Sizzling Nights with Dr. Off-Limits by Janice Lynn Page B

didn’t like liver to that he only liked liver prepared by Emily.
    She’d taken things he hadn’t liked and prepared them in ways that made him reverse his opinion. He could admire that she’d done that. Really, he should applaud the cooking talent she’d acquired since she’d last prepared a meal for him.
    Not surprisingly, the meat was as tender as she’d claimed and the flavor was quite good. Not dry and chewy as he remembered his previous trials with liver.
    He clapped his hands together. “Bravo.”
    Her cheeks flushed. “You like it?”
    â€œYou meant for me to, right?”
    â€œI suppose.”
    â€œAm I going to regret eating this later?” he asked, taking another bite.
    â€œI don’t know. Are you?”
    â€œNo rat poison or anything that’s going to put me in the emergency department?”
    â€œWould you deserve it if there was?”
    He had to think about that one for a minute. Mainly because he wondered if she thought he deserved it? Still, despite her quick comeback, he knew she hadn’t done anything to him. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.
    â€œMaybe I would.”
    Emily sat quietly eating her food and staring at her plate rather than look at him.
    â€œI’m sorry I hurt you, Emily.”
    She dropped her fork.
    â€œI’m sorry for a lot of things,” he continued, trying not to wince at her pale face. “Especially how sad you became during our marriage. I regret that I ever played any role in you not being happy.”
    Her gaze lifted to his.
    He waited, not trying to hide his sincerity, not surprised at her look of disbelief. Or was that disgust?
    She obviously wanted to scream. She practically did. “No. You can’t do this to me.”
    Not understanding her anger, he asked, “What?”
    She pushed her plate away from her and shook her head. “You can’t come in here apologizing and acting like you regret how we ended.”
    â€œI do regret how we ended.” More than she’d ever know or believe, he regretted everything that had gone wrong between them. “I’ve always regretted how we ended.”
    â€œBull.” She pushed herself away from the table and walked over to the refrigerator. She pulled out two individual glass servings of what appeared to be pudding with a dollop of whipped cream on top.
    Which didn’t exactly fit with the theme of their meal. He loved pudding. Always had.
    He had a vague flashback of pushing her away after she’d attempted to make pudding that had turned out to be a clumpy mess instead of anything close to edible.
    Not that he’d cared about the pudding, but the broken look in her eyes had about killed him. When she’d started crying yet again, he hadn’t been able to stand it, had wanted to take her in his arms and kiss away the tears in her eyes, had wanted to tease her, spread the liquid concoction on her lips and suck it off until they both forgot about everything except each other.
    Instead, they’d fought. Badly. He’d stormed out of the house and gone to stay the night at the hospital doctors’ lounge. That had been the end.
    The night he’d told her if she was that unhappy, she should leave.
    She had left. Because she had been that unhappy. He had made her that unhappy.
    When he’d come home the next day, she’d been gone and the tiny apartment had never felt more lonely, more claustrophobic, more cheap and distasteful.
    He hadn’t meant his words. He’d not wanted her to leave. He hadn’t wanted her to be unhappy, either. No matter what he’d done, he hadn’t been able to make Emily happy.
    Pride had taken over and bad had gone to worse.
    What an immature idiot he’d been.
    A selfish, immature idiot who’d driven away the best woman to ever come into his life. She’d been a likable person. A good person. Honest, wholesome, real, a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.
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