Honey Read Online Free Page B

him.
    Good thing his hands were full.
    Swallowing against his mouth’s sudden dryness, he held out the takeout bag. “You need to eat. I would have picked up a prime rib but biting into beef with a swollen jaw isn’t fun.”
    She hesitated and then reached for the bag with her unhurt arm. “Thanks.” She looked inside to the plastic container. “Goodness, that’s a lot of soup.” She crossed to the open kitchen and set the bag on the breakfast bar.
    Watching her walk away—if he wasn’t careful, the sway of those hips would hypnotize him like a pendulum—he answered, “I figured I’d better pick up enough for two.”
    She whipped around, wincing as if the abrupt movement must hurt her. Or maybe it was his question, and the truth, that brought the real pain. “I told you last night, it’s just me.” Wide and frightened, her unhurt eye met his.
    â€œIs it?” He started toward her, stopping when his rubber sole came down on something more substantial than slivered glass. He lifted his foot and his gaze caught on the object in question: a gold cufflink. Like the scotch, it was expensive—and a dead giveaway. He bent and picked it up, taking note of the monogram, AW, before straightening. “You don’t live here alone.” This time it wasn’t a question.
    â€œWhether I do or not, it’s none of your business.” She shoved away from the counter and came toward him. Reaching him, she held out her hand.
    He handed the cufflink over. “When your roommate lands you in the ER, my ER, it kind of is.”
    She slipped the male jewelry inside her sling. A bruise, yet another one, had begun blooming atop her bared and otherwise milky shoulder. Resisting the insane impulse to close the gap between them and press his lips to the wicked mark, he focused back on her face.
    Looking up at him, she asked, “Do you follow all your patients so closely?”
    â€œNot all, only the ones whose accident stories don’t hold water.” Hers had more holes than the suspected Mafia hit who, riddled with bullets, had DOA’d the month before. “Or who run off before I discharge them.”
    â€œHow much do I owe you for the prescription? I’m afraid I don’t keep much cash lying about.”
    â€œConsider it on the house.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his card.
    She stared at it as though it was a spider. “Your card? Seriously?” She looked at him askance.
    He felt his face burn. She obviously thought he was hitting on her. Under other circumstances, non-medical circumstances, she might not be far off. “With the website and phone number of a women’s shelter written on the back.”
    Her shoulders dropped as though someone had dumped invisible weights on them. “I know what you’re thinking … what this must look like, but it was just a silly spat that got out of hand.”
    â€œI’ll say.” And by the way, who under the age of sixty used words like “spat” anymore?
    She shook her head. “Drew loves me, and I … love him. He’s really a marvelous man. It’s just that he’s been under so much stress at work.”
    Drew, a common nickname for Andrew—the “A” in the “AW,” it had to be! So that was the sadistic son of a bitch’s name. Filing it away for the future, he said, “Spare me the excuses. I’m under stress at work. Most people I know are under stress at work, either logging in crazy hours or holding down multiple jobs to make ends meet, and yet they find ways to deal with it that don’t involve knocking around their women.”
    â€œI’m not anyone’s woman.” The remark was made with another lifting of that stubborn little chin, a chin that despite its swollen state would fit neatly in his hand.
    He locked his eyes on hers. “Aren’t you?”
    She