Necessary Action. Julie Miller
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Had catching her admiring the muscular landscape sent her patient the message that she wanted to be touched? If so, how did she change that message? Because it really wasn’t in her plans right now to...to what? Make a friend? Have an affair? Completely embarrass herself by revealing that she’d reached the age of twenty-five with more experience fishing than kissing?
“Hey, Doc, you okay?” His voice rumbled in a drowsy timbre. “You got quiet on me.”
She hated how her skin telegraphed every emotion, putting her at a disadvantage when she couldn’t read whatever Tom was thinking or feeling. “I did?” She cleared her throat to mask the embarrassingly breathless quality of her own voice. “I’m sorry. What were we talking about?”
“Why you tamed all that hair into a braid like this. You’ve sure got a lot of it.” Was that supposed to be a compliment? Or a remark about how the Missouri humidity could wreak havoc on too much naturally curly hair? And, goodness, was he still twirling the tail end of her braid between his fingers?
She couldn’t summon her father’s spirit to guide her, but she could muster up a little common sense. Melanie pulled the braid from his fingers and swung it behind her back. “It’s not practical to have it flying all over the place when I have to do work like this. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been tempted to cut it all off.”
“Now that would be a shame. It’s like earthy fire.”
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