The Right Kind of Crazy (Love, New Orleans Style Book 6)

  CHAPTER ONE

  The man behind the office’s only desk lounged with an easy grace, his feet propped on the edge of its sleek glass top. Lively blue eyes beneath dark red hair gazed back at her, taking her in from head to toe. Samantha “Sami” Pepper had dressed especially carefully for this interview, even investing in a new pink linen suit that hugged her hips yet didn’t call too much attention to her annoyingly large bust. “I’m sorry,” she said, clasping a crumpled paper to her chest. “I thought this was Mr. Lawrence’s office.”

  The man tossed a thick clutch of papers onto the desk and rose. “At your service,” he said, rounding the desk and smiling down at her. “Flynn Lawrence.”

  As he moved, Sami saw the similarity in the lithe body, the sexy air of assurance and command. Sean hadn’t mentioned a brother. Or had he? Two years had passed since she’d seen him. “Are you related to Sean?”

  The light in his eyes dimmed. He nodded.

  “May I speak to him?” She glanced at the survey response in her hand. The return address had been clear. Lawrence Enterprises, at this address in an industrial area of New Orleans.

  “No.”

  “Oh.” Sami blinked. But she was a woman on a mission. Moving farther into the room, she said, “I realize I don’t have an appointment, but I’m leaving town tomorrow and I received this response only today.” She held out the survey form that was unfortunately beginning to feel damp and mangled. “Your receptionist did say she was sure you wouldn’t mind if I popped in.”

  A snort of laughter sounded from across the room. “You’ve got her well-trained,” said a man in a husky voice that sounded terribly familiar.

  “No need for the peanut gallery,” Flynn Lawrence said over his shoulder.

  Sami turned toward the other man’s voice. He was heading toward her with a slow, graceful stride, an easy grin on his movie star-gorgeous face. She gasped. “You look exactly like Cameron Scott!”

  He nodded and extended a hand. “Guilty. And you are?”

  “Sami Pepper.” She shook hands, gazing almost shyly at the larger-than-life star. It wasn’t his action movies she admired; it was his fairytale marriage the tabloids loved to document.

  “Nice to meet you.” The actor cocked his head toward the other man. “Flynn here has terrible manners. He should have offered you a seat by now.”

  “Oh, that is not at all necessary,” Sami said. “I’m looking for Sean Lawrence, not Flynn Lawrence. Mr. Scott, may I say you and your wife’s love story is more romantic than any film ever made. And I love your wife’s children’s books.”

  “You have children of your own?”

  “Oh, no.” Sami sighed. “Not yet. I’m not even married. But all my friends have kids and I love reading your wife’s stories to them. My favorite one is Sniggle and Snaggle Hike the Grand Canyon. Please tell her how wonderful a writer she is.”

  “Why don’t you tell her? We’re having a few friends over for drinks and dinner. Flynn is coming.” He turned toward Flynn, his expression gentling. “But maybe you should help her first with what she needs from your brother.”

  Sami fluttered the survey response she was carrying. “Thank you so much, but I’m leaving town in the morning and the last matter I have to check off on my list is my follow-up interview with Sean. If you can just tell me which office is his that would be most helpful.”

  Looking across the room, Flynn closed his eyes for a moment and then met Sami’s gaze. “I’m Sean’s executor. If you had business with him I’ll help you in any way I can.”

  Executor. Sean was dead? Sami closed the space between them and reached a hand to his forearm. With a gentle touch, she brushed her hand briefly against his skin. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “So very sorry.”

  “You are a very sympathetic woman,” Cameron Scott said. “That gesture was very heartfelt.”

  “Yeah, well, sympathy doesn’t unbury the dead,” Flynn said, edging his arm away.

  “Of course it doesn’t. It must have just happened. He sent this questionnaire back so recently. It can’t seem real yet.”

  “What questionnaire are you talking about?” Flynn said.

  Sami indicated her paper. “My Dating Analysis Questionnaire. I sent out 177 surveys, to each of the men I’ve been on a date with in the past thirty-one months.”

  “Why are you surveying the men you dated, Ms. Pepper?” Cameron asked, as if he were interested in the answer.

  Flynn Lawrence, on the other hand, was staring at her as if she’d said something completely crazy.

  Sami placed a hand on her hip. “Plenty of men want to go out with me, but after a second date, they almost always disappear. Do you know I have never been on a third date with a man? Oh and by the way, it’s Doctor, not Ms.”

  Flynn gave a low whistle. “That last comment might give you a clue.”

  Cameron chuckled. “This old married guy wants to get home to my family. Why don’t you two follow along together and duke this out?”

  Sami turned toward Cameron Scott. She was awfully tempted to accept his invitation as she would love to meet one of her favorite authors.

  Sami glanced over at Flynn just in time to see him drawing a finger across his throat and shaking his head at Cameron. He couldn’t have made it any clearer that he did not want to be stuck with her company. But then she considered that having recently lost his brother, Flynn might not want to be social. She lowered her purse off her shoulder and tugged out the return envelope to check the postmark date.

  “Oh, my,” she said. “Your brother must have died within the last week.”

  Flynn snatched the envelope from her hand and crumpled it. “He’s been dead thirty-two days.”

  “But…” Sami looked from the survey form back to Flynn. “Who sent this then? You?”

  He nodded.

  “Why?”

  His jaw clenched. “It was in his papers. I didn’t want his widow to find it or to receive a follow-up. And the way the cover letter was worded I gained the clear impression that a second and maybe a third would be sent.”

  Sami nodded. “I do like to be thorough.” She held out her hand, reflecting that Sean had married, a goal that continued to elude her.

  Flynn returned the envelope.

  “It was very thoughtful of you to spare your sister-in-law.” She couldn’t help but sigh, though. “Even though it means that all the men who responded married someone.”

  “Ever consider you might be trying too hard?” Flynn was looking at her as if he were studying a piece of sculpture in a museum. “My policy is to turn off the brain and let the libido run the show. It’s never failed me.”

  Cameron shook his head. “The tragedy of the perpetual playboy.”

  Sami nodded. “Sean was like that, too. But he must have fallen in love. And gotten married,” she added softly.

  “And had a baby who will never know his father,” Flynn added, sorrow in his voice.

  Sami couldn’t restrain her innately sympathetic nature. She reached out again and touched him on the arm, patting him the way she would one of her dogs who needed to be comforted. “How did he die?”

  Flynn shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Sami remembered that Sean drove like he was competing in a Formula One race. “Was it a car accident?”

  “Yes, damn it.” Flynn pulled away from her touch. “He swerved to avoid hitting a dog, lost control, and slammed into a tree.”

  “I am so sorry,” Sami said.

  “Don’t. Just please don’t,” Flynn said. He gave her a brief smile. “I realize you mean well and it’s a
shock to you, too. I guess you went on a date with him.”

  “Two, actually.”

  “He must have liked you.” Flynn gave a ghost of a grin. “We were both one and done guys, up until the day he met his wife. Then bam, he was a goner.”

  Sami sighed. “How romantic. I’m happy he had that joy.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” He stared across the room, his jaw working.

  Cameron clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m out of here. See you two at the house. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Jonni would love to meet you, Dr. Sami Pepper.”

  “Thank you,” Sami said, first smiling at Cameron Scott and then eyeing Flynn Lawrence with a speculative glance. As soon as Cameron passed through the doorway, she said, “You really do not have to go with me. Give me the address and I’ll pop in, meet Jonni Scott and be on my way.”

  Flynn shook his head. “Oh, no. What Cameron wants, Cameron gets. He’s my number one client.”

  “Oh,” Sami said, processing his statement. “Are you in real estate? Your brother was a physicist.”

  “Not real estate. I’m a personal manager. Movie stars, musicians, that sort of thing.”

  “Do you enjoy your profession?”

  Flynn looked at her as if no one had ever asked him that question. “What’s not to like? All the money and women I want.”

  She tipped her head to one side. “I see.”

  “You see what?” He sounded annoyed.

  Sami shrugged. “I would suggest that you have yet to achieve the top level of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.”

  Flynn turned back to his desk, opened a drawer, and snatched his keys. “You brainy types can be very annoying. What kind of doctor are you? Surgeon? Endocrinologist? Otolaryngologist?”

  “You know, I never manage to pronounce that last specialty without mangling the nomenclature,” Sami said, giving Flynn one of her sweetest smiles. She was sure he didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. It had to be his grief and pain talking. Sean had been one of the nicest guys she’d ever dated. They’d met while each was at a conference in Las Vegas and had played goofy golf. It wasn’t until the second date, after she’d stayed up all night to brush up on quantum mechanics and Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle, determined to make sure he was impressed with her ability to speak his language, that things had gone the familiar downhill route of all her second dates. He’d made an excuse to ditch her right after dinner. She’d never heard from him again.

  And now he was dead. And his brother clearly grieved his loss. Sami tucked the envelope and survey response into her purse. “I’m not a medical doctor,” she said. “I have a Ph.D. in philosophy.”

  Flynn Lawrence gazed at the pink and blonde bit of feminine perfection standing so close to him. In a perfect world, he and this babe would be on their way for a drink, dinner, and then hot sex, preferably at her place so he could yank his jeans back on and be out the door before she could ask him if he preferred a bagel or pancakes for breakfast. He had a woman he’d met last night lined up for exactly that mission and now here he was saddled with escorting this hopeless romantic to Cameron and Jonni’s. Five minutes around those two love birds would have her sighing and dreaming of happily ever after.

  Flynn had his rules. He did not hit on women who had Husband and Baby penciled in on their Day-Timers. “Philosophy. That explains a lot,” Flynn muttered, striding to the door and waiting for her to follow him.

  “The fact that I have earned a doctorate in philosophy explains nothing,” she said, rather primly. “Logically, you might conclude that should you require medical attention, you should not call me.”

  Flynn jerked his head toward the doorway. “End of lecture, Dr. Pepper.”

  Sami followed him out of his office, pulling sunglasses out of her purse. “I’m sorry I corrected the Ms.” She propped the glasses on her perfect button of a nose, a nose that was actually kind of appealing. Flynn studied the curve of her upper lip, the plump pink curve of her mouth. If only she’d stop talking, she’d be quite kissable.

  “You were only being precise,” he said, pushing open the outer door.

  “It’s automatic,” she said. “I mean it comes out of my mouth without my brain being engaged.”

  “Honey, I know what automatic means.” He popped his sunglasses on.

  She had the grace to blush. “Well, of course you do. Who wouldn’t know? Look, I said I’m happy to go on my own.”

  Flynn shook his head. Parking at Cameron’s was going to be a struggle. He could pull into the Scotts’ garage but she’d be left to seek street parking. When it was this easy to make Cameron happy, though, he didn’t mind doing it his way. And despite her somewhat wonky way of speaking, the blonde was pretty darn attractive.

  He guided them to his reserved parking space. Sometimes when he was in New Orleans on business he rented a car, but today he had one of Cameron’s spare Volvos. He opened the passenger door and as he did he remembered that Jonni kept a child’s safety seat in the back of all their cars. He didn’t mind it being there when he was the only passenger, but having a car seat in the back when he was driving with a hot babe gave him the willies. He didn’t want to be that man, not now, not ever. Blocking her way, he said, “What say we take your car? I’ll take a cab back from Cameron’s and pick up my wheels later.”

  He watched as she leaned around him, peering through the darkened windows.

  “Hiding one of your babes in there, Mr. Lawrence?”

  Flynn slammed the door. “Where’s your car?”

  “Follow me,” she said, heading in the direction of the Visitor parking.

  She walked with grace and surprising speed, her hips swaying just enough to catch his eye. Nice hips. Tiny waist. The only thing wrong with her outfit was that short box of a jacket. He sped up his pace, to walk alongside her, close enough to check the inviting gap in the button-less jacket. A hot pink camisole showed enough to hint at the generous swell of her breasts.

  She stopped abruptly and clicked her key fob. His eyes on her cleavage, Flynn didn’t see the concrete bumper of the parking spot. His foot hit the edge and he tripped, barely saving himself from a fall. He bit back a curse.

  “Mindfulness, Mr. Lawrence,” she said. “Staying present in the moment is the key to a calm mind.”

  Hell, he’d been more than present. He’d been about to savor a virtual taste of the creamy flesh peeking from her cami. That lecture hall voice brought him securely back to the moment. “Are you always so…so…?” He couldn’t think of the right word to describe her combination of allure and annoying-ness. He knew that wasn’t a word but his brain couldn’t come up with anything better.

  “Precise?” Sami shook her head and opened the driver-side door of a small but sporty- looking Honda. “I am programmed to strive for perfection, but sadly, I tend to fall short. And if I begin to feel anxious or out of my element I use words to cover up any shortcomings.”

  “Silence might take a heck of a lot less effort,” Flynn said. “I’m happy to drive.”

  “Thank you, but I prefer to drive.” She slid behind the wheel. “I enjoy being in control of my destiny.”

  He got into the passenger seat. It wasn’t worth arguing over, but he hated not being the driver. Men drove. Women sat in the passenger seat. He never thought of it as sexist; it was the way he lived his life.

  “So it must make you crazy that you didn’t get everyone to answer your questionnaire.”

  Sami gunned the engine and swung out of the parking spot just as another car pulled out opposite her. The other driver laid on the horn and Sami did, too. Then she switched out of reverse and roared out of the lot, barely slowing at the stop sign. “Let’s not discuss my questionnaire,” she said. “You and I have never gone on a date; therefore your input would be meaningless.”

  Flynn held onto the arm rest with one hand, the edge of his seat with the other. “Have it your way, Dr. Pepper.”

  She raced around a delivery truck. “Why don’t we drop the d
octor nomenclature? You may call me Sami.”

  He flashed a grin at her. “Okay, Sami.” He closed his eyes briefly as she swung onto the Earhart Expressway, ignoring the “No right turn on red” sign. “So, Sami, where do you work?”

  She wrapped a hand around her hair, pulling it to one side and giving him an improved view of her cleavage. “St. Charles University. Philosophy department.”

  “Hmm,” he said. His favorite part of school had been spring break. “So you teach classes?”

  “And research and write.”

  “Funny, I’d think everything had already been discovered in a field like that. It’s not like philosophy is gene mapping or discovering a cure for cancer.”

  “There’s always more to learn. About everything.”

  Her breasts rose and fell quickly under that dowdy jacket. Flynn noted the move with heightened interest. “That research and writing thing. That’s what led you to develop that questionnaire?”

  She nodded. “I was seeking information from which to form a hypothesis that would allow me to achieve my personal goals.”

  “Whoa,” Flynn said. “Can you say that in English?”

  She cast a sideways glance at him. “I want to get married and have babies. But I’ve never gone on more than two dates with the same man. My questionnaire was a means to study what is causing me to fail.”

  Rarely was Flynn at a loss for words. He stared at the luscious armful of female only a few inches from his touch. What man wouldn’t want to strip that jacket off her body, tease that camisole over her head, and slowly, oh so slowly explore every curve? And those rosy lips were made for kissing. He shifted in his seat. Damned if he wasn’t getting hard just picturing this woman naked.

  “You’re doing it,” Sami said, in a forlorn voice.

  Flynn jerked out of his fantasy. “Er, doing what?”

  “Thinking of having sex with me. Once. And then dropping off the planet.”

  “No. Well. So, okay, I was. What’s wrong with that?” Flynn reached over and brushed his fingertips along her cheek. “You are one gorgeous woman.”

  Sami pounded a hand on the steering wheel. The light at the end of the expressway turned red. She slammed on the brakes. “I have a rule. No sex on the first date.”