What She Really Wants for Christmas. Debbi Rawlins

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      “An internist.”

      “How did you get the consulting gig for Heartbeat?”

      “The producer is an old frat brother of mine.”

      “From med school?”

      He chuckled. “Undergraduate. You don’t have time for a fraternity in med school. Between working and studying I was lucky to get four hours of sleep a night.”

      “Here I thought you were one of those rich kids who had a trust fund.”

      “Yeah, right.”

      “Seriously, I did. You seem the preppy type.”

      “Bad assumption. I just finally paid off my student loans, thanks to the consulting job.”

      “I still have ten thousand outstanding myself.” Liza had no idea why she’d offered the information. It galled her to know that part of her inheritance had been used to buy Rick’s bike instead of making her debt-free.

      “That’s not bad.”

      “I guess not. Though I don’t like to owe any money.”

      “Me, too. My parents scraped together every penny to pay down their mortgage. The day they made their last payment they had a huge barbecue in the backyard and invited all the relatives and neighbors.”

      Liza smiled at the fondness in his voice. “You have a big family?”

      “Two brothers. Lots of cousins, most of whom live here in Atlanta. How about you?”

      “No siblings. Except Eve and Jane. They’re like—” She cut herself off, horrified at what she’d revealed. It was Evan’s fault. He was just too damn easy to talk to.

      He looked clearly curious, but graciously filled the conversation gap. “My father is retiring in three months. He and Mom are thinking about buying a small condo in Florida but they’re not sure where. You’re from Jacksonville, aren’t you?”

      “I was a kid when I lived there, and then I left after college.” She quickly picked up her drink and took a cooling sip. She didn’t like this warm squishy feeling of gratitude. Evan didn’t need information on Florida. He could’ve asked her all kinds of awkward questions. Not that she’d have answered, but still.

      “Are your parents living there—in Jacksonville?”

      “My dad died last year. My mom is there.”

      She didn’t know where exactly, but that wasn’t something she’d share. Besides, with his background, he wouldn’t understand what it was like growing up with an alcoholic and a pill-popper.

      “I’m sorry about your father.”

      “Yeah. Guess it was his time.” She looked away so she wouldn’t see the revulsion on Evan’s face. She hadn’t meant to sound so callous, but a life of hard drinking never ended well. When she finally looked at Evan again, he smiled kindly. It annoyed her. Why was he so nice? What the hell did he want from her? She didn’t deserve his kindness. Or anyone else’s. Didn’t he understand that?

      “You getting hungry?”

      “Why?”

      “Well,” he said slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching, “it’s approaching the dinner hour and traditionally people eat a meal at that time.”

      “I’m not traditional.”

      “True.” He loosened the knot on his tie. “That’s what I like about you.”

      “Hmm.” She couldn’t come up with anything witty to say. She was too busy watching his long fingers work, and noticing the smattering of hair across the back of his hands. His skin was tan and more rugged-looking than she’d expect of a doctor. Probably belonged to a golf or tennis club.

      “Liza?”

      “What?”

      He frowned at her. “I asked if you’d like to go to dinner.”

      “Dinner?”

      “Uh-huh, you know, eating.”

      She glanced at her watch, shocked at how much time had passed. Yet she hadn’t gotten a word out of him about the scuttlebutt around the station. Rick had been sleeping when she left, and she wanted him to stay that way until she was safely in her apartment. “I can’t. I’m leaving after this drink.”

      “All right.” He looked disappointed as he leaned back in his chair. His shoulders really were quite broad. She wondered what he’d be like without the jacket. “Another time, maybe?”

      She nodded absently. He kind of looked like a jock. Not her favorite. But he definitely seemed as if he were in shape. The most exercise she got these days was climbing the stairs to her apartment.

      “Your enthusiasm is heartening.”

      “What?”

      He smiled sadly. “One of the other things I like about you is your directness. If you don’t want a repeat, go ahead and say so. You’re not going to hurt my feelings.”

      “That’s not it.” She cleared her throat. What a great opening he’d handed her. “It’s this whole lawsuit thing making me crazy. I’m not myself.”

      “Ah. I understand.”

      She fingered her straw, keeping her gaze lowered, hoping she sounded casual. “Have you heard anything?”

      “About what?”

      “The lawsuit. My attorney thinks they’re about to make another offer.”

      “Good.” He slowly set down his beer, clearly avoiding her gaze. “I’m sure everyone wants to put this behind them.”

      “But you haven’t heard anything?”

      This time he looked her straight in the eye. “Is that why you called? So you could pump me for information?”

      “Yes.”

      He didn’t even blink at her bluntness. “Sorry you wasted your time.” His expression grim, he reached into his pocket. “And mine.”

      “Wait. Initially I did want to meet with you so that I could find out what was going on.”

      He pulled out some bills from his silver-and-turquoise money clip and picked up the check the waitress had left.

      Liza plucked the slip of paper out of his hand. “I called you. I’m paying.”

      “Will that assuage your guilt?”

      “Had you been listening, you’d realize that I qualified my answer. This evening turned out to be a pleasant surprise.”

      His mouth curved in a patronizing smile.

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