Dr Tall, Dark...and Dangerous?. Lynne Marshall
for a second or two. “No. As a matter of fact, I resent little kids looking better in the latest styles than I do.”
“Yeah, well, I’m glad my kids’ private school has a dress code, because sometimes I think Chloe’s taste in clothes is far beyond her years.”
“Sounds like a sore spot.”
“Yeah. I don’t like to argue with her about it. As long as she dresses within reason, I’m okay, but sometimes she looks like a tiny adult.” He grinned. “That’s when I pull out the phone and take her picture, text it to my ex and let her weigh in on the outfit. If she approves, I keep my trap shut, but sometimes, well, let’s just say I miss my girl in her overalls and flowered T-shirts, you know?”
He wasn’t trying to impress Kasey or anything, but he caught a look of longing in her eyes, as if she really dug guys who worried about their daughters. “It wasn’t my idea,” he said, noticing a touch of confusion in her expressive eyes. “The divorce.”
“So you didn’t divorce purely on shopaholic grounds?” Her knowing gaze told him he hadn’t fooled her for a minute back at the bar.
He offered a humble smile. “Maybe the fact I was never around, always working on developing my private practice, had something to do with her turning to shopping. I guess it filled a void but, damn, practically every penny I made she spent.”
“Did you guys seek counseling?”
He nodded. “Too little, too late. I wish my ex well and all, I’d just like to have more say in my kids’ lives.”
“You should have input since you’re their dad.”
He gave her an earnest smile before he took another drink. She seemed surprised by it, with a quick yet subtle double-take before returning his smile.
“Thanks for being honest,” she said, popping another bite of pumpkin bread into her mouth. “We’ve all got problems. Sometimes we need to get them off our chest. Not that I’m asking you to unload all your gripes about your ex on me or anything.”
He laughed. “No-o-o, I wouldn’t do that. I’m sure she’s got her share of gripes, too.”
“Again, thanks.” She took a dainty sip and he really liked watching her, making him wonder what was up with that.
“You seem pretty well set up. No husband. No kids. You get to run a busy clinic. Make a differ—” Her lasersharp stare stopped him in mid-word. “What?”
“I just found out I have a fifty-fifty chance of developing Huntington’s,” she said, with a defiant, subtly quivering smile.
Why she had let her dark secret slip out to Jared, she had no clue. Maybe it was because he’d opened up about his family and his frustrations as a father. Or because he tried to make her life sound all rosy-toes. From her perspective at least his problems were fixable. Maybe it was because she needed to get the burden of truth off her chest, and Vincent wasn’t around, and tonight was the night she’d planned to tell him. Whatever the reason, she’d said it, quite out of the blue, and from the sinking in her stomach, wished she could take it back, or at least stop her eyes from welling up. Darn it. The last thing she wanted to do was go all emotional on him. Not here. Not in public.
His gaze went stone cold, his body rigid. Dead silence ensued. Kasey could have sworn the coffee-bar music, which was quiet compared to the bar, got turned down ten more notches.
She knew the second the words had slipped out of her mouth she’d made a huge mistake. This wasn’t how she’d planned to tell someone. She’d wanted to tell Vincent, cry on his shoulder, let him soothe her, not tell a man she’d only just met. She’d never had any intention of telling Dr. Finch!
It was too late to take back the words and, oh, God, the look on his face, his startled gaze, was more than she could bear. She didn’t want his sympathy. The truth of the matter was she’d needed to tell someone before she exploded and now that she’d said it she couldn’t take it back.
Jared leaned in and looked at her with sad and serious eyes. “Wouldn’t you have already known if one of your parents had the disease?”
“Just got word my father died from it. I never knew him. Listen, I didn’t mean to say that. I certainly didn’t mean to hijack the conversation, but …”
Jared clamped his hand on her forearm. “This is tough news. You should’ve told me to shut the hell up with all my trivial griping. Have you taken the blood test yet?”
She shook her head.
“You need to have that test. You’ll go crazy with worry until you know for sure.”
“Tell me about it,” she said. “I found out three days ago, and I can barely function.”
“I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long! Listen, we’ve got a great genetic research department, I’ll arrange for you to have the test ASAP.”
“I can get it done …”
“Let me help you,” Jared said. “Now is no time to flaunt your big-girl panties. I get it that you’re an independent, big-city woman raised by a single parent, and you can handle everything by yourself, but just this once why not let someone else help you out?”
Was that what he’d taken away from their conversation tonight? That she was hard-headed and fiercely independent? Right now she felt anything but. Or maybe he saw her as impossibly stubborn. Either way, she was shutting him out with her response.
Hadn’t she recently given herself a lecture about needing more than two friends? The man had just offered to help her out. She should take it and be grateful.
“Okay.” She glanced at Jared and forced a smile. “Thanks. Let me know when to have the blood drawn and where to go.”
“I’ll get right on it first thing Monday.” He removed his hand from her arm and she immediately missed the warmth. He withdrew his cellphone and entered a note. “Maybe Vincent can go with you for moral support.”
She nodded her thanks. “That’s a thought.” She really didn’t want to go through this alone, and having Vincent’s support would mean the world to her, that was when she finally had a chance to tell him. Who would have thought she’d first blurt out her news to a near stranger?
“Oh, and another thing,” Jared said, putting his phone away.
She looked into his steady, concerned gaze.
“You’re not riding the T home by yourself tonight. I’m coming with you.”
After a brisk walk a couple of blocks to the station, they entered to the T. She didn’t even have to open her wallet to use her magnetic card to open the gate. Being from California, the whole public transportation thing still amused Jared. Seeing him fiddle in his pockets, searching for his Charlie card, she handed him her wallet.
“Here, you can use mine. I’ve got a bundle on it.”
“Thanks.” He took it and placed it over the card reader, waiting for the blip and the gate to pop open. Once inside, they rushed towards the red line, heading for Ashmont. She knew what she was doing, had probably ridden this line a thousand times. He followed along, making mental notes to do the reverse when it was time to go home.
She strode along, looking the picture of health and confidence, yet she’d been delivered a blow that would have brought most people to their knees. Huntington’s. Man, oh, man.
Granted there was a fifty percent chance she wouldn’t have the marker and develop the symptoms, and he hoped that would be the case, but it was still a raw deal. She seemed in her prime and deserved all that life could give her. It simply wasn’t fair.
She glanced back as if to make sure he was keeping up, and her soft smile and friendly eyes tugged at his heart. She’d gone from mere business associate to a woman who needed protecting in one evening, and though it was the last thing