Prescription: Baby. Jule Mcbride

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Doctoring wasn’t exactly a reputable profession.”

      When she shook her head as if to say he was impossible, light from the overhead tracks caught in her hair, turning the curls a beautiful burnished orange. His lips parted, but before he could say she possessed the most gorgeous hair in Texas, she drawled, “Are you sure you don’t mind me staying to do this?”

      Mind? The second Katie Topper had stepped into his foyer, he’d decided he wanted her to stay all night. “I always get post-party blues,” he assured her.

      Reaching into the sink, she lifted out dessert plates. “Incorrect response, Doctor. You’re supposed to say you like my company.”

      “What,” he teased. “Fishing for compliments?”

      She mock-scowled. “Maybe. What are you grinning at, anyway?”

      The corners of his lips twisted into a flirtatiously devious smile. Each time she leaned to load the dishes, he got an eyeful of the best-looking backside in Austin. “Just looking at you. Scrubs and hairnets don’t do you justice.”

      “And they supposedly enhance your appearance?”

      He looked hurt. “They don’t?”

      “No. And if I’d known you were hosting a party in my honor,” she added, shooting him an arch glance, “I would have dressed better.”

      “It doesn’t get any better than this.” His eyes drifted over the faded denim hugging her hips. “Personally, I like tight jeans on a woman.”

      “If you said you liked them on men, I’d start to wonder.”

      “Hmm. Want to turn around? Model for me?”

      Smirking, she swatted her very tempting-looking rear end. “Oh, kiss my round Irish behind, Ford Carrington,” she said grumpily.

      “What?” Laughing, he poured himself another glass of wine and swirled it in the globe. “Be honest now. Didn’t you think I asked you here to seduce you, Katie? Just for a second?”

      A breathless moment passed. Recovering, she shot him a game look. “Oh, you know how we nurses are when it comes to doctors. We always hope.”

      He lifted his gaze, pinning hers over the rim of the glass. “Are you hoping tonight?”

      “Keep dreaming,” she lightly volleyed in reply.

      “You’re asking me to dream? I’ll take that as encouragement,” Ford assured, knowing she had no idea how their banter was affecting him. “There’s plenty of time left for dreaming, isn’t there, since the night’s still young?”

      Her green eyes were assessing. “Is it?”

      It damn well was, and the silence that fell like a dropping curtain lasted full seconds too long. They saw each other almost daily and had teased each other mercilessly, but now they were alone in his big, empty house, with an open bottle of wine between them. After tonight she’d be gone for three months, too, plenty of time for a one-night stand to blow over.

      She kept her tone deceptively conversational. “Not so young,” she said, nodding toward the picture window above the sink. “See? There’s already a full moon out there.”

      Her slow, thick accent curled into his blood, making him smile once more. In comparison, his accent was gone, educated out of him by the swanky Northeastern prep schools where his parents had sent him, and which he’d hated. She’d been right in the OR, he thought, watching her. Her Texas and his were two different places. She was a farm girl, born and bred, and even now, she talked like one. Still toying with the wine in his glass, watching the red liquid splash the sides, he drawled, “Sometimes a full moon makes all the difference in the world to a woman. Is it that way with you, Katie?”

      “Only because I’m afraid of what you’ll turn into.”

      He chuckled. “Hard to tell. A werewolf or vampire.”

      “Oh, no,” she said darkly. “Definitely something worse.”

      “Definitely.” Further relaxing against the counter, he wished he shared this kind of easy repartee with his crowd, instead of long, drawn-out evenings at fund-raisers, talking about stock portfolios. Breathing in the wine, he then savored the taste and immediately wished he was tasting something warmer, headier…Katie. “I’ll miss you,” he found himself saying, his voice catching throatily, becoming unexpectedly hoarse. “You’re the best nurse we’ve got. And when you come back, Cecil Nelson’s going to get hold of you.”

      As she tossed her head, her magical curls caught the light again. She laughed off the compliment. “No pun?”

      Ford’s eyes lingered, roving over her hair, and he took another drink of the liquor to soothe the dryness of his throat. “Pun?”

      “Nelson. Getting hold of. Nelson’s a wrestling hold.”

      Leave it to Katie to get the best of him in conversation. “No pun.” And he was getting impatient with the fun and games. “When are you going to start calling me Ford, Katie?”

      She grinned. “Never.”

      “Damn, you can be irritating,” he countered with another playful smile. “C’mon, quit doing the dishes. I told you earlier, I’ve got a maid coming tomorrow. Have a glass of wine with me. I invited you over for your going-away party, not to clean.”

      Giving in, Katie dusted her hands with a dishcloth, and when her eyes found his again, she sobered. “The party was nice. Thanks…Ford.”

      He liked hearing her say his first name. He liked feeling those hot, searing emerald eyes on him, too. They were so sharp, so heartbreakingly green, and from working with Katie, he knew they never missed a detail. Usually, he didn’t, either. How had he overlooked the soft, female intent that she was trying so hard to hide?

      “I read the recommendation letter you sent to Houston,” she added. “Thanks for that, too, Ford.”

      He’d said she was the best nurse he’d ever worked with. “It’s the truth.” She was wonderful. Everybody loved her. “So many people wanted to give you a send-off that only my place was big enough for the party.”

      She glanced around. “It is big.”

      He couldn’t stop the low, suggestive and very ungentlemanly chuckle. “Size put you off?”

      She sent him a droll glance. “Now, why would the size of a house put me off?”

      Laughing, he shrugged. “I’ve got mixed feelings about the place myself. It was a family house, belonged to my grandfather.”

      The previous innuendo had brushed color across her cheeks. “The one who started the Carrington Foundation?”

      The one relative that Ford felt had truly loved him. “Yeah.”

      Absently threading fingers through her hair, making him long to touch the springy, coiled strands, she shot another appraising look around the stainless steel kitchen. “Too big for one person,” she said decisively.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ