A Home for the M.D.

“She would want you to be happy, sweetie. We all want that for you.”

“And I am, thanks, Mom. I hope you and Dad are, too.”

“We’re getting by,” her mother replied vaguely. “I should probably go. We thought we’d go out for a little while this evening. There’s a nice little tavern nearby. Good music, nice people. We stop in occasionally for a drink.”

Probably more than occasionally, Jacqui thought, but that was their business, not hers. “Okay, well, have a good time.”

“We will, sweetie. Thanks. Um—talk to you soon?”

“Sure. I’ll let you know when I finalize my vacation plans.”

“I’d like that. I— Goodbye, Jacqui.”

“’Bye, Mom.”

Tossing the phone aside, she shoved a suddenly weary hand through her hair. She couldn’t help thinking of the lively conversations she’d overheard in the Llewellyn and Baker households—all the teasing and squabbling and I-love-yous. She did love her parents, she mused somberly, but such expressions of emotion had never been easy for them.

She glanced at her watch. Almost 6:00 p.m. She wasn’t really hungry, but she was too restless to sit any longer with her knitting. Setting the project aside, she rose, glancing toward the little kitchen across the room. She’d stopped by the grocery store on the way home, so she had a few things to prepare. Maybe she’d see if anything looked appetizing.

She had taken only a couple of steps in that direction when someone knocked on her door. Blinking in surprise, she turned. She was popular today, she thought, wondering who was dropping by unannounced. Probably the landlord, making sure everything was satisfactory. He’d been very grateful for her pa

tience during the renovation; because she’d had another place to stay, she hadn’t pressed for immediate action as she was sure some of her neighbors had done.

Glancing through the peephole from force of long habit, she swallowed a groan and rested her head against the door for a moment before opening it. So much for the relaxing, decision-free evening she had envisioned.

“Hello, Mitch.”

He stood in the open doorway, searching her face as if to decipher her reaction to his surprise call. “Hi. I got away from work a little earlier than usual today. I hope this isn’t a bad time for me to drop by.”

Without answering, she moved aside to let him in, closing the door behind him before turning to look at him. He was the one who’d shown up at her home out of the blue; she figured it was up to him to start whatever conversation he’d come here to have.

She was aware that her apartment was hardly luxurious, especially in comparison to the places they had toured last Saturday. She’d never visited his duplex, but it had probably been more upscale than this little furnished rental. Still, she refused to be self-conscious about her modest surroundings. The apartment was clean, the neighborhood lower income but relatively safe, and she could easily afford the rent and still put away savings every month. It worked for her.

His mouth quirked, as though he was amused by her rather challenging silence. “Okay if I sit down?”

So maybe she wasn’t being the most gracious hostess. That was his fault for showing up without an invitation, she told herself, even as she relented. “Of course. Have a seat. Can I get you anything? I can make coffee.”

He chuckled. “There you go again. You aren’t on the job now, Jacqui. No need to use your Mary Poppins voice.”

“Mary Poppins wasn’t a housekeeper—she was a nanny,” she muttered, vaguely embarrassed.

His grin widened. “Sorry. You’re the one who’s always making movie analogies. Guess I’m not as good at it.”

His teasing was making her relax a bit, as he probably intended. She motioned toward the couch. “Sit down, Mitch. Tell me why you’re here.”

Catching her hand, he tugged her down beside him when he took a seat. “I think you know why I’m here.”

She moistened her lips. “Not entirely,” she said honestly.

He reached out to toy with the ends of her short hair, a gesture that appeared to be becoming a habit for him. It seemed little more than an excuse to brush his fingers against her cheek, leaving trails of sensation behind. “Because I can’t stay away from you.”

All the differences between them flashed through her mind, all the reasons why this was such a bad idea.

He searched her face, probably trying to read her emotions. “We’re on your turf now,” he reminded her. “All you have to do is ask me to leave and I will. No argument.”

Despite all her qualms, all her logical, sensible warnings to herself, she simply couldn’t make herself utter the words that would send him away. Not tonight. She sighed lightly and leaned toward him. “Don’t go,” she murmured.

He had her in his arms, his mouth on hers, before she’d even finished speaking.