didn’t want him to start
treating her like a patient. “I’m fine now, really. I’m not sure what came over
me.” Except for a tsunami of self-doubt about the one thing that’s always
made me feel good. To prove she wasn’t lying, she sat back down, picked up
her fork and skewered a scallop, then put it into her mouth. It was delicious,
and her fear that she’d be unable to eat vanished.
“I do. You were enjoying yourself too much.” Jeff used a
fork to point at her, the playful tone of his words belying their seriousness.
“You were afraid you’d forget to be careful and actually tell me something
about yourself.”
“That’s not true,” Leonore protested. The reasons she
generally avoided anything beyond small talk had nothing to do with fear. It
just wasn’t necessary to know anything about the men she bedded.
“Then prove it. You were telling me about your novel. What’s
it about?”
“It’s just, you know, a novel.” Leonore took another bite of
the pasta and determined that her stomach was going to cooperate. Suddenly she
was ravenous.
“No, I don’t know,” said Jeff. “I read all kinds of novels,
everything from horror to romance. What’s yours?”
“ You read romance novels?” Jeff nodded, and Leonore
continued. “I’m surprised. Most guys wouldn’t admit it. I picked you for
medical thrillers.”
“My life is a medical thriller. People leave stuff
around the doctors lounge, and residents work all kinds of crazy shifts.
Believe me, the last thing I want to do after spending a day with medical
personnel and dying kids is read about doctors and sick people. A good old,
sappy romance novel is the perfect escape.”
Leonore grinned. “Sappy?”
“I mean that in the best possible sense. Good wins the day,
the guy gets the girl…” He raised an eyebrow over a bite of food. “Does this
mean your novel is a romance?”
“No,” said Leonore. “It’s more of a…a book about an ancient
quest.” She had a little more of the excellent wine. “Tish says it’s a wannabe
autobiography—how I would have been if I’d lived in the sixth century.”
“Tish?”
“Letisha. My…friend.” Gawd , had she just mentioned
another Leonorean to a virtual stranger? Leonore eyed the wine bottle to see if
they’d had more than she thought. Nope, still half full.
What is it about this guy? Her arms were still
literally tingling from where he’d touched her a few minutes before. Maybe it
was affecting her mind.
“So your protagonist is a woman, and she’s on a quest in the
sixth century. An historical adventure, then? I’d like to read it.”
Leonore wondered if he was just being polite, or if he was
really interested.
“I don’t generally let people read unfinished work.”
“Except Tish?”
Touché.
“Tish—Letisha—is more like family than a friend. And she
badgered me into it.”
“I’m prepared to badger.” The way he said it, with an
exaggerated eyebrow wiggle, made it sound like an indecent proposal. Leonore
laughed.
“Maybe,” she conceded.
She realized she was completely relaxed again. The disquiet
caused by his revelation about the research was still there, but another voice
seemed to be telling her not to worry, that no bad could come from being with
this man.
It was a completely new sensation.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Jeff said, standing up, “I have to
get out the heavy equipment for the pièce de résistance .”
“Huh?”
“You’ll see.”
He moved to the kitchen island and opened a cabinet
underneath. He removed a metal canister and put it on the bar with a clunk.
“Is that a blow torch? Are you planning on welding
something?”
“It’s a chef’s torch. Probably doesn’t get hot enough for
welding, but I haven’t tried it.” He turned to the refrigerator and took out
two shallow white dishes and placed them on the counter next to the torch.
“Crème brûlée,” he explained. He removed a striker from a
drawer, turned a
treating her like a patient. “I’m fine now, really. I’m not sure what came over
me.” Except for a tsunami of self-doubt about the one thing that’s always
made me feel good. To prove she wasn’t lying, she sat back down, picked up
her fork and skewered a scallop, then put it into her mouth. It was delicious,
and her fear that she’d be unable to eat vanished.
“I do. You were enjoying yourself too much.” Jeff used a
fork to point at her, the playful tone of his words belying their seriousness.
“You were afraid you’d forget to be careful and actually tell me something
about yourself.”
“That’s not true,” Leonore protested. The reasons she
generally avoided anything beyond small talk had nothing to do with fear. It
just wasn’t necessary to know anything about the men she bedded.
“Then prove it. You were telling me about your novel. What’s
it about?”
“It’s just, you know, a novel.” Leonore took another bite of
the pasta and determined that her stomach was going to cooperate. Suddenly she
was ravenous.
“No, I don’t know,” said Jeff. “I read all kinds of novels,
everything from horror to romance. What’s yours?”
“ You read romance novels?” Jeff nodded, and Leonore
continued. “I’m surprised. Most guys wouldn’t admit it. I picked you for
medical thrillers.”
“My life is a medical thriller. People leave stuff
around the doctors lounge, and residents work all kinds of crazy shifts.
Believe me, the last thing I want to do after spending a day with medical
personnel and dying kids is read about doctors and sick people. A good old,
sappy romance novel is the perfect escape.”
Leonore grinned. “Sappy?”
“I mean that in the best possible sense. Good wins the day,
the guy gets the girl…” He raised an eyebrow over a bite of food. “Does this
mean your novel is a romance?”
“No,” said Leonore. “It’s more of a…a book about an ancient
quest.” She had a little more of the excellent wine. “Tish says it’s a wannabe
autobiography—how I would have been if I’d lived in the sixth century.”
“Tish?”
“Letisha. My…friend.” Gawd , had she just mentioned
another Leonorean to a virtual stranger? Leonore eyed the wine bottle to see if
they’d had more than she thought. Nope, still half full.
What is it about this guy? Her arms were still
literally tingling from where he’d touched her a few minutes before. Maybe it
was affecting her mind.
“So your protagonist is a woman, and she’s on a quest in the
sixth century. An historical adventure, then? I’d like to read it.”
Leonore wondered if he was just being polite, or if he was
really interested.
“I don’t generally let people read unfinished work.”
“Except Tish?”
Touché.
“Tish—Letisha—is more like family than a friend. And she
badgered me into it.”
“I’m prepared to badger.” The way he said it, with an
exaggerated eyebrow wiggle, made it sound like an indecent proposal. Leonore
laughed.
“Maybe,” she conceded.
She realized she was completely relaxed again. The disquiet
caused by his revelation about the research was still there, but another voice
seemed to be telling her not to worry, that no bad could come from being with
this man.
It was a completely new sensation.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Jeff said, standing up, “I have to
get out the heavy equipment for the pièce de résistance .”
“Huh?”
“You’ll see.”
He moved to the kitchen island and opened a cabinet
underneath. He removed a metal canister and put it on the bar with a clunk.
“Is that a blow torch? Are you planning on welding
something?”
“It’s a chef’s torch. Probably doesn’t get hot enough for
welding, but I haven’t tried it.” He turned to the refrigerator and took out
two shallow white dishes and placed them on the counter next to the torch.
“Crème brûlée,” he explained. He removed a striker from a
drawer, turned a
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