The Right Medicine by Ginny Baird Read Free Book Online

have his head for certain. Socializing with the clients. Last time he'd done it, he'd nearly lost his job. Didn't help that Cindy had threatened to smash a whole wall of designer frames when he'd finally called things off.
    "Can't." Marie sprang from her seat like a frightened cat. "Oh my gosh," she said, studying the clock on the wall, "twelve-thirty! Gotta be getting back."
    "I'm sure they'll understand at..." David waited, hoping she'd fill in the blank.
    "Books & Bistro," Marie added hastily, making her way toward the counter and digging for the checkbook in her purse. She bit into her bottom lip, realizing what she'd just done.
    So now he knew where she worked, David thought, ringing up her purchase. And it was right around the corner.
    "Well," he said, eyeing the soft curves of her body beneath her figure-hugging sweater dress. "You couldn't have overrun your lunch hour by that much. Surely, they won't throw the book at you."
    Marie looked up at a smile brighter than sunlight on freshly fallen snow. His crisply pressed shirt did little to disguise his delectable shoulders and broad chest. The flat plane of his stomach that ran in a flawless line right down to...
    Book! The only books Marie should have thrown at her were all those romances she wasted so much time reading. Silly escapism. Nothing like that ever happened in real life.
    His hand grazed hers as he passed over a fabric-covered glasses case. "Hope you have better luck this time."
    Marie laid down her checkbook and steadied herself against the counter. What was it in those clear, blue eyes that turned her knees to butter?
    "With the glasses," David said, thinking he'd read her look. She'd been burned, that's what it was.
    Bad luck with men, in a town like Covesville where the women outnumbered the male population ten to one, was commonplace in these parts. And David, he realized with a sense of shame, was partially to blame for those dismal statistics. He'd had plenty of opportunity with women. Plenty of opportunity, that was, to break their hearts. But why in the world was he thinking of that now?
    Not that David ever tried to hurt anybody intentionally. It just appeared to be an unhappy by-product of his becoming romantically involved. He couldn't seem to help it. No matter what he tried to tell himself, there was something about the notion of a woman demanding a commitment that made him want to cut and run.
    "Thanks," she said, accepting the paperwork along with the receipt. "I'll try to be more careful."
    Then David realized she was running out on him. He panicked and stepped in front of her, blocking her sumptuous body with his broad frame.
    "Is there something I've forgotten?" she asked, looking up with doe-like eyes.
    It took every ounce of his strength not to reach out and touch her. Not to find some excuse to...
    David's hands were halfway to the edge of her wire frames before he realized what he was doing and stopped short.
    "Just wanted to make sure the fit's okay," David said, his hands motioning in the air surrounding Marie's shoulders.
    Marie smiled shyly. "Couldn't be better," she answered, her voice an inexplicable squeak.
    Up close, he smelled as good as he looked. All musky and exotic, like some forbidden, sensual body oil sold in the back room of a Moroccan bazaar.
    Marie shook her head, thinking she should have known better than to read the last chapter of Arabian Lust over a donut at her ten-thirty coffee break. There was something about this man, this tall hunk of masculinity, that made her feel very female. Maybe it was his look which seemed to strip her down, made her entertain fantasies of a long, silk veil and a privately viewed belly dance—with an audience of only one.
    A short breath escaped her, and Marie brought her palms to her cheeks which she knew were flaming red.
    "Well, good," he said, looking deeply in her eyes. "Just as long as we're clear on that."
    "Clear?" Marie asked, feeling as if she'd missed something.
    "That the