like you, too, John.”
He snuggled next
to me. “I also like scrambled eggs for breakfast.” Then he chuckled.
I playfully
slapped his arm. “Good. You can make extra for me.”
John kissed my
cheek. “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you Nora?”
I didn’t offer a
reply. I figured that was one of those tidbits of information he would
eventually discover about me. At least, I hoped he would get to know the real
Nora Kehoe. I had been keeping much of my true nature from John, and I began to
question if he would even like the outspoken woman I had sequestered away.
I nestled in his
arms, and my apprehension quickly dissolved. We were just beginning, I
reasoned, and there would be time enough for getting to know each other. I
listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat and was reassured that everything
was as it should be between us.
But when I
closed my eyes, my mind was seized with a whirlwind of activity. Images of my
mother’s tantrum about grandchildren, John’s directions during sex, and my
uncle’s warning about passion all flashed before me. Then, I saw Jean Marc
Gaspard looming over me with his thick arms folded across his bare chest. He
was staring at me with his black eyes gleaming, and a smug grin on his handsome
face. My eyes flew open and I became gripped with dismay. Why on earth was I
dreaming of him?
Chapter 5
The smell of
coffee from the kitchen stirred me from a very restful sleep. The clock next to
my bed read five-fifteen in the morning. I yawned lazily, and as an idea hit
me, I leapt from the bed. I ran to my closet and pulled out a short robe I had
been saving for just such an occasion; the kind where you want to look like you
just woke up and fell out of a Victoria’s Secret advertisement. I put on the
pink satin robe, checked myself in the mirror, gave my long, blond hair a quick
run through with my fingers, and then ran to the bathroom and shot back some
mouthwash to complete the illusion. When I stepped into my small green and
white kitchen I felt confident, sexy, and sure I would be able to lure John
back into bed for another try.
“You’re up,” he
said when he saw me enter the brightly lit kitchen.
I had to squint
for a moment, having forgotten to stick to the shadows so as not to reveal too
much of my morning after self. After my eyes had adjusted, I was relieved to
see John Blessing standing by my cooktop next to the built-in oven, tending to
scrambled eggs and wearing only his trousers. His eyes had dark circles beneath
them, and his constant five o’clock shadow had turned into a thick stubble.
He came up to
me, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me on the lips. It was a long, deep
kiss that was mixed with the comforting sense of familiarity, as well as a hint
of sexiness.
“You look good
in that.” He playfully tugged at the belt on my robe.
I stood back
from him and nodded to the cooktop. “Early breakfast?”
“My beeper went
off.” He kissed my forehead and returned to his eggs. “One of the residents
under me had some questions about a patient. I couldn’t get back to sleep after
that.”
I came up behind
him and placed my arms about his waist while he stirred the eggs in the pan.
“Everything all right?”
“Sure.” He
turned off the flame on the gas cooktop and picked up the frying pan. “Just
routine stuff. First year residents are always nervous about making decisions.
They feel they have to get back up opinions for everything.”
“Were you like
that?”
He shook his
head. “I always knew what my limits were when I was a first year. But I tried
to solve the problem before I asked for help; didn’t want to appear weak. These
first years are pitiful.” He divided the scrambled eggs between two plates
waiting on the counter. “I was hoping to bring you this in bed, but now that
you’re up, you can make the toast.”
I headed to the
refrigerator to get the bread. “Are you going back to the hospital
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