Midnight Hour by Debra Dixon Read Free Book Online Page B

back. Sidestepping chemistry was the easiest way to avoid lust, and over the years she’d done a good job of picking and choosing whom she dated. If Mercy was more than mildly attracted to a man, she simply didn’t go out with him. Unfortunately, Nick wasn’t like the other men she’d politely sidestepped in the past.
    He didn’t appear to be satisfied with a pat on the head and being sent on his way. He liked to discuss things; he wanted answers and reasons. Nick obviously knew women, knew she ran from chemistry, andhe seemed to think it was funny. Damn, that made her mad!
    It wasn’t as if she were a spinster who’d never had chances. She’d had chances! Lots of them. He had no right to waltz into her life and in a few short hours have her feeling as though she’d behaved like a coward—all because she hadn’t been willing to take any of those chances.
    “Come on, Mercy,” he pressed gently. “You can tell me. What scares you? Lust … or love?”
    “Doctors. Doctors scare me the most,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “Especially the ones who think they know absolutely everything about lust and love, which is impossible since they’re generally too damn busy saving the world from disease and pestilence to notice much of anything beyond the hospital door!”
    Unruffled, Nick said, “Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”
    “No.” Mercy shook her head as she got up and tugged her white cotton shirt firmly over the waistband of her shorts. “My opinion is about on the money. You see, I’m an expert on doctors. My parents are doctors. All their friends are doctors. Every doctor I’ve ever met has one grand passion, and it’s medicine. So don’t sit there and shake your head, thinking I don’t understand doctors. Or for that matter lust and love. Because neither do you, Dr. Devereaux. Your grand passion is medicine, not lust or love.”
    “You’re wrong, Mercy.”
    “I don’t think so. You want some coffee? I want some coffee. Don’t get up.”
    “Black and strong enough to stand a spoon in,”Nick instructed before she hightailed it out of the living room.
    While he hated to see her go, he also knew he’d never make it back to Louisville unless he got some caffeine into his personal carburetor. When he closed his eyes to wait, he whispered softly, “Ah, Mercy, you may know everything there is to know about Louisville doctors, but what do you know about Cajun doctors?”
    “Oh, for God’s sake,” murmured Mercy as she returned to the living room with two mugs of steaming French roast. She angled her wrist and checked the time. Nine-thirty.
    Nick Devereaux slept peacefully in her favorite chair, arms dangling over the rests and legs supported by the cushioned footstool. Sleep softened the intensity of his expression, transforming him from gorgeously hard-edged to boyishly appealing. For once, Mercy found she could look her fill without having to face the amused glimmer in Nick’s eyes.
    When he’d put his shirt back on, he hadn’t bothered to fasten the first couple of buttons. Tanned skin and the glitter of his gold chain contrasted sharply with the crisp white of his shirt, reminding Mercy of the thoughts that had run through her mind as he had stripped to the waist to fix her pipe. He might be irritating as hell, but he was one incredible piece of God’s handiwork.
    Mercy tiptoed around the sofa and set the cups down on the end table, using a news magazine as a coaster. Sighing didn’t help much, but Mercy didit anyway. What was she supposed to do with the man?
    Sending him out into the rainy, summer night with an hour’s drive ahead of him seemed heartless and was probably dangerous as well. Nick hadn’t complained of long shifts, but he was obviously bone-tired. Too tired to drive anywhere, her conscience added. Why else would he have collapsed so readily in the chair of a near stranger?
    If she woke him, he’d be too stubborn to check into the local motel.