foot. Shrugged into his coat as she held the door. Smiled an innocent smile and said, “So what time should I come by?”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re not serious. You don’t really want to come to dinner.”
“I told your sister I’d be there, so I’ll be there.” He cocked his head. “That make you nervous?”
She sputtered. “Oh please. Irritable, yes. Nervous, no.”
“So what time should I come by?”
He could hear her teeth grind. He bit back another smile.
“She’s right around the corner,” she got out at last. “Just come whenever.”
“Okay then, I’ll see you at noon.”
“ What ? No! One o’clock is early enough.” She put a hand on his back, gave him a shove through the door. “You can get a cab on Beacon.” And she closed it behind him.
As he stepped out into the snow, he made himself look ahead instead of back. He didn’t want to see the warm lights he was leaving behind, and if she wasn’t watching him walk away, he didn’t want to know it.
What he did want was to get inside her defenses. She was prickly as a hedgehog, but whenever he snuck past her quills, he found something interesting. Like the psychic dream-house thing. That was just weird enough to be true.
And her smidgen of a diamond. That really got to him. That, and her sorrow. They put his own hurt feelings to shame. Made him see what he should’ve seen months ago, that Bethany had wounded his pride, not broken his heart. Hell, he’d hardly thought of her since he hit Boston a week ago. Only once or twice since meeting Julie, and then Bethany suffered by comparison.
He shoved his cold hands deeper into his pockets as he turned downhill toward the Common. Along the sidewalk, old-fashioned streetlamps glowed. Brick row houses marched along both sides of the street, each one decorated for Christmas with wreaths and candles and swags of white lights.
Julie had none of those things. No tree shining from her window. No holiday spirit at all. It was bound up inside her, like everything else. Like her passion and laughter and heart.
Julie Marone, he decided, was a package that needed unwrapping.
Well, it was Christmas, right?
Julie sank down on her sofa. Rolled her head to the side and took one long, delicious sniff of pure male pheromones.
Why was she torturing herself? Cody was a doctor , for God’s sake. She shouldn’t be so attracted to him.
But she was, damn it. She was.
She scraped her fingers over her scalp, tugged her hair back till it stretched her whole face. Dinner would be an ordeal. He’d charm the socks off her family. Amelia practically drooled when she saw him asleep on the sofa. Her mother would go down just as hard, and when she got a load of his drawl, forget about it.
They’d shove him down her throat with both hands. And she was terrified that she’d give in and swallow.
Her gaze strayed to David’s photo. His gentle eyes. His peaceful smile. Even during his illness he’d been a calm, steadying presence. A counterpoint to her fly-off-the-handle temper, her raging impatience and burning resentment at a world where death chose its victims without rhyme or reason, where goodness was irrelevant and suffering came to those who deserved it least.
Yes, David fought his battle with dignity and grace, while she beat her fists bloody against the injustice of it all.
And when it was over and David’s ashes had washed out with the tide, still the furnace of her fury roared. Grief stoked it; so did loneliness and impotence and guilt. Unable to accept her loss, she turned her silent wrath on the doctors who’d failed to save him. On all doctors everywhere who went home to their expensive houses and their pampered spouses while David, her David, drifted out to sea.
For three years that fire had burned in her breast, unquenched by time, impervious to reason. Now Cody threatened the very underpinning, her absolute belief that doctors cared about nothing but money. Because he simply didn’t fit the
Her jaw dropped. “You’re not serious. You don’t really want to come to dinner.”
“I told your sister I’d be there, so I’ll be there.” He cocked his head. “That make you nervous?”
She sputtered. “Oh please. Irritable, yes. Nervous, no.”
“So what time should I come by?”
He could hear her teeth grind. He bit back another smile.
“She’s right around the corner,” she got out at last. “Just come whenever.”
“Okay then, I’ll see you at noon.”
“ What ? No! One o’clock is early enough.” She put a hand on his back, gave him a shove through the door. “You can get a cab on Beacon.” And she closed it behind him.
As he stepped out into the snow, he made himself look ahead instead of back. He didn’t want to see the warm lights he was leaving behind, and if she wasn’t watching him walk away, he didn’t want to know it.
What he did want was to get inside her defenses. She was prickly as a hedgehog, but whenever he snuck past her quills, he found something interesting. Like the psychic dream-house thing. That was just weird enough to be true.
And her smidgen of a diamond. That really got to him. That, and her sorrow. They put his own hurt feelings to shame. Made him see what he should’ve seen months ago, that Bethany had wounded his pride, not broken his heart. Hell, he’d hardly thought of her since he hit Boston a week ago. Only once or twice since meeting Julie, and then Bethany suffered by comparison.
He shoved his cold hands deeper into his pockets as he turned downhill toward the Common. Along the sidewalk, old-fashioned streetlamps glowed. Brick row houses marched along both sides of the street, each one decorated for Christmas with wreaths and candles and swags of white lights.
Julie had none of those things. No tree shining from her window. No holiday spirit at all. It was bound up inside her, like everything else. Like her passion and laughter and heart.
Julie Marone, he decided, was a package that needed unwrapping.
Well, it was Christmas, right?
Julie sank down on her sofa. Rolled her head to the side and took one long, delicious sniff of pure male pheromones.
Why was she torturing herself? Cody was a doctor , for God’s sake. She shouldn’t be so attracted to him.
But she was, damn it. She was.
She scraped her fingers over her scalp, tugged her hair back till it stretched her whole face. Dinner would be an ordeal. He’d charm the socks off her family. Amelia practically drooled when she saw him asleep on the sofa. Her mother would go down just as hard, and when she got a load of his drawl, forget about it.
They’d shove him down her throat with both hands. And she was terrified that she’d give in and swallow.
Her gaze strayed to David’s photo. His gentle eyes. His peaceful smile. Even during his illness he’d been a calm, steadying presence. A counterpoint to her fly-off-the-handle temper, her raging impatience and burning resentment at a world where death chose its victims without rhyme or reason, where goodness was irrelevant and suffering came to those who deserved it least.
Yes, David fought his battle with dignity and grace, while she beat her fists bloody against the injustice of it all.
And when it was over and David’s ashes had washed out with the tide, still the furnace of her fury roared. Grief stoked it; so did loneliness and impotence and guilt. Unable to accept her loss, she turned her silent wrath on the doctors who’d failed to save him. On all doctors everywhere who went home to their expensive houses and their pampered spouses while David, her David, drifted out to sea.
For three years that fire had burned in her breast, unquenched by time, impervious to reason. Now Cody threatened the very underpinning, her absolute belief that doctors cared about nothing but money. Because he simply didn’t fit the
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