The Trouble With Paradise by Jill Shalvis

Author:Jill Shalvis [Shalvis, Jill]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9780425217191
Google: b-LDjwEACAAJ
Amazon: 0425236382
Barnesnoble: 0425236382
Goodreads: 519743
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2007-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

and just the sound of it, French as ever, was so comforting she felt the burn of tears behind her eyes.

“Dorie? Look at me.”

“No, thanks.”

“Dorie.”

Fine. She’d look at him, even if doing so always, always, did something to her belly, and it wasn’t completely pleasant. She opened her eyes.

Pitch-dark under their shelter, and pitchdark outside except for the glow of the ever-burning campfire.

Turning her head, she focused on Christian crouched at her side. Behind him, she could

hear Brandy breathing deeply and evenly. Cadence was behind her, most likely asleep as well,

though she wasn’t making a sound. Andy, she knew, was closer to the beach, but was still in

plain sight, or had been when they’d all gone to sleep.

She knew Denny had settled near Andy, with Ethan as well, who’d returned with no news.

She could only assume that Christian had slept with the guys.

When he wasn’t waking her up, that is.

He’d been waking her up every few hours. She had no idea what time it was, but guessed

dawn was still a long way off.

“How many of me do you see?” he asked.

“Same as the last time you asked me that question, and the time before.”

“Dorie.”

She sighed. “I see one of you. Do you have an evil ex-wife?”

“What? No.”

“Just checking, because you’re always looking at me like you’re waiting for me to bite you

or something.”

“I’ve never been married, and I’m definitely not afraid of a bite. What’s my name?”

“Grumpy Doctor. Which reminds me to ask you, why are you a doctor anyway, if you grew

up hating being dragged around the world with your father?”

“I never said I hated it, and what happened to the gorgeous part?”

“Huh?”

“I thought the nickname was Gorgeous Grumpy Doctor.”

She rolled her eyes. Big mistake, because that hurt like hell. “Okay, why do you look like you hate being a doctor?”

His gaze cut to hers. “What I hate, if anything, is—

was—being on a sailboat and healing

paper cuts and sprained ankles.”

“And splinters.”

A very small smile curved his lips. “Actually, that was a nice perk.”

“That’s my butt you’re talking about.”

“Like I said, a perk.”

“Well, thank you. I think.” She studied him a moment, and he let her. In reverse, she’d be squirming, but he wasn’t much of a squirmer. He was extremely comfortable in his own skin,

an appealing trait, she had to admit. “Why aren’t you working at a hospital then, healing much

more serious problems?”

He looked away.

Interesting. He’d never hidden a thing from her, not his annoyance, his arousal, nothing.

“Christian?”

“It’s complicated.”

She understood complicated. She lived complicated.

“Like working at Shop-Mart instead of

designing clothes because you’re afraid kind of complicated?”

“I’m not afraid. Of anything.”

Somehow, she believed that. “Then what?”

He drew in a deep breath as if reaching for patience, and it occurred to her, he was trying to

scare her off. Except after being shipwrecked and concussed, she’d learned something about

herself.

She didn’t scare off easily. “Spit it out.”

He shot her a half-amused/half-incredulous look.

“Spit it out?”

“American saying for ‘get to it, buster’.”

“Ah.” He looked into her eyes, checked her pupils.

Then slid his talented hands through her

hair to feel the goose egg on her head.

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