Just A Little Bit Married?

His voice was low and husky. “That wasn’t the only thing I suggested, as I recall. Though I didn’t exactly put the rest of it into words.” He glanced over at her, his expression impossible to read in the shadowy interior. “I had the impression you turned me down. Was I wrong?”

Her hands clenched in her lap. He was doing this on purpose. He wanted to rattle her, she was sure of it, even if she couldn’t imagine why. “As I recall,” she managed to say in a cool little voice, “your only other suggestion was that I not go to work. I did turn that down, yes.”

He chuckled. “You know, before going in to work with you tonight, I had the idea you were shy. Now I’ve seen you in action, and, honey, ‘shy’ is not the word I’d use to describe a woman who straddles a 250-pound man on a crash cart.”

“The patient was epileptic. He went into convulsions.”

“Yeah, and you were just doing your job, right? Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with the suggestion you made to me tonight, either.” He grinned.

“I didn’t—I haven’t—we hardly spoke.”

“Oh, talking isn’t necessary for this kind of suggestion. Did you think I wouldn’t notice the way you kept sneaking peeks at me? If there’s anything particular you want to see, honey, you let me know. I’ll be glad to show you.”

Mortification swept over Sara in a red tide. He’d noticed? Oh, no. Why hadn’t she tried harder to control her eyes? He just looked so good to her. Her eyes had been drawn to him over and over, but she hadn’t thought he’d caught her at it.

“Hey,” he said more gently, “I’m not—hell!”

She had time to blink. That was it. The next second he tramped on the gas and spun the steering wheel, flinging her sideways and sending the car into a wide, crazy turn. The terrible thunder from her nightmares mingled with the explosive sound of the back window shattering. Glass pebbles rained over her head and shoulders.