Cross My Heart by Abigail Strom

beautiful that for a moment all he could do was stare.
    “Hi,” he said, finally.
    “Hi,” she answered, her voice cool.
    He took a deep breath. “Can I come in?”
    She nodded, her expression as cool as her voice. She turned and headed for the kitchen, where he could smell coffee brewing.
    Her jeans were old and faded and soft, and they fit her body like a second skin. He couldn’t take his eyes off the curve of her hips as he walked behind her. The events of the day had left him feeling a little raw, and he was almost painfully aware of his attraction to her.
    “Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked over her shoulder.
    “Yeah. That would be great.”
    “How do you take it?”
    “Just black.”
    She filled two mugs and handed him one. She stayed standing, so he did, too.
    He was finding it hard to speak. His normally sharp brain was moving slowly, memories of what had happened at the clinic jumbled together with thoughts of Jenna. Wildly inappropriate thoughts.
    He couldn’t stop staring at her, and he prayed she couldn’t read his mind. He wanted to kiss her soft, lush mouth and every inch of her skin. He wanted to pull her shirt over her head and fill his hands with her breasts. He wanted to...
    He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
    “Is Jim all right?”
    He dropped his hand to his side. “Yeah, he’s fine.”
    “Does that kind of thing happen a lot?”
    “Not really. Once a week, maybe, we’ll have some kind of incident—a drunk or a drug addict, or something like that. We usually have a security guard in the waiting room, but he left early today.”
    She’d been avoiding his eyes, but now she looked up at him. “I would have thought...you being a surgeon...that you wouldn’t get into fights. Because of your hands.”
    He smiled a little. “I try to avoid throwing punches. Luckily there are other ways to subdue people. Not that I’m in that situation a lot,” he added. “Like I said, we usually have a security guard down there.”
    “But it seemed like you were used to it. Used to dealing with violence.”
    It was a question, and after a moment’s hesitation he answered it. “I grew up in a bad part of Chicago. If I hadn’t learned to take care of myself, I wouldn’t have survived.”
    Her eyes softened a little. “That sounds rough.”
    He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I got out a long time ago.”
    Okay, it was time to do what he’d come over here to do. “Jenna, I’m sorry I snapped at you and Claire at the clinic. I had no right to lose my temper like that, to make you feel like I don’t trust you. Especially because I do trust you.”
    She frowned down at her mug, which was black with a skull and crossbones on it. He hoped it wasn’t emblematic of her feelings about him. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I shouldn’t have taken Claire to that salon without checking with you, and I should have called before bringing her to the clinic.”
    He shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Claire’s hair looks great, and I’m glad you took her to get it cut. I was just...surprised. And yeah, the clinic’s not the best place for a visit, but you didn’t know that. And today wasn’t typical. If you’d come on a quiet day I probably wouldn’t have reacted like that. It’s just...”
    He wondered why it was so hard to say the next part. “When I saw you there...” He hesitated. “I thought about what could have happened, and I...” He remembered how Claire had put it. “I guess I freaked out.”
    Jenna’s chest rose with a quick breath. “I get that. I do. That’s why I’m sorry. I should have called, but we thought it would be fun to surprise you.”
    “I love that you wanted to do that. And I’m sorry about what happened.”
    “I know.”
    Relief spread through him. “So you’re not mad at me?”
    “Oh, I’m mad at you.”
    He stared at her. “But you just said—”
    The cool reserve disappeared from her eyes, replaced