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Immediately Bridget broke away from his compelling gaze. “Does it matter all that much? I’m not exactly sure of what you’re getting at—and I have a headache myself.” Trying to conceal that his remark had disturbed her, she picked up the mug, her hand blessedly steady. “So, do you really plan to open an office here in Randolph?”
The grooves around his mouth deepened in a slight frown at her introduction of a different subject. His gaze focused on her lips as she lifted the cup to her mouth. She tried to sip the coffee with an air of nonchalance, denying that his look had any effect on her, and nearly scalded her tongue on the hot liquid.
“I’ll be opening a practice, yes,” he answered finally. “That was one of the things I was talking to the resident about when you and Molly went off for her CAT scan. There’s a building available with a long lease, and he knew where I could get medical equipment and furniture at a reasonable price. He even recommended a nurse—a gem, he called her, named Schultzy.”
“That was fast,” Bridget said.
“Not really. I have to hire a lawyer, do due diligence, obtain a Vermont medical license—there’s a lot of work to be done. But it is what I want.”
“Then you are definitely staying?” Bridget asked. She shook her head. “Sorry, dumb question. You bought a house.” Why would he stop there? Funny. At the hospital, she’d been touched by, had even admired, his determined idealism. But the reality of Jonas setting up a practice in the town she and Molly lived in was different. She fought a sinking sensation.
“Yes, I am definitely staying,” Jonas stated quietly as if he guessed her unspoken reaction to the news. “I made up my mind about that after I saw you in March and Bob told me later that your husband had died.”
Whoa. Where was he going with that remark? “You shouldn’t have let that influence you,” she replied curtly. All of a sudden Bridget was on the verge of panic.
“Probably not,” he conceded.
“Won’t you miss New York? Don’t you want a Park Avenue office?” Unwittingly, Bridget put a sarcastic edge on her words.
“I told you I worked in a clinic, Bridget,” he said patiently. “I was on staff, on salary. Yes, I can get start-up loans based on my earning potential, but most of my patients couldn’t even afford to be sick. What do you take me for? Not every doctor is obsessed with making money.”
Bridget avoided that subject even though she had brought it up, if only by implication. It would ultimately lead to a discussion of the past and arguments and bitterness and all the old hurt. It was difficult enough to deal with Jonas’s presence without all the old emotions resurfacing.
“Good health care is expensive,” she said blandly. Bridget changed the subject again. “I suppose the clinic will be sorry to see you leave. Had you worked there long?”
“Since qualifying. The administrator will have to replace me sooner than she expected but that’s how it goes. As far as I’m concerned, I’m out of there as of now. I made some good friends and I think I really helped a lot of people, but I was just about burned out. They knew my ultimate goal was to start my own practice and get away from the city.” There was a glitter of impatience in his gray-green eyes as if he was aware she was trying to sidetrack him. His hand, large and well shaped, wrapped itself around the side of his coffee mug.
Bridget searched for a noncommittal response. “There isn’t any place quite like Vermont.” An inane comment under the circumstances. The air was crackling around her, charged with emotional undercurrents she tried desperately to ignore.
“I didn’t come back for the scenery and you know it,” Jonas muttered. “I came back because of you.” His hand reached out for hers and she wasn’t quick enough to dodge it. “I had to come back to see if we still had a chance together.”
The enveloping warmth of his grip coursed through her entire body. It took all of her self-control and resolve not to be swayed by his nearness.
“You’re a doctor, Jonas. You save lives,” Bridget answered evenly. “But not even you can breathe life into something that died ten years ago.” Gently but firmly she drew her hand free of his hold. Rising, she smiled politely. “Would you like some more coffee?”
There was a brooding fire in his eyes as he stared at her silently. Then he pushed his mug toward her. “Please.” The acceptance of her request was issued tautly. “I let it get cold.”
Picking up his mug, Bridget walked to the counter where the coffeemaker was plugged in. Heat was rising from his cup, but she poured out the contents and added more from the pot.
“It isn’t dead for me, Bridget.” With cat-soft footsteps, Jonas had approached her from behind. “Is what you once felt for me really dead?” he demanded huskily.
His fingers brushed the chestnut hair away from her neck, their touch against her skin thrilling her, no matter how much she wanted to resist him. His hard mouth restamped its brand on the curve of her neck, nibbling at the sensitive cord.
The floor seemed to roll beneath her feet, but it was only the trembling of her knees. She swayed for a second against the solid wall of his muscular chest, feeling the promised strength of his arms.
The sensual weakness was momentary. Straightening, she turned, wedging a space between them, and forced the hot mug into his hands. Jonas had no alternative but to take it.
“Your coffee,” she declared shakily and took a hasty step away from him.
Her heart was beating so fast it frightened her. Her fingers nervously raked a path through the chestnut hair above her ear. She was being tom apart by the physical and mental conflict going on within. Jonas was still standing by the counter, not moving, watching her intently, gauging her reaction.
“Bridget …” His voice was low and insistent.
She had to divert him. “I, er—” She couldn’t think of anything to say. His next move was sudden and unexpected: his hand captured her wrist.
Her startled gasp was wasted as he pulled her smoothly into his arms. She was caught, his muscular thighs burning their imprint on her own, his virility all too obvious and his lips too close to hers.
“Let me go!” She was angry—angry and frightened because part of her didn’t want him to let her go.
