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"Who?" Drake said.
"Sam Cuttington."
Drake said nothing for a moment as if surprised. He cleared his throat. "When did this happen?"
"Only recently," Michael said from the front seat. "We contacted Sam at Christmas that you were coming to teach the robotic surgery class, but didn't hear back until now. Sam's a great student and wants to specialize in robotic surgery. We'll all work closely together."
Drake nodded, and then looked out the window. He was strangely silent. I squeezed his hand and he turned and smiled at me, but his expression was forced.
I wondered who this Sam was and why Drake seemed uncomfortable.
The trip to the boutique hotel, Hemingway's, was uneventful, despite the traffic on the expressway. We arrived at the hotel, which was on a large green expanse set in the middle of Nairobi. The hotel was new, but looked like an estate from the British raj where its namesake might have stayed. Surrounded by trees and lush green fields, the white colonial had a large outdoor pool and faced the Ngong Hills in the distance. Drake had kept it secret, wanting to surprise me.
The hotel was beautiful.
Our suite was larger than my apartment in Manhattan, with a top-of-the-line bathroom, all marble and glass, a canopy bed with thick pillows and duvet, and living room area richly appointed in British colonial style. We even had a butler who would take care of all our needs while we were staying at the hotel. He took us to our room and filled us in on the services available during our stay.
The views from our suite were spectacular and as the sun began to set, the orange-white light fell across the room in a large swathe. I could imagine waking up to the bright sunlight in the morning. Maybe a swim in the pool before breakfast. I could almost feel the stress of the past weeks in Manhattan, while we waited to hear Liam's prognosis, melt away as I gazed out the patio doors.
Claire and Michael waited in the living room while Drake spoke to the butler. I freshened up in the bathroom, changing into something a bit dressier, selecting a black sundress before fixing my hair. When Drake was finished, he joined me, having a quick shower. When he was done, he pulled a towel around his waist and came to me as I stood by the sink and fixed my makeup.
"So, what do you think, Ms. Bennet?" He took me in his arms. "Does the hotel meet your expectations?"
I slipped my arms around his neck. "It's fantastic. Looks like a place Hemingway himself would stay, except brand new."
He kissed me warmly. "Good. I want you in the lap of luxury while we find a place to live. You've been working hard at college for five years and now it's time to relax and do whatever you feel like. Paint. Sightsee. Go on safari."
"What about you?" I said, running my fingers through his still-damp hair. "You've been working hard at your surgical practice, your foundation, the business, and your band…"
"I only worked as hard as I wanted. I want you to rest, sleep in as late as you want. Stay up as late as you want, painting or writing. Whatever your heart desires."
I smiled. "I might like to do some wildlife art while I'm here. When I was in high school, I did a lot of bird paintings so it makes sense to paint wildlife since we're in Africa."
"I'd love to go on Safari," Drake said. "Maybe some weekend when I'm not on call. Claire and Michael will know some good places to go and good tour guides."
I pushed a hank of hair from his forehead. "I'm pretty tired. I hope we won't be out late."
Drake shook his head. "Don't worry. We'll go to the mixer, go for some local food and then come back early. I think I might like a late-night swim in the pool, though."
"Sounds good to me."
We kissed. As we stood in each other's arms, enjoying the connection, I remembered his response in the car to the news that Sam was coming to take his class.
"You didn't seem all that pleased that this Sam fellow was coming back to the college to work with you and Michael."
Drake shook his head. "Not a he." Drake brushed the backs of his fingers against my cheek. "Samantha Cuttington, one of Michael's former students."
I frowned. That could only mean one thing. There was something between them.
"Tell me," I said, a chill going through me as I fought my urge to feel jealous.
"I met her when she was a resident two years ago. I volunteered at the hospital for a couple of months. At Michael's request, I was here to help deal with a backlog of cases the foundation brought in from Somalia. It was before my father died. We," he said and shrugged. "Sam and I had a fling."
"A 'fling'? I didn't think you had flings."
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p; "I don't. Sam and I," he said and hesitated. "We went out a few times, had sex a few times. But she wasn't interested in anything to do with BDSM so nothing more developed."
