Hatfield and McCoy by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online

glad to be sitting across the table from McCoy at a well-lit booth rather than in a more romantic, candle-brimming room.
    She needed distance with McCoy.
    Holly, it seemed, didn’t.
    Even after McCoy ordered his steak and Julie ordered her salad, the young woman hovered until Julie formally introduced her to McCoy. Julie felt annoyed at the way Holly looked at McCoy, as if she had walked in with Mel Gibson or his equivalent.
    â€œAre you staying in the area, Mr. McCoy?” Holly asked.
    â€œMaybe, I’m not sure yet.”
    â€œWell, we certainly hope that you do. Don’t we, Julie?”
    â€œOh, sure, yes, of course,” Julie said blithely. McCoy cracked a crooked smile, which probably caused Holly’s heart to flutter. Finally, another couple came into the restaurant, and Julie and McCoy were left to sip their coffee in peace.
    â€œA salad, huh?” McCoy said, pressing his fingertips to his temple. “Let me see. A vegetarian?”
    â€œNo,” she said, trying to keep an edge out of her voice. “Just a very nervous person who is too worried about a little girl to dream of digesting a steak.”
    McCoy’s hands moved idly over the heavy white coffee mug before him. They were large hands, with very long fingers. Well-kept hands. The fingertips were calloused, but the nails were neat and clean and bluntly clipped. To Julie’s distress, she found herself imagining those hands against her skin. Covering her fingers. Moving softly against her arm.
    She looked quickly into his eyes as he said, “I’m worried, too.”
    Julie would have responded, but Holly was back. She set a nice-size Caesar salad in front of Julie and a sizzling steak platter in front of McCoy.
    Then the young woman proceeded to fuss. Did he want steak sauce? Sour cream for his potato?
    â€œButter for his beans?” Julie suggested pleasantly.
    â€œPardon?” Holly said, wide-eyed and innocent. “Oh.” She blushed. “Oh, I know! More coffee.”
    She brought the pot. She filled McCoy’s cup and forgot all about Julie’s.
    â€œHolly!”
    â€œOh, sorry,” she said as she filled Julie’s cup.
    McCoy studied Julie when Holly left. “So the little blond angel has claws,” he said softly.
    â€œThat’s right,” Julie agreed pleasantly. “And best you remember it.”
    â€œShould I?”
    She arched a brow.
    â€œWell, are we going to be together again for any reason in the future?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Julie said evenly. “Are we?”
    â€œYou’re the psychic.”
    â€œBut you don’t believe in me.”
    â€œAll right. Let me ask you this. Is Tracy going to be all right?”
    Julie looked at him across the table. “I don’t know.”
    â€œThen …”
    â€œI told you before. I’m not God. I can’t see everything.”
    â€œThen what good is any of it?” he demanded, his tone suddenly so harsh that her fingers curled tightly around her cup. Instinct warned her that she should jump up and run.
    â€œSometimes, Mr. McCoy,” she said quietly, meeting his hot silver gaze, “sometimes my ability can do an awful lot of good. Sometimes I can see people, I can see them exactly as they were … or are. Not every time, but sometimes. I don’t know why I have this gift. When I am able to do something, I don’t question it. I’m thankful for whatever the ability is. That’s it. There’s no more to it. I try. I try with all my heart. And on occasion, I have been able to save a life. And to me, Mr. McCoy, just one life is worth it all!”
    She expected some burst of emotion from him in return. She didn’t get it. He stared at her for what seemed the longest time, then he set his fork and knife into his steak again. His eyes were on his meal. “Just one life,” he murmured.
    â€œPardon?”
    â€œNothing. Aren’t you