Doing It Right Read Online Free

an eyebrow at her. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I was just picturing you and Carlotti—but you were talking about the D.A. I can’t testify. It’s all up to you.”
    “What are you afraid of?” he asked boldly, sure she’d rebuff him, or deny fear. Instead, she just gave him a level look.
    “Nothing I could explain to you,” she said quietly, then got up, poured the rest of her coffee down the sink and walked to the window. She took the cup with her, he noticed. After a moment, he got it—she was so paranoid, she wouldn’t take a chance on leaving fingerprints behind. Interesting. “See you around, Dr. Dean. I’ll be in touch.” She stepped up to the windowsill.
    “It’s Jared,”
he yelled, darting after her, “and use the
door,
for God’s sake! Look, it’s right here.” Herattled the doorknob invitingly; she ignored him. “I can walk you to the main entrance. Ha! Some bodyguard!” he screamed and that got her attention; she paused and turned, looking at him over her shoulder, one foot already on the ledge. “Leaving me here to rot! I’m easy pickings for Carlotti’s hench-morons.”
    She smiled. “Hardly. I’ll be close. Good night.” “Wait!” But the window closed firmly and when he darted to it to look out, it was so dark he couldn’t see her anymore.
    Ten hours later, he let himself into his apartment. A long shift, but a busy and rewarding one—only one death and that one a DNR, an eighty-seven-year-old woman who had been praying for death for the better part of a year, according to her calmly tearful daughter. Tough, but it could have been so much worse. Was so much worse, frequently.
    He often wondered how he had ended up where he was—a physician, someone who dealt with death every day. In school he’d been an amiable goof-off, the class clown, never taking anything or anyone seriously. Strange that he had been drawn to a career that was, at times, absolutely the furthest thing from humorous.
    It wasn’t that he’d lost someone close to him, had been marked forever by the death of a parent or close friend. Hell, he’d never had so much as a pet die on him. But in college he’d taken an EMTcourse, and as part of the training he had to volunteer at a busy metro hospital.
    Looking at the suffering around him, he watched the doctors and nurses ease that suffering, pull off miracle cures, reunite families. He remembered thinking,
That looks a helluva lot more satisfying than working in an office or going out to L.A. to do stand-up. Making people laugh is one thing. Giving them their lives back is another.
He had gone home that night and applied to five premed programs. His father, seeing his slack-ass son filling out college applications instead of watching
Friends
reruns, had nearly wept with relief.
    He was walking through the living room, intent on the kitchen and a sandwich, when he saw Kara was deeply asleep on his couch, curled under a yellow fleece throw. He nearly walked into the end table.
    He turned around, tiptoed back to his front door, and examined the lock. Absolutely no signs of tampering. Then he walked to the windows, which were all locked on the inside. The woman was a marvel, a ghost—a rich woman if she ever decided to use her powers to aid the forces of evil.
    He went to stand over her again, wanting to talk to her, but also wanting to let her sleep. If she had stayed close, as she said she would—and he didn’t think she would lie to him—she’d had a long day, most of it probably spent huddled on ledges. She hadn’t heard him come in through the door and he hadn’t been taking particular care to be quiet. Clearly she was exhausted. He would let her sleep.
    Except …
    Except her hair, in the faint gleam from the streetlight, was muted gold, the color of nuggets brought up from the river, gleaming dully among the pebbles and worth thousands. It was the first time he’d seen it down and he itched to touch, caress …
    He reached out a trembling hand