The M.D. Courts His Nurse by Meagan McKinney Read Free Book Online Page B

arrogance.
    He downshifted for the last traffic light in Summerfield. Again his hand brushed her leg. She really didn’t have much room to move it. It was chilly in May after sunset, and she wore only a light sweater. When they stopped at the red light he shrugged out of his jacket and draped its comforting warmth over her shoulders.
    â€œYou don’t have to—”
    â€œYou’ll need it,” he insisted, cutting her off. “I like to drive fast.”
    She quickly realized he meant what he said.
    He was an excellent driver who appreciated the challenges of a winding road. The old Alfa Romeo roared through the star-speckled Montana night, flashing in and out of dark patches of moon shadow. They soared throughdips that made Rebecca feel exciting loss-of-gravity tickles in her stomach.
    Once outside the Summerfield limits, only the dash lights cast any illumination on them. She noticed how his taut forearm muscles leaped like machine cables each time he shifted—which he seemed to do a lot. And each time, his hand brushed her nyloned calf.
    Again she told herself she really couldn’t move in the cramped compartment. But in truth she liked the way the gearshift vibrated against her leg, the way the engine pulsed and throbbed through her soles, and the power surges of the accelerating motor were strangely thrilling, as was the increasingly electric contact of his fingers brushing her calf….
    She caught herself just in time. She must shake off this erotic lull and curb such dangerous thoughts. She was still in her…excitable mood of earlier tonight, before Rick’s onslaught of trivia had killed it. She mustn’t forget this was not some hot fantasy man beside her, but Dr. Dry-As-Dust, surgical snob extraordinaire. She would only get into trouble wanting him. He would be just like Brian—thinking she was good enough to use but not good enough for forever.
    Conversation was impractical in the engine roar and wind noise of the open road. But two miles west of Summerfield they got stuck behind a slow-moving logging truck.
    Whether he’s dry as dust or not, I still owe the guy an apology, she reminded herself. Again memory gave her a stab as she recalled how she and Lois had burst out laughing at him earlier today, how that nice smile died on his lips.
    â€œDr. Saville—”
    â€œPlease call me John. We aren’t in the office.” He snapped it out like an order, not a friendly request.
    â€œJohn, Lois and I weren’t sharing any private joke earlier today when we had our giggle attack. We were just in a silly mood.”
    â€œLook, if you’re worried I’ll change my mind about the raise, don’t.”
    His curt, sarcastic tone made a storm of anger rise within her.
    â€œThat’s what I get,” she said in a voice caustic as acid, “for trying to be human with you.”
    His handsome jaw went slack with surprise at her peppery retort. But the remark had brought back his earlier humiliation. He had tried to meet her halfway, and she’d laughed in his face like he was a fool.
    He clamped his teeth rather than tell her what he felt like saying.
    They finally got a clear stretch of road, and he flew past the logging truck, exhaust roaring. His fast, angry driving suited Rebecca’s mood, too.
    The silence also gave her a chance to reconsider her earlier suspicion. A date arranged by Hazel, a suddenly flat tire, a supposed emergency phone call for the doctor…
    â€œWhich way?” His curt voice cut into her thoughts as they reached the town limits of Mystery.
    â€œGo through town then turn right on Bluebush Road,” she told him. “It’s the Sagewood Apartments, a couple miles out of town.”
    Minutes later he braked to a skidding stop in front of her building and waited impatiently, motor running, for her to shrug out of his jacket and get out. He refused to help her out, and the race car had not been designed