shooed an orange tabby away from her car door.
Her hands were shaking when she went to start the car. To steady herself, she sat back and took a slow, deep breath. Her head was filled with the subtle scent of Jace Cooper—warm, masculine. His taste lingered on her lips—warm, masculine—not unwanted, as her body had so rudely informed her, but unwelcome.
Swearing, she gunned the car’s engine. Cats flew out from under the Honda and bounded for Muriel’s sagging porch.
Dammit, she didn’t want Jace Cooper back. Maybe her hormones had gone into rebellion for a wild moment or two, but she damn well did not want Jace Cooper back. She had the kind of quiet, orderly life every normal person wanted; she didn’t need a human tornado like Jace to roar through and wreak havoc. She knew from experience the kind of destruction he left behind when he sailed out of town.
And he would sail out of town. He’d as much as told her he was just biding his time, waiting for the Kings to figure out they couldn’t get along without him. He would leave, just as he had before. Only this time he wouldn’t be dragging her heart along with him when he went. She would make certain of that.
As she turned the corner, Rebecca couldn’t quite shake the mental image of the sincerity in Jace’s eyes when he’d told her he had changed, that he wasn’t the same man who’d broken her heart seven years before. She couldn’t shake the image, but she couldn’t make herself believe in it either.
Jace had been in a bad accident, and it had scared him. It was natural for people to come away from an experience like that with promises to change the way they lived their lives. That didn’t mean he would keep the promise. She was certain he wouldn’t.
In a way she had envied him. Jace had been brash and reckless, with little regard for the rules of polite society. He had been above the rules. A wealth of talent had made him exempt, while it had made her a prisoner of sorts.
She had always been the one to toe the line, the “good” Bradshaw girl. The pressure to accept responsibility, to live up to other people’s expectations, had been with Rebecca as long as she could remember. And she had always conformed. Jace Cooper hadn’t known the meaning of the word.
He hadn’t changed, Rebecca thought, shaking her head.
Same old Jace.
But Rebecca knew the real danger wasn’t the bad points of the old Jace. There wouldn’t have been anything difficult in loathing a man who partied too hard, gambled too much, and used his friends. The real danger was her memories of the qualities that had made her fall in love with him.
Jace could be sweet and genuinely caring when it suited him. He could be a compassionate confidant. He could be insightful. He could be tender. He had understood her as no one else ever had.
Rebecca groaned as she parked the car in her garage and killed the engine. She didn’t have an ounce of energy left. The only thing that had kept her going for the last few minutes had been tension, and it seeped out of her now. Her shoulders sagged. She gave in to the urge to rest her head on the steering wheel.
How was she going to be able to face Jace in the therapy room first thing in the morning? Like a predator scenting weakness in its victim, he would move in for the kill after that fiasco in his room.
She was going to have to lay down the law right away. Jace would find out in short order that she was the boss—of her therapy department and of her heart. She didn’t take guff and she didn’t date patients, and that was that. Rules were rules.
As if rules had ever stopped Jace Cooper.
Muttering, Rebecca scooped up her coat and purse and trudged to the back door. When she tried the knob, it was locked. A yellow light blinked at her from the control panel beside the door. The voice that spoke from the box was her own.
“I’m sorry. You can’t go in. This door is security checked. At the tone you will have sixty seconds to use
Her hands were shaking when she went to start the car. To steady herself, she sat back and took a slow, deep breath. Her head was filled with the subtle scent of Jace Cooper—warm, masculine. His taste lingered on her lips—warm, masculine—not unwanted, as her body had so rudely informed her, but unwelcome.
Swearing, she gunned the car’s engine. Cats flew out from under the Honda and bounded for Muriel’s sagging porch.
Dammit, she didn’t want Jace Cooper back. Maybe her hormones had gone into rebellion for a wild moment or two, but she damn well did not want Jace Cooper back. She had the kind of quiet, orderly life every normal person wanted; she didn’t need a human tornado like Jace to roar through and wreak havoc. She knew from experience the kind of destruction he left behind when he sailed out of town.
And he would sail out of town. He’d as much as told her he was just biding his time, waiting for the Kings to figure out they couldn’t get along without him. He would leave, just as he had before. Only this time he wouldn’t be dragging her heart along with him when he went. She would make certain of that.
As she turned the corner, Rebecca couldn’t quite shake the mental image of the sincerity in Jace’s eyes when he’d told her he had changed, that he wasn’t the same man who’d broken her heart seven years before. She couldn’t shake the image, but she couldn’t make herself believe in it either.
Jace had been in a bad accident, and it had scared him. It was natural for people to come away from an experience like that with promises to change the way they lived their lives. That didn’t mean he would keep the promise. She was certain he wouldn’t.
In a way she had envied him. Jace had been brash and reckless, with little regard for the rules of polite society. He had been above the rules. A wealth of talent had made him exempt, while it had made her a prisoner of sorts.
She had always been the one to toe the line, the “good” Bradshaw girl. The pressure to accept responsibility, to live up to other people’s expectations, had been with Rebecca as long as she could remember. And she had always conformed. Jace Cooper hadn’t known the meaning of the word.
He hadn’t changed, Rebecca thought, shaking her head.
Same old Jace.
But Rebecca knew the real danger wasn’t the bad points of the old Jace. There wouldn’t have been anything difficult in loathing a man who partied too hard, gambled too much, and used his friends. The real danger was her memories of the qualities that had made her fall in love with him.
Jace could be sweet and genuinely caring when it suited him. He could be a compassionate confidant. He could be insightful. He could be tender. He had understood her as no one else ever had.
Rebecca groaned as she parked the car in her garage and killed the engine. She didn’t have an ounce of energy left. The only thing that had kept her going for the last few minutes had been tension, and it seeped out of her now. Her shoulders sagged. She gave in to the urge to rest her head on the steering wheel.
How was she going to be able to face Jace in the therapy room first thing in the morning? Like a predator scenting weakness in its victim, he would move in for the kill after that fiasco in his room.
She was going to have to lay down the law right away. Jace would find out in short order that she was the boss—of her therapy department and of her heart. She didn’t take guff and she didn’t date patients, and that was that. Rules were rules.
As if rules had ever stopped Jace Cooper.
Muttering, Rebecca scooped up her coat and purse and trudged to the back door. When she tried the knob, it was locked. A yellow light blinked at her from the control panel beside the door. The voice that spoke from the box was her own.
“I’m sorry. You can’t go in. This door is security checked. At the tone you will have sixty seconds to use
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