The Doctor's Undoing (Doctors in Training 3)

“Hmm.”

She wasn’t sure how to interpret that murmur. “Are you hoping to get into the peds residency here?”

He shrugged. “Y

ou never know. All depends on passing Step 2. And getting through the interview process.”

She gave him a look as she turned from the dishwasher. “You’re not preparing for failure, are you?”

He grinned. “Sugar, I’m always prepared for failure. Better to expect it and be pleasantly surprised than hope for the best and be blindsided.”

She sighed, hiding her reaction to his contagious smile behind exasperation. “You know how I disapprove of that attitude.”

“Yes, I know.” Taking a step toward her, he blocked her path, effectively trapping her against the kitchen counter. He lifted a hand to stroke a strand of hair from her cheek, letting his fingertips linger against her skin. He’d done that once before. It was no less disconcerting this time. “You’ve disapproved of me from the day you met me, haven’t you, Haley?”

“I, um—” She moistened her lips. “Of course not, Ron. We struck up a conversation the day we met, remember?”

“I remember. I mentioned my Plan B—being a mortician—and you gave me a locker-room talk about giving it my best and winning for the home team.”

“I didn’t say anything about the home team,” she muttered with a frown. “And I didn’t disapprove of you. You’re the one who had a problem with my attitude. You called me a cheerleader.”

“Mmm. As in motivator. Inspirer. Encourager. None of which are bad things.”

She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or complimenting her. Maybe a little of both. She did notice that he wasn’t backing away. In fact, she thought he might have inched a little closer. “Ron?”

His gaze lingered on her mouth. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about your advice.”

“Um—what advice?”

“You know what you always say about taking risks and going after what you want?”

She did say that fairly often. “Well, yes…”

“What’s your advice for when a guy wants something very badly, but the risks are damned high?”

“I guess that would depend on how much you’re willing to lose,” she answered very softly.

He searched her face, and his expression wasn’t hard to read that time as he weighed his options. And then he sighed lightly, dropped his hand, and moved an inch backward. “Some things are just too valuable to gamble on.”

She reached out and caught his shirt, gathering the fabric just above his heart in her right hand. Giving a little tug, she brought him back to within touching proximity. “Some risks are worth taking.”

She lifted her face as he lowered his. He hesitated a breath away from her mouth, as if realizing—as she was—that everything between them would change once their lips touched. As worrisome as that thought was, she made no attempt to draw away when he closed that short distance.

There was no first-kiss tentativeness, no fumbling or awkwardness. Ron’s mouth closed over hers with the confidence of intimate acquaintance. And her entire being responded as if welcoming him home. Her fingers tightened spasmodically on his shirt, holding him in place. Her eyes closed, allowing her to concentrate solely on the feel of him, the taste of him, the warmth of him. All sensations she would have sworn she’d experienced many times before.

How could it feel this right when a wary little voice inside her kept screaming warnings?

He lifted his head. Eventually. Slowly. And though she was tempted to tangle her hands in his hair and keep him there, she allowed him to back away.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, inching toward the exit.

He was running. Maybe he needed to process what had just happened between them. She knew she did. “You’re welcome.”

Had she known when she’d invited him that there was a chance something like this could happen?

She suspected she had.

She followed him to the door. “I’ll see you at lecture tomorrow.”