Honey by Jenna Jameson Read Free Book Online Page B

“If you think you can persuade me to file some sort of … report, you’re—”
    â€œBarking up the wrong tree, sure, got it. Let’s just say I don’t feel like we ever got to finish our conversation the other day.” Given how skittish she was, the soft sell was definitely the way to proceed.
    â€œOh, I assure you, Dr. Sandler, I finished.”
    He thought again to her snappy comeback and found himself fighting a smile. “Okay, in that case, let’s start a new topic thread: art, music, film—your pick.”
    â€œDo you really expect me to believe you want to go out to just … talk?”
    â€œIt’s coffee—okay, tea—not a marriage proposal, and why not? You’d be doing me a favor. Other than blood relatives, everybody I know works in some capacity in this hospital. You’d be helping to broaden my horizons.”
    She cast a quick glance across the room to Winterthur, thankfully still stuck in line. “Does it somehow escape you that I have a boyfriend?”
    â€œA boyfriend with a wedding ring and an itchy backhand—yep, I totally see where you’re coming from. You wouldn’t want to let a gem like him get away.”
    â€œIf you’re going to simply insult me—”
    â€œI’m not insulting anybody. Okay, well maybe the sadistic cheater you’re seeing, but otherwise we’re good. So what do you say to coffee—oops, I mean tea? Think of it as striking a blow for independence. If he asks who you’re meeting, you can say I’m your very good friend, Marcie.”
    Dark brows drew upward. “Marcie?”
    â€œWhat, I don’t strike you as a Marcie? C’mon, you’re hurting me, girl.”
    Her full mouth twitched. “A Marguerite, maybe, but you’re definitely no Marcie.”
    â€œMarguerite, I can live with it. So it’s settled. You and Marguerite are meeting up for your weekly tea talk … say, tomorrow at two?”
    She hesitated. Considering the circumstances, anything other than an outright refusal had to be a positive sign.
    â€œThe Starbucks on Park is pretty close to you.”
    What looked a lot like fear flared across her face. “Not there.”
    Had he been alone, Marc would have taken the opportunity to thump himself on the forehead. The venue he’d suggested was more than nearby. It was a stone’s throw from her building, which made it too close for comfort—or safety.
    â€œI prefer Tea &—”
    â€œMiss me?” Drew broke in, coming up beside them.
    Honey started.
    â€œJesus, you look like you saw a ghost.” Drew passed her a fluted champagne glass. “Am I interrupting something?” He darted a suspicious look between her and Marc.
    Taking the drink, she shook her head. “Of course not, darling. We were just making small talk.”
    Winterthur divided his attention between them, his upper lip curling. “Small talk, huh? How’s that going?” His stare stopped at Honey, and though she stayed rooted to her spot, Marc sensed her inwardly shrinking away.
    Clearly the clichéd excuse wasn’t cutting it. As was often the case in the ER, a bold, split-second decision was called for—and he was the only one of them in a position to make it. “Actually, we were catching up.”
    Drew slanted him a puzzled look. “Catching up? I don’t follow.”
    â€œWe met before,” Marc answered, “a few weeks ago.”
    Beside him, he heard Honey’s sharp intake of breath.
    The son of a bitch slugged back his drink. “Really, how’s that?”
    â€œI treated Miss Gladwell after her fall.”
    Four sheets to the wind though Winterthur might be, still he stiffened. “Small world.”
    â€œI know, right?” Marc shifted to look at Honey. She might not have seen a ghost but she’d gone as pale as one, her red painted lips the only discernible