“No,” he replied.
She crossed her arms on her chest, regarded him for another moment and then gave in with ill-grace. “Well then, say what you have to say.”
He opened his mouth to begin but she interrupted.
“No, I think I want to go first.”
He closed his mouth and lifted a brow.
“I think…” she started and stopped. “No, that isn’t right. I thank you for…” she stopped again and then looked away, emitting a frustrated noise that Douglas decided was bloody adorable then she started again. “Your attention and your stated intentions are very nice and I appreciate them. I… I’m honoured,” she stammered.
He watched her, not saying a word and not finding her adorable any longer mainly because he did not like that she considered his intention to marry her “very nice”.
“But,” she shifted uncomfortably and then looked at him before suddenly and exasperatedly bursting out, “quit staring at me like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like… like that!” she retorted, with a jerk of her head toward him, clearly thinking her words were an explanation (which they were not).
He lifted his good hand, palm up.
“Oh forget it, forget the chat too, I’m tired,” she snapped.
“Julia.” He stood, deciding it was time to take control of the conversation. She whirled on him and he expected another one of her brilliant tirades, a pouring forth of one of her lists. But instead her shoulders drooped, she turned her head to the side and she pulled a shaking hand through her hair.
“I can’t believe you’ve been shot,” she whispered. “What on earth are you doing that puts you in the way of a bullet? What is it that the police can’t be involved?” He walked toward her and she turned her face to him. “I want to be your friend, Douglas. I think I could be happy here, with the kids, in this house, having a challenging job. If you would just help a little and be my friend.” Her voice was aching and he felt an odd, unfamiliar feeling of tenderness as he stopped before her. “But I can’t let myself like you if I think something’s going to happen to you. I have to protect myself, protect the children.”
She was suffering from a hint of post-traumatic stress, he imagined, and he moved closer to her, gathering her warm body in his one good arm.
She leaned away, arching her back against his arm and looking up at him.
“I talked with Nick today,” he explained quietly.
He felt a hint of gratification when her eyes flared with hope. “Yes?”
“Yes,” he assured her and saw, as well as felt, the relief flood through her as she realised what he was saying. He felt the strange stirring again at the thought of doing something of which she so obviously approved.
“I’m glad. For us and for you too,” she whispered.
“Now,” he said, setting that topic aside, “about your being my friend.”
She nodded her head. “I’d really like that, Douglas.”
“I would too.” His gaze dropped to her lips and he watched the tips come up in a happy smile.
“I’m so glad,” she breathed, more relief, so much it made her tense body relax against his. “This is going to work so well, I promise,” she stated brightly, obviously misinterpreting what he said.
“Julia.” She was pushing against his arm trying to get away; he tightened it and swept her against his body. He felt her soft br**sts press against his arm in the sling and the warmth of her body and he liked both.
“Oh,” she muttered, lifting her head again to look at him. “What?” She was still straining against his arm and it was causing pain in his opposite shoulder.
“Stop trying to pull away, it’s hurting me,” he told her and she immediately stilled.
They watched each other for awhile and then she gave into her curiosity and asked, “Is there something more?”
Douglas noted her tone was slightly strained.
“It’s about us being friends.”