A Home for the Hot-Shot Doc by Dianne Drake

Author:Dianne Drake
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

IT WAS HARD, facing the changes—the changes going on inside himself to do with Mellette, after holding her for those hours in the airport while she slept. He was attracted to her. More than attracted. In fact, he wondered if she might be the one to turn his world upside down. But leaving Chicago and coming back here? Could he do it? And if he did, could he be happy? Somewhere logic needed to meet emotion, and he wasn’t sure where that would happen, or how.

Also, it was hard, facing the changes going on with his grandmother’s house. He hadn’t realized how attached he’d been to it, or to the memories. Too much was changing...changing too fast. All of it was his doing, though. The medical clinic and what he was feeling toward Mellette.

Admittedly, his new feelings for her were what had him the most confused, because they weren’t the normal physical fluff he experienced when he spent time with a pretty woman. She was substance. It just engulfed her like a cocoon. So while that probably should have scared him—and he’d have been smart to have been scared—it didn’t. It was more like it intrigued him, made him want more...more of her.

He’d been too long without a woman, he tried to tell himself. And while that was true, the other thing he had to admit was that he’d never had a woman like Mellette in his life. So maybe she wasn’t really in his life so much as close to it, but she was close enough that it was making him think. Confusing thoughts. Conflicting thoughts.

“Better color?” Mellette asked, stepping up behind him.

“Much.” Rather than going with white paint for the house’s exterior, which she’d originally planned, Mellette had chosen a charcoal gray, which was as near to the original color as it could get. But she’d added trim colors that the house had never had before—lighter gray around the windows and a rich brick red for the chimney, door and flower boxes under the windows, which made the place look welcoming. “It’s...different. Going to take some getting used to. But I like it.”

“Changes aren’t always easy, are they?” she asked him, giving his arm a sympathetic squeeze then looping her arm through his and pulling him toward the house. “Even when we expect them and want them.”

“Even when they’re for the best.” The welcome sign was conspicuously missing and it surprised him how much that single, small subtraction affected him. But it did, and it caused a hard lump to form in his throat, probably because it had always been his habit to look up at the sign looming over the door every time he walked in. But times were changing, weren’t they? And this was her project, not his. So he had no reason to complain. At this late date, he had no legitimate call to remind her of his suggestions, either. No reason to say put back the sign because, damn it, he

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