The Makeover Prescription. Christy JeffriesЧитать онлайн книгу.
why was she all of a sudden starting to worry about any of it now? She undid her ponytail and massaged her scalp before turning to the tile samples she’d set on the credenza behind her.
Julia ran her fingers over the glazed surfaces of the colorful porcelain pieces. Kane had suggested neutral colors because they added to the resale value. While some of the decorating magazines she’d perused pushed the idea of an all-white bathroom, the surgeon in her worried that she would grow tired of the sterile and clinical feel of such a contrast-free environment.
Julia brought the blue-and-green mosaic strips to her desk and propped them against some medical texts so she could get a better look at them. If they laid the glass tiles in a running bond pattern in the shower, she could use both colors, but would it overpower the white cabinets and the large, claw-foot tub in the center of the room?
She shook some more Raisinets out of the box as she contemplated the color scheme. Not that she was the type who turned to food for comfort—Fitzgeralds didn’t need comforting, after all—but during med school, she’d found that she thought better when she snacked.
Unfortunately, no amount of snacking could get Kane’s voice out of her mind. She tried to ignore the warmth spreading through her at the memory of her body’s response to his assessing stare outside the gym.
The sooner she made a selection, the sooner she could get back to more important things—like picking a dress for the hospital gala and finding an appropriate date to take with her. Preferably one that didn’t look at her as though he knew exactly how much she wanted those sexy, smirking lips to...
Julia snatched another handful of candy, determined to distract herself from thinking of his mouth, only to have her focus shift to the blue-green glass tiles that were the exact same shade as his eyes. If she chose that color, would she be sentencing herself to a lifetime of showers feeling as though his penetrating gaze was surrounding her naked body?
She reached for the plain white subway tiles before changing her mind and grabbing her smartphone. After taking a quick picture, she fired off an email to Kane in an effort to prevent herself from wasting any more of her time with such dangerous and unproductive thoughts. And to stop the sound of his slow drawl calling her darlin’ replaying over and over again in her mind.
* * *
It was after eleven o’clock, and Kane’s brain had yet to slow down enough to make going to bed an option. Usually a day’s physical labor followed by a long, mind-numbing run after dinner was enough to tire him out sufficiently so that it would take only about thirty minutes for him finally to drop off into his standard six hours of sleep. But images of his client in all her spandex workout glory wouldn’t stop popping into his overactive mind, and he decided he might as well pull out his laptop and do some invoices in an effort to bore himself to sleep.
He could go out to his garage and work on his Bronco, but because of his attention issues, once he got hyperfocused on a project, he would lose all sense of time and end up exhausted and cranky the following day.
So, it was either crunching numbers or watching a late-night edition of SportsCenter, which he knew from past experience would only get him more frustrated.
Picking the mentally healthier and more productive option, he sat up and switched on his bedside lamp before opening his nearby laptop. He logged onto his email and, in his inbox, he saw the very name of the source of his late-night thoughts. He clicked on the attached image and stared at her tile selection. He had to give credit to Just Julia. She wasn’t too outlandish in her remodeling requests. In fact, Kane had originally suggested white just because the doctor seemed like a plain vanilla kind of person. But seeing the bold colors of the tiles she’d picked—as well as the snug fabric of her high-end athletic wear—made him rethink his original opinion. She’d typed information about the brand and tracking numbers in the body of the email. But he squinted at the bottom left of the picture, seeing notes written on a yellow notepad off to the side.
Although today’s encounter at the hospital made it a total of three times they’d seen each other in person, he’d emailed her with updates, and she’d stopped by the house in the evenings when he wasn’t there and left pictures carefully cut out of magazines along with handwritten descriptions on lined paper taped to the walls. Usually her notes were detailed instructions of what she liked or wanted, and even though they were long and tiresome to read, Kane would much rather deal with a client on paper than one in the flesh.
Especially one whose curvaceous, damp flesh he’d been thinking about all evening.
So when he saw the note by the bluish green tiles, his first instinct was to zoom in and see what special instructions she had for him now. Instead, he leaned closer as he read the words “Qualities I Want in a Man.”
What in the world was this? His finger vibrated over the mouse pad, but refused to click on the button that would close the image.
By the time he got to number three, he tried to tell himself that this obviously wasn’t meant for him to see. Yet like a pitch in midhurl, he couldn’t stop now. Why in the world would she write out such a ridiculous and pointless list? Or one so personal?
Assuming she was the one who’d written it in the first place.
It was her handwriting, though. He’d exchanged plans and inventories with her long enough to know that the woman put a ton of thought into every list she created. Freckles had made several offhand remarks this past week regarding her niece’s single status and lack of a social life. Maybe Just Julia was feeling inadequate in that department and was making an effort to step up her game.
His eyes bounced around the enlarged image, trying to take all the information in at once while he told himself that there was no way he’d make the cut. Not that he wanted her looking in his direction, anyway. Kane had to take a few deep breaths to focus on what he was reading. Hell, were there any qualities on here that he even remotely possessed? He read it through again.
Must be social.
That certainly wasn’t him. Sure, it used to be, before his career had taken a nosedive, but nowadays, Kane viewed social situations like most batters viewed a curveball—confusing and oftentimes unavoidable.
Must be educated and able to discuss current events.
Nope. Kane Chatterson barely sat still long enough in class to make it out of high school with a diploma. He had a feeling even that accomplishment was the result of sympathetic teachers and his dad’s generous donation to the library building fund.
Must be patient and not lose his temper.
Kylie once told him that he had the patience of a hummingbird, which said a lot, considering his sister’s only speed was overdrive.
Must enjoy swimming or similar civilized athletic pursuits.
Sure, baseball could be civilized if compared to rugby or ice hockey or cage fighting, for instance. But as any of the three million YouTube viewers would attest, the swinging bats and punches and profanity involved in the Brawlgate scandal two years ago were anything but civil.
Strong.
In terms of what? Before his shoulder injury, Kane could bench-press two-fifty and hurl a fastball ninety-nine miles per hour. But Erica, his ex, had once called him emotionally unavailable and a weak excuse for a boyfriend. So he was fifty-fifty in the strength department.
Good with his hands.
Kane looked at his palms, trying to imagine how his work-worn, callous hands would compare with the uppity doctor’s long, graceful fingers that meticulously saved lives. Meh.
Flannel.
He glanced at his open closet and the soft plaid shirts hanging in order by color. He had a feeling the prim Navy captain meant the man she was looking for must prefer wearing flannel pajamas or some other conservative outfit to bed.
Kane stretched out under his quilt and tried not to grin at how shocked Just Julia would be if she could see the complete lack of flannel between his sheets right now.