Million-Dollar Maverick. Christine RimmerЧитать онлайн книгу.
his mind and didn’t drink from it. “I wasn’t talking about girlfriends.”
She didn’t really want to go there. But then, well, why not just get it over with? “There was a doctor, at the hospital where I worked. A surgeon.”
“It didn’t work out?”
“No, it did not.” She glanced toward the bay window that framed the breakfast nook. The rain kept coming down. The wind was up, too. “Listen to that wind.”
He nodded. “It’s wild out there, all right.” Lightning flashed then, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Callie put the milk in the fridge and threw the ruined paper bags away. He held up his beer bottle. “I’ll finish this up and get out of your hair.”
She had plenty of boxes left to unpack, and the sooner he went home, the sooner she could get going on that. Still, she heard herself offering, “Stick around. Faith Harper brought me a jumbo baking dish full of chicken divan last night. I have plenty left if you want to join me.”
He took his hat off the counter and then dropped it back down. “You sure?”
She realized she was. Absolutely. “Yes.”
Half an hour later, he’d cleared all the stuff off the table and set it for them with dishes she’d unpacked the night before. She’d cut up a salad and baked a quick batch of packaged drop biscuits. He said yes to a second beer and she poured herself a glass of wine. They sat down to eat.
After a couple bites, he said, “I remember this casserole. Faith’s mom always brought it to all the church potlucks. It was a big hit. The water chestnuts make a nice touch.”
Callie chuckled and shook her head.
“What?” he demanded.
“I don’t know. It’s just... Well, that’s a small town for you. I love it. I give you chicken divan and you can tell me its history.”
He ate another bite. “It’s the best.” He took a biscuit, buttered it, set down his knife. “So how do you like working with Emmet?”
“What’s not to like? He really is the sweetest man, and he’s good, you know, with the patients. Everyone loves him, me included.” She sipped her wine. “The equipment we’re working with, however, is another story altogether.”
His brows drew together. “I thought Emmet got some grants after the flood, that everything was back in shape again.”
“That’s right. He had the building restored. It is in good shape now, and he saved most of the equipment by moving it to the upper floor before the levee broke. But was all that stuff even worth saving? It’s a long way from state of the art, you know? The diagnostic equipment is practically as old as I am. And the exam table cushions are so worn, they’re starting to split.”
“You’re saying you need funding?” He was looking at her strangely, kind of taking her measure....
“What?” she said sharply. Did she have broccoli between her teeth or something?
“Hey, I’m just asking.” That strange expression had vanished—if it had ever been there at all.
She spoke more gently. “Yeah, we could use a serious infusion of cash. So if you know anybody looking to give away their money, send them our way.”
“I’ll do that,” he said. And then he picked up his fork and dug into his food again.
A few minutes later, he helped her clear the table. It was a little after seven. If he left soon, she could still get a couple more hours of unpacking done before calling it a night.
But the longer he stayed, the more she didn’t want him to go.
In the back of her mind, a warning voice whispered that she was giving him the wrong signals, that she was supposed to be swearing off men for a while, that she might be really attracted to him, but her friend Paige Traub had called him a douche—and he’d acted like one the first time they met. Plus, well, he kept saying he was moving away, and she never wanted to live anywhere else but Rust Creek Falls.
It couldn’t go anywhere. And the last thing she needed was to get herself all tied in knots over a guy who wouldn’t be sticking around.
But then, instead of waiting for him to say how he should get going, she opened her big mouth and offered, “Coffee? And if you’re lucky, I may even have a bag of Oreos around here somewhere....”
He rinsed his plate in the sink and handed it to her. “Oreos, did you say?”
“Oh, yes, I did.”
“And I know you’ve got milk. I saw you put it away.”
She bent to slide the plate into the lower dishwasher rack. “Have I found your weakness?”
He moved in a step closer. “There are just some things a man can’t resist....”
She shut the dishwasher door and rose to face him, aware of the warmth of him, so close, of the gold striations in those moss-green eyes, of how she loved the shape of his mouth, with that clear indentation at the bow and the sexy fullness of his lower lip.
He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers along the bare skin of her arm, bringing a lovely little shiver racing across her skin. Outside, the sky lit up and thunder rolled away into the distance. The rain just kept pouring down, making a steady drumming sound on the roof.
She whispered, “Nate...”
And his fingers moved over her shoulder, down her back. He gave a light, teasing tug on her unbound braid. “I keep thinking of those pictures of you, with your braces and your pigtails. I’ll bet you had a mouth on you even then.”
This close, she could smell his aftershave, and beneath that, the healthy scent of his skin. “What do you mean, a mouth?”
“You know. Sassy. Opinionated.”
Her lips felt kind of dry, suddenly. She started to stick out her tongue to moisten them but caught herself just in time and ended up nervously pressing her lips together. “I am not sassy.” She meant it to sound firm, strong. But somehow, it came out all breathless and soft.
He chuckled, rough and kind of low. She felt that chuckle down to her toes. It seemed to rub along her nerve endings, setting off sparks. “Yeah,” he said. “You are. Sassy as they come.”
“Uh-uh.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, Nate.”
“Yes, Callie.” Now his voice was tender.
And she felt warm all over. Warm and tingly and somehow weightless. She’d gone up on her tiptoes and was swaying toward him, like a daisy yearning toward the sun.
His hand was on her shoulder now, rubbing, caressing. And then he said her name again, the word barely a whisper. And then he did what she longed for him to do. He pulled her closer, so she could feel the heat of him all along the front of her body, feel the softness of her own breasts pressed to that broad, hard chest of his.
He made a low questioning sound. And in spite of all her doubts, she didn’t even hesitate. She answered with a slow, sure nod, her eyes locked to his as his mouth came down.
And then, in the space of a breath, those lips of his were touching hers, gently. Carefully, too. To the soft, incessant roar of the rain, the constant harsh whistling of the wind, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, parting her lips for him, letting him in.
The kiss started to change. From something so sweet it made her soul ache to something hotter, deeper. Dangerous.
A low growling sound escaped him. It seemed to echo all through her, that sound. And then his tongue slid between her lips, grazing her teeth. She shivered in excitement and wrapped her arms tighter around him.
He held her tighter, too, gathering her into him, his big hands now splayed