the excitement of meeting Chase and a shift spent on the run between patients, I was exhausted. I made my last rounds before wishing Gina a good night and clocking out.

“Hey, Vicki and I want to have you over for dinner on our next weekend off. We can celebrate your belated birthday and use it as an excuse to eat more cake. Can you make it?”

The prospect of an evening spent with Gina and Vicki with the added bonus of dessert immediately caught my attention. I loved Gina’s wife, Vicki. And cake. Vicki was an instructor at a local technical college. She exuded zen and was peaceful to hang out with. Pretty much Gina’s polar opposite.

“Sure, that sounds great. Just tell me what to bring.”

She grinned back. “How about that handsome author?”

Gina held up her hands at my exasperated expression. “Kidding, kidding. But I think you should ask him to your brother’s wedding.”

At least Gina and my hormones were in violent agreement. If only the dynamic duo could convince my stubborn mouth to push the words out the next time I saw Chase. Finding a segue from nursing to weddings was difficult, but that had never stopped my conversational curveballs before. Thoughts of the stubble framing Chase’s sensual mouth and his broody author eyes twisted my stomach with nerves. He probably had offers every night of the week. A friendly wedding date was likely the last thing he wanted.

“What are you my friend, or my life coach?”

“Both! Get it, girl. Ask the man. What will it hurt?”

I laughed at her enthusiasm. I was beat, yet Gina still had energy to cheer me on. My feet hurt, and she could probably still run a 10K.

“Goodnight, Gina.”

“Do it,” she whispered back on a laugh.

When I got home, I checked my phone. I had another message from Chase.

@TamraRN Hope I didn’t scare you away today. Would like to treat you to dinner and pick your brain more. Sunday, 6pm?

I bit my lip. I knew what Gina’s answer would be. My racing pulse at the thought of being close to him again was its own answer. Plus, I had that pesky favor to ask. Even if he was only asking me over in a professional capacity, I wanted to help him with his book. He’d offered to cook, and I couldn’t turn that down. I contemplated picking a more neutral location, but part of me was curious to see how he lived. Get to know the real Chase. Gina would have my back if he turned out to be a creeper. She’d pry the details of our next meeting out of me even if I didn’t volunteer them for safety. It was worth the risk.

@VirginiaRothman Sure. Send me your address and tell me what I can bring. Hint: store-bought items highly recommended. My kitchen skills aren’t up to yours yet.

MY THIRD POLE DANCING class tested my newfound comfort with my own sensuality. I’d been working hard to perfect my back-leg hook spin, and I’d managed it perfectly twice. The thrill of accomplishment carried me through the rest of our pole drills.

Just as I was ready to practice the basic routine that combined our spins and dance choreography, Meghan dropped a bombshell. “Sometimes it’s fun to play around with new elements. Today I want to challenge you to add a shirt peel to your routine. Do what you’re comfortable with and know this is a safe space. Maybe tug on your shirt a little if a full removal feels like too much.”

I breathed a sigh of relief at the second option. My sports bra offered plenty of coverage, but judging from how my classmates were shifting and avoiding eye contact, it might take a time or ten before we were ready to remove clothing together.

Meghan turned on a sultry ballad and went through a demo of her own while we all watched from the wall. She started with her back to us, facing the opposite wall of the studio. As the intro to the musical piece picked up, she began to sway, side to side, slowly lifting one side of her tank top and inching it up before dropping it to place her hands against the wall. Her palms caressed the textured drywall, gliding up before sweeping around in a turn that put her back to the wall. As she circled her hips, again her hands came to the bottom of her shirt, slowly bringing it up her body. It was deliberate and sexy. She was seducing us with the hint of what was to come. Her head dropped in a dramatic hair toss, and as her head came back up, her hands stripped her shirt up and over. Using one shoulder, she pushed off against the wall, dropping and dragging her tank top behind her as she strutted to the pole.

Was it getting hot in here? For a simple action like taking off a shirt that most of us performed every day, Meghan knew how to infuse it with extra drama. She dropped her performance persona and beamed at us, “Okay, now it’s your turn. Remember, if you get caught in your shirt, just dance it out. Take your time and go slow. It’s not a race.”

Okay.