The M.D. Meets His Match. Marie Ferrarella
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“Homecomings have that effect,” he agreed.
Someone bumped into April from behind and pushed her into him. An amber wave rose from her mug and Jimmy found himself being liberally christened with the beer he’d just handed her.
Amused, slightly embarrassed, she looked at the resulting mess. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Jimmy brushed a few golden droplets away from his shirt, but the rest were quickly being absorbed by the dark blue material, creating an irregular-shaped stain on his chest.
Grinning, he shrugged it off. “No harm done.” He looked at the throng of people behind her. It appeared as if everyone in Hades and the surrounding area had somehow managed to pack themselves into the saloon. “But I think we might want to step out of range.” With his hand against the small of her back, he steered April toward another section that was only slightly less crowded.
April glanced across her shoulder toward where she’d last seen her family, all the way over on the other side of the saloon. Max had disappeared, as had June. Only Gran was there with Yuri. Looking up, the older woman made eye contact with her and smiled, nodding.
She knew that look. It was approval. Gran had never been stingy with hers, but this time her approval had found the wrong mark. April shook her head vigorously before looking away.
Jimmy noted the exchange. He bent his head toward her to be heard. “Is that your grandmother?”
April wrapped her hands around the mug and, wrinkling her nose, took a sip before answering. Though she wasn’t sure why, she suddenly found herself in need of fortification herself and this would have to do. “Yes, that’s Gran.”
He could just barely pick up the affection in her voice. Seeing as how she was trying hard to appear removed, she had to care a great deal for the older woman. “Luc told me a lot about her. She sounds like a wonderful woman.”
“She is.” April turned her attention back to the man who seemed determined to remain with her. It was a lot less disconcerting to look at him than to feel his breath on her neck. “You seem to have gotten a great deal of information out of Jean-Luc. As I recall, before I left, if he strung three words together in a sentence every few weeks, we called him chatty.”
Jimmy laughed and despite the noise in the saloon, the sound wrapped itself around her like a warm scarf on a cold winter’s day. Maybe she’d absorbed more alcoholic fumes than she’d realized, April thought.
“He’s loosened up some, being married to my sister.” Jimmy was just repeating what Ike had told him. “But he’d have to if only in self-defense. Alison tends to be bossy if she’s given her head.”
Alison didn’t have the market cornered on that, April thought, glancing at Jimmy. She moved so that he was forced to drop his hand from her back. “Another family trait?”
Jimmy nodded, downing a little more beer. He set the empty mug on the closest surface. “My sister Lily’s the same way. Could be why she has trouble maintaining a relationship.”
“Meaning that men prefer women who agree with them and who they can walk on.”
The man tending bar slid another full mug his way. Catching it, Jimmy nodded his thanks and took a mouthful. “Didn’t say that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But you implied it.”
The look he gave her was innocent. He studied her in silence for a moment. Was she deliberately trying to instigate a fight between them? The thought amused him more than anything else.
“Can’t see how. I was just saying that bossing people around never makes for a good relationship no matter which party’s doing the bossing, male or female.” He took another long sip before continuing. “Never liked walking on people myself. I like a woman who can give as good as she gets.”
Their eyes locked and she had the distinct impression that he was putting her on notice. Though she tried to block it, a small, unidentifiable shiver ran down the length of her spine.
“Then you’ve come to the right place, Dr. Quintano. The women in Hades definitely aren’t pushovers,” April told him with a touch of pride. “They’ve learned to stand up for themselves.”
His eyes were touching her, making her uneasy. She became aware of the severe lack of air within the packed saloon. Jimmy’s smile was easy, slipping over his lips in slow motion and in direct reverse proportion to the rhythm assimilated by her pulse.
“Glad to hear that.”
Yeah, she’d just bet he was. April cleared her throat, then set her mug down on a cluttered table meant for two. “And you’re wrong.”
Jimmy cocked his head, his eyes on her mouth. “About?”
She shouldn’t have had any of the beer. There had to have been something in it. Beer didn’t affect her this way, making her head spin and her pulse race, certainly not a few sips.
“Homecomings,” she told him stiffly. She realized that she wasn’t exactly making sense. She was losing the thread of what she was saying herself. “At least about this being one.”
“But this was your home,” he pointed out, “and you’ve come back.”
“Just to help out.”
He gave another careless shrug. “You’ve come back. The details don’t matter.”
Now there she had him. It was her turn to smile confidentially. “Oh, but they do,” she corrected with a liberal dose of passion. “Details always matter. They’re what makes one thing different from another.”
His grin merely served to irk her. “You like to argue, don’t you?”
Her chin went up defensively again, and again, he found it tempting. Jimmy seriously toyed with the idea of stealing a kiss, but knew it would just get him slapped royally. He could wait.
“No, I don’t like to argue,” she contradicted. “I like things to be perfectly clear and up front. No lies, no deceptions, no illusions.”
Her words struck a chord. He regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment. “Sounds like someone did a number on your optimism.”
She didn’t like being analyzed, especially not by a stranger who had no idea what he was talking about. “My optimism is just fine, thank you.”
“Good.” He placed his mug next to hers on the table. The glass came precariously close to falling before Jimmy steadied it. “Then you won’t mind dancing with me.”
Maybe she hadn’t heard right. “What does one thing have to do with another?”
He wrapped his fingers around her hand. “Your optimism will make you optimistic about my dancing ability.”
The next thing she knew, as the protest formed on her lips, she