Medical Romance July 2016 Books 1-6. Lynne Marshall

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      Grace took a deep breath and as they reached the edge of the pool, ushered him about a foot higher, into somewhat more shallow water. “Again,” she said, dealing with the therapy first while working out what she wanted to say. Considering the way they’d been circling one another for days, she hadn’t expected him to approach this head-on. He wanted it all out in the open again, or so he claimed. No matter how badly that had gone last time. And she was completely out of instincts on it. It had all boiled down to simple facts: he enjoyed kissing her. He’d wanted her then, he still did now. That wasn’t going to change because she found her spine again and tried to convince him.

      “I’ve spent years wanting that night to have gone differently and I want to know. I want my night. With you.”

      “Grace—”

      “Just wait. I know what you’re going to say. We can’t because of Nick, who I’m sure is putting just as much—if not more—pressure on you than he has been on me to stay apart. He said you’re a player and I will just get hurt. Just like your last girlfriend was.”

      “He’s right. About us. You’re built for forever, and I won’t ever marry. It’s not for me. So you would get hurt.”

      “You’re not a player. You’re a serial dater, but you’re not a player. You have relationships, otherwise they couldn’t end up badly and in the news. The only reason I was news was because of how recently you broke up with Simone Andre, and because now she’s in rehab.”

      One thing to be thankful for. At least Grace didn’t sound like she blamed him for Simone’s drug problem, but he didn’t want her thinking that. It didn’t have anything to do with them, but he didn’t want her to see him as recent gossip had been painting him.

      “The stuff about Simone isn’t true. I didn’t just get done with her and move on. I didn’t break her heart and turn her into an addict. I broke up with her because she was an addict. And I wanted her to get help. And she has. She’s in rehab and I’m really glad, but, like I told you before, rumors and gossip spring up about everything, even stuff that isn’t true. I don’t need to make her life worse, and she’s not the one telling people all this, so I don’t correct the idiotic stories I see that paint me as the bad guy. Right now, I’m the stronger one. I can carry this for her. I can handle lies, it’s the true stuff that hurts.”

      “You’re making assumptions about what is best for me. You and Nick both are, and I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions. I made some admittedly stupid choices in the past, but I was a bit younger then, you know. And we’ve already talked about being young and stupid. So that argument doesn’t hold water, and you’re doing me a disservice when you act like I need to be protected from you or that it’s your job or Nick’s job to do it.”

      “Got it. You don’t need to be protected from me. But, to be clear, I would try and protect Nick from making a bad decision too if I knew in advance he was trying to make one. So I can’t get mad at him for doing the same thing with me.”

      “Because you’re about to make a bad decision with me?”

      “That’s what it looks like to Nick. I did make a bad decision in the limo.”

      “My point is, I would regret it more if I didn’t try to finish this than if we go to bed once and you never speak to me again. I’m pretty sure that you’re never going to speak to me again anyway when this is all said and done. So what would you regret more?”

      He stopped once more at the edge and gestured toward the shallow end again.

      She nodded. “One more and then maybe we’ll stay there for a couple of passes. This one worked your ankle a bit.”

      “This isn’t too bad.”

      “It sounds like you’re in pain, though.” In pain and angry. Maybe she should just let this alone. She’d made her point. She’d put herself out there, and at least she’d done it with who she was this time.

      “A little.” At least he admitted to the physical feelings, and moved another foot down and shaved another few inches off the water depth. “And all that stuff I told you about my limits because of your family and our history?”

      “I’m not going to announce it to Nick or Mom and Dad, Liam.” She kept pace with him, letting him set the speed now. “I’m not going to go whining when it ends. I know I don’t fit into your world. It’s going to be over between us when you’re recovered, one way or another. You’re going off to some film location and, sure, you might send greetings through Nick in the future or ask how I’m doing, but we’re not friends.” She touched his arm, stopping him in the middle, forcing him to look at her.

      “We’re not friends anymore, Liam. Right now, we’re pretending to be friends because if this attraction wasn’t between us, we would be friends. I genuinely like you, and I know you like me. I know you care about me, and you care about my family, and our history... But it’s never going to be what it was when we were kids. If it ever was that anyway. I can’t be friends with you without all this between us.”

      Liam watched her in a way that said her words had been in his mind before she’d said them, and she watched as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. The man shouldn’t have told her that body language tell. He felt emotionally in danger, that’s what he’d said men did when they felt that.

      “So it’s going to end because of all the reasons we’ve talked about. Why is that going to be easier than if we’ve made one amazing memory together first?” She stepped back, one step, then another, her courage abandoning her at the end of her forward, angry confession. Now she had no choice but to flee if she wanted to keep breathing or keep from protecting her jugular notch.

      Every time he said he wanted her honesty, it went like this, with his words drying up and her left trying to fill the gap.

      “I want you to do another three passes here, back and forth. And then swim. Gently, not like you’re being chased by sharks. Kick and flex your feet separately or together like a fish, but don’t frog-kick your legs. Use your feet better, and don’t overdo it. Do the same thing three times tomorrow. Morning, afternoon, and evening.”

      “Are you leaving?” he said finally, stopping in the center of the pool where she’d left him, the water lapping at his hips.

      “Yes.” If there was any fairness in the universe, he wouldn’t hear her voice wobbling. “I’ll see you in two days at the clinic. Text me what time you want to come. Morning, I’m guessing. Which would be fine. Or night. I can come back or stay late from work. If you want to meet at night, then do the exercises that day before you come, and we’ll switch things when you get there.”

      He nodded, apparently not disagreeing with any of it.

      She turned and headed for the side of the pool where her towel was, and kicked out of it.

      The bikini business had to stop.

      If anything were going to happen between them now, it had to be his move. Her cards were on the table. So many cards. God, what was she thinking?

      Shaking the towel out, she wrapped it under her arms and clutched it there to head for the changing area.

      Dry off. Get out. Go home.

      Find some way to stop her

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