Sanctuary(149)

:,This won't take long."

'just don't put any new holes in me."

she clipped the first suture, tugged it free with tweezers. "Since we both live on this island, and it's likely we'll be running into each other on a regular basis for the rest of our lives, perhaps you'd do the courtesy of clearing the air."

"It's clear enough, Yirby."

"For you, apparently. But not for me." she clipped, tugged want to know why you turned away from me. Why you decided things between us the way you did."

"Because they'd gone farther than I'd intended them I one of us thought it would work. I just decided to back off all."

"Oh, I see. You dumped me before I could dump you."

"More or less." He wished he couldn't smell her. He wished she'd had the decency not to rub that damned peach-scented lotion all over her skin to torment him. "I'd see it more as just a matter simplifying."

"And you like things simple, don't you? You like things your way, in your time and at your pace."

Her voice was mild, and though he wasn't sure he could trust it, particularly when she had a sharp implement in her hand, he nodded. "That's true enough. You're the same, but your way, your time, and your pace are different from mine."

"I can't argue with that. You prefer a malleable woman, a delicate woman. One who sits patiently and waits for your move and your whim. That certainly doesn't describe me."

"No, it doesn't. And the fact is I wasn't looking for a woman or a relationship, whatever you choose to call it. You came after me, and you're beautiful. I got tired of pretending I didn't want you."

"That's fair. And the sex was good for both of us, so there shouldn't be any complaints." she removed the last suture. "All done."

she lifted her eyes to his. "All done, Brian. The scar will fade. Before long, you won't even remember you were hurt. Now that the air's all clear, I'll be on my way."

He remained where he was when she rose. "I appreciate it."

"Don't give it a thought," she said with a voice like frosted roses. "I won't." she left by the back, quietly and deliberately closing the screen behind her.

she didn't start to run until she was into the shelter of the trees.

"Well, that was tin." Brian picked up Kirby's untouched lemonade and downed it in several long gulps. It hit his tortured stomach like acid.

He'd done the right thing, hadn't he? For himself and probably for her. He'd kept things from stringing out, getting too deep and complicated. All he'd done was nick her pride, and she had plenty of it to spare. Pride and class and brains and a tidy little body with the energy of a nuclear warhead.

Christ, she was a hell of a woman.

No, he'd done the right thing, he assured himself, and ran the cold glass over his forehead because he suddenly felt viciously hot inside and out. she would have set him aside eventually and left him slackjawed and shot in the knees.

Women like Yirby Fitzsimmons didn't stay. Not that he wanted any woman to stay, but if a man was going to start fantasizing, if he was going to start believing in marriage and family, she was just the type to draw him in, then leave him twisting in the wind.

she had too much fuel, too much nerve to stay on Desire. The right offer from the right hospital or medical institute or whatever, and she'd be gone before the sand settled back in her footprints.

God, he'd never seen anything like the way she'd handled Susan Peters's body. The way she'd turned from woman to rock, clipping out orders in that cool, steady voice, her eyes flat, her hands without the slightest tremor.

It had been an eye-opener for him, all right. This wasn't some fragile little flower who would be content to treat poison ivy and sunburn on a nowhere dot in the ocean for long. Hook herself up with an innkeeper who made the best part of his living whipping up soufflds and frying chicken? Not in this lifetime, he told himself.

So it was done, and over, and his life would settle back quietly into the routine he preferred.

Fucking rut, he thought on a sudden surge of fury. He nearly hurled the glass into the sink when he spotted her medical bag on the table. she'd left her bag, he mused, opening it and idly poking through the contents.

she could just come back and get it herself, he decided. He had things to do. He couldn't be chasing after her just because she'd be in a snit and left it behind.

Of course, she might need it. You couldn't be sure medical emergency would come along. It would be his fault, if she didn't have her needles and prodding things. Sory up and die, couldn't they?

He didn't want that on his conscience. With a shrug, he

picked the bag up, found it heavier than he'd imagined. He thought he'd.

run it over to her, drop it off, and that would be that.