style="font-size:15px;"> “Why would I want to do that?” But her gaze was on his mouth, so maybe her question was a rhetorical one.
He laughed and again she felt the pull of his body.
“You should give me a chance to make this up to you by taking you to the hospital Christmas party next weekend.”
“I can take myself.”
“You can, but you shouldn’t have to.”
“To think I need a man to do things for me would be a mistake. I started wearing my big-girl panties a long time ago.”
His eyes twinkled. “Prove it.”
“You wish.”
“Without a doubt.”
Yet he hadn’t attempted to kiss her, hadn’t taken up her offer to come inside her place where he could have attempted to persuade her into something physical. Instead, he’d said she could convince him to change his plans. He’d given her control, left the power in her hands about what happened next.
“I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning, McKenzie.”
“Have fun at your party.”
“You could go with me and have fun, too.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”
His brows made a V. “My style?”
“What if you met someone you wanted to take home with you?”
“I already have met someone I want to take home with me. She keeps telling me no.”
“I’m not talking about me.”
“I am talking about you.”
Exasperation filled her. She wasn’t sure if it was from his insistence that he wanted her or the fact that he hadn’t kissed her. Maybe both. “Would you please be serious?”
His thumb slid across her cheek in a slow caress. “Make no mistake, McKenzie. I am serious when I say that I’d like to explore the chemistry between us.”
Shivers that had nothing to do with the December weather goose-pimpled her body.
“Why should I take you seriously?” she challenged. “We’ve been standing on my porch for five minutes and you haven’t threatened mouth-to-mouth again. Much less actually made a move. I don’t know what to think where you’re concerned.”
That’s when he did what she’d thought he would do all along. It had taken her throwing down a gauntlet of challenge to prompt him into action. Lance bent just enough to close the gap between their mouths.
The pressure of his lips was gentle, warm, electric and made time stand still.
Her breath caught and yet he made her pant with want for more. She went to deepen the kiss, to search his lips for answers as to why he made her nervous, why he made her feel so alive, why he made her want to run and stay put at the same time. She closed her eyes and relaxed against the hard length of his body. He felt good. Her hands went to his shoulders, his broad shoulders that her fingers wanted to dig into.
“Good night, McKenzie,” he whispered against her lips, making her eyes pop open.
“Unless you text or call saying you want to see me before then, I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning. Good luck with your run tomorrow.” With that he stepped back, stared into her eyes for a few brief seconds then headed toward his car.
“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you,” she called from where she stood on the porch.
He just laughed. “Thank you for my mouth-to-mouth, McKenzie. I’ve never felt more alive. Sweet dreams.”
“You’re not welcome,” she muttered under her breath while he got into his car, then had the audacity to wave goodbye before pulling out of her driveway. Blasted man.
McKenzie’s dreams weren’t sweet.
They were filled with hot, sweaty, passionate kisses.
So much so that when she woke, glanced at her phone and saw that it was only a little after midnight, she wanted to scream in protest. She’d been asleep for less than an hour. Ugh.
She should text him to tell him to get out of her dreams and to stay out. She didn’t want him there.
Wouldn’t he get a kick out of that?
Instead, she closed her eyes and prayed.
Please go back to sleep.
Please don’t dream of Lance.
Please no more visions of Lance kissing me and me begging for so much more instead of watching him drive away.
Please don’t let me beg a man for anything. I don’t want to be like my mother.
I won’t be like my mother.
EDITH WINTERS CAME into the clinic at least once a month, always with a new chief complaint. Although she had all the usual aging complaints that were all too real, most of the time McKenzie thought the eighty-year-old was lonely and came in to be around other humans who cared about her.
The woman lived alone, had no local family, and her only relative as far as McKenzie knew was a son who lived in Florida and rarely came home to visit.
“How long have these symptoms been bothering you, Mrs. Winters?”
“Since last week.”
Last week. Because when you had severe abdominal pain and no bowel movements for four days it was normal to wait a week to seek care. Not.
“I didn’t want to bother anyone.”
“Any time a symptom is severe and persistent, you need to be checked further.”
“I would have come sooner if I’d gotten worse.”
Seriously, she’d seen Edith less than a month ago and it had only been two weeks prior to that she’d been in the clinic for medication refills. Severe abdominal pain and no bowel movement was a lot more than what usually prompted her to come to the clinic. “What made you decide you needed to be seen?”
The woman had called and, although McKenzie’s schedule had been full, she’d agreed for the woman to be checked. She’d grown quite fond of the little lady and figured she’d be prescribing a hug and reassurance that everything was fine.
“There was blood when I spit up this morning.”
McKenzie’s gaze lifted from her laptop. “What do you mean, when you spat up?”
Her nurse had said nothing about spitting
