The Doctor's Damsel in Distress

Friends. What every crazy-about-a-man woman wanted to hear. Friends. The kiss of death. She felt like the poor turtle, capable of snapping but scurrying away hooked. Could she really have been so wrong about the way he’d looked at her?

“That’s all you want from me?” She pinned him with her gaze, daring him to look away. “Friendship?”

He didn’t look away, but he didn’t look happy either. He raked his fingers through his hair, sighed. “No.”

Finally. They were getting somewhere.

“No, friendship isn’t all you want from me or, no, you don’t want more from me than friendship?” Where was her nerve coming from? She’d never confronted Simon like this. Not until the very end. Not until she’d been made the laughing stock of the hospital for months on end by his cheating heart.

“I like you.”

Not an answer to her question. “You like me?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I’m taking things slowly.”

Slowly? Turtles moved faster than he did. Based on the speed which the snapping turtle had high-tailed it back into the lake, turtles moved a lot faster.

“Why?”

“Because I like you.”

Okay, but they weren’t in first grade.

“Yes, we’ve established that but, Levi, you haven’t even held my hand. Not unless we count you demonstrating proper pole technique a few seconds ago.”

“I have held your hand. At the picnic, after I saved you,” he reminded, a tic twitching at his jaw. “You should appreciate the fact I’m taking my time.”

“Maybe I should,” she admitted, surprised he remembered holding her hand following her ice-cube disaster. “But, honestly, I’m beginning to wonder if I’m going to qualify for Medicare benefits prior to actually having your lips against mine.”

His gaze snapped to hers, a predatory lethalness shining there she’d never seen before. A lethalness that thrilled her, made her want to plunge into danger.

“I wanted you to kiss me a few minutes ago and I thought you were going to, but you choked.” Yes, she was playing a dangerous game, like poking a stick at a lion, but how else was she going to hear his roar? And after all, wasn’t she a player now? “Not what I expected from a man with your reputation and who has warned me that he isn’t nice.”

He scowled. “You’d have me try to get in your pants on our first date?”

“This isn’t our first date.” Lord, where was her boldness coming from? She hadn’t listened to that many motivational tapes. Well, she had, but she hadn’t been convinced they were working. “Which means you can do more than just kiss me.”

His pupils narrowed. “You’d have me in your pants on our second date?”

What would a playgirl say here? Her gut instinct was, no, she wouldn’t have him in her pants on date two, but that was the old Madison speaking. What about the new Madison?

“Perhaps.” Lowering her lashes, she pouted in what she hoped was a seductive move, hoping she didn’t look a fool.

His jaw flexed, his chest rose and fell. “I didn’t want to scare you away by moving too fast.”

“You think not moving at all is the only pace I can handle?” Frowning, she tightened her grip on her fishing pole, telling herself she would not hit him with it if he said the wrong thing. She wasn’t a violent person. Apparently fishing brought out the she-woman in her.

“No,” he answered slowly, studying her. “But maybe it’s the only pace I can handle where you’re concerned.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “I want you so much if I touch you I won’t be able to stop until I’ve had you. I’d like to enjoy what’s happening between us rather than rushing to the finish line.”

“Oh.”

“I like women. Always have. Always will. At the moment, I like you in particular.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Although I’m beginning to wonder why.”

She looked at where the red and white bobber floated on the shiny water surface. One. Two. Three. She counted to ten in her head. Back again. No good. She couldn’t get what he’d said out of her head. He wanted her. Really wanted her. To the point he was restraining himself.