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  He joined me at the table. “So all things considered, how are you feeling this morning?”

  “Almost human.”

  He looked pleased. “No feelings of guilt or remorse?”

  I considered his question. “Well, I’d be lying if I said there isn’t a tinge of guilt. It’s weird to be feeling this satisfied and peaceful without Rory being a part of that.” I sighed. “So I guess the little bit of shame I do have is because I feel all right at this moment?”

  “I think you’re going to be okay.”

  I smiled. “God, I hope you’re right.” I bent the edge of a napkin distractedly. “It’s daunting to be starting over in my fifties. A year ago I knew what my future was going to be and now I don’t.”

  He studied me. “I’m not saying from this point on you’re home free or anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t over-think what just happened.”

  “Believe me, Doc. You don’t have to tell me I’m a fucked-up mess.” I still had to go back to the quiet little home I’d shared with Rory. Would I feel worse now, or better?

  “You have to start somewhere. Anyone healing does.” He touched my hand, and his warmth crept into me.

  “I know you’re right.”

  He was wearing a dark-blue robe, and his dark hair was tousled enticingly. He hadn’t even had his shower yet, how in God’s name could he look so sexy?

  “I have an idea but I’m not sure if perhaps I’m expecting too much of you too soon.” He bit his lip, watching me. “Would you want to play hooky with me today?”

  I was surprised at his request. I hadn’t been sure if this had only been a casual thing for him. Yes, he’d been amazing and kind but I could have exhausted his patience with me too. And yet he wanted to keep this date going. I had to acknowledge the little bud of happiness his question gave me. I liked him. The realization of that fact had nagged me all during my shower. He was easy for me to be around and sexy as hell. It sort of seemed as if we’d known each other way longer than just a couple of days.

  “Don’t you have patients to see today?”

  “I only have two and they’re both longtime clients. I can easily reschedule,” he said. “As far as your obligations, I have a sneaking suspicion Fredrick would be more than happy to make other transportation arrangements for today.”

  “I think you’re right about that,” I laughed.

  “So what do you say? Spend the day with me?” he asked.

  He was watching me expectantly. Completely unaware of how tantalizing he looked sitting there, cheeks flushed, a lock of black hair curling across his forehead. I thought of my little house sitting empty, with only the tick of that damn clock breaking the otherwise depressing silence.

  “I dreamt of Rory last night,” I whispered.

  His expression tensed. “You did?”

  I nodded. “I’ve had lots of dreams of him, since it happened.”

  “I would imagine.”

  “It’s usually a dream of him getting shot.” I glanced up hesitantly. “Again and again I’ve had the same dream of me trying to warn him.”

  Michael nodded. “Your subconscious is trying to work it out for you.”

  “What’s to work out? He gets shot in the dream and he got shot in real life.” I sighed and made a circle with my finger near my head. “The moment it happened is just on a loop over and over in my brain.”

  “You said ‘usually’. This time it was different?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I agreed softly. “It wasn’t that day at all. He was just here and he held me. But it had nothing to do with that fucking day at all.”

  “That’s positive. Maybe you’re turning a corner of sorts,” he said cautiously. “You may eventually be able to let go of the guilt.”

  I released a shaky breath. “That’s going to be a tough one.”

  He leaned toward me, resting his elbow on the table. “It is. That will be the hardest thing you’ll ever do, if you can even accomplish it.”

  I looked at him surprised. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”

  He laughed and straightened. “People don’t get over things like losing a partner in a year. Especially someone you were with for so long. But I do believe you can come to terms with what happened and be happy again.”

  “Jesus, you are not Suzy Sunshine like I expected.”

  He crossed his arms and studied me. “Lying to you isn’t going to heal you. You’ve got some work to do and it’s not going to be easy. But if I didn’t think you were a good candidate for success, I wouldn’t have slept with you or gotten involved with you in any way, shape or form.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  He grinned seeming less serious. “Well, I have feelings too.”

  “I knew that when you said you’d keep your hands to yourself if I would just stay and keep you company.” I teased him.

  “I would have to.” He rubbed his stubbly chin. “I’d have been the perfect gentleman.”

  “For some weird reason I believe you.”

  “I envy what you and Rory had.” His kept his gaze pinned on the table. “I want a mature, nurturing relationship. But I’ve always sort of felt like it had to be either mature and stable, or hot and sexy.” He met my gaze cautiously. “I believe you’re the type of guy who would bring both to the table.”

  I was flattered but a little self-conscious too. “If you’d seen me the past year, you would not be saying that. There’s nothing sexy or mature about puking your guts out every night because you can’t handle reality.”

  He grimaced. “From what I understand that behavior is in the past, correct?”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Yes. Most definitely.”

  “Okay, back to the original question I had for you. Do you want to hang out today or would you rather go home and assimilate what happened last night?” he asked. His expression was unguarded. He seemed relaxed, as if he would accept whatever answer I gave him gracefully.

  I pictured going home to my quiet, lonely house and I had a twinge of regret. I liked being around him, he had such a positive, cheerful energy it was enticing. I didn’t really want to go home.

  “What would we do?” I asked.

  His mouth curved in a warm smile. “I was going to suggest we go to the beach and have lunch.”

  “You mean like a picnic?” I asked, surprised.

  He grimaced. “No, I meant at an expensive, beachfront restaurant. Where people serve us delicious food and beverages and wait on us hand and foot.”

  “Oh thank, God. I’m so exhausted from last night I don’t have the energy to fake how much I’m enjoying eating my sandwich with sand in it.” I laughed.

  Michael grabbed my hand and rubbed his thumb against the flesh of my wrist. “I have this strange compulsion to thank Fredrick.”

  “What for?” I asked, enjoying the stroke of his skin against mine.

  “For inviting me to that dinner party, of course.” His voice was velvety.

  I’d forgotten what joy was like until it began spreading through my body, tugging at the long-neglected tendrils of my heartstrings. For the first time in a year I was hopeful that life wasn’t over for me yet. The possibilities seemed clear as day, glittering in Michael’s beautiful, dark gaze.

  “Don’t get too excited, Doc. I’m still not going to let you psychoanalyze me,” I said.

  “Oh, that’s the very last thing I want to do to you, Andrew.” He wiggled his eyebrows fiendishly and bent to press his warm lips to my quickening pulse.

  About S.C. Wynne

  I never know what to say about myself, so writing an About Me section is challenging. I love red wine and I’m obsessed with coffee. I haven’t won any awards for writing although I did win one for reading once. I’m not a world traveler…yet. The books I write are light and romantic with a healthy dollop of humor and just a dash of angst.

  I’m not curing cancer, but I do think reading stories that make us happy can’t help but improve our lives. I fall in lov
e with every character I write and hopefully my readers will too.

  S.C. welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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  Guard My Body

  ISBN 9781419991004

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Guard My Body Copyright © 2014 S.C. Wynne

  Edited by Elizabeth London

  Cover design by Victoria Miller

  Cover photography by Vladimirs Poplavskis, luxora1

  Electronic book publication September 2014

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