The M.D. Meets His Match. Marie Ferrarella

they’d refer to it as grief. And whatever happens between a lady and me is by mutual consent. I make a point of never staying where I’m not wanted.”

      April realized she was flirting, but since it was just for tonight, she could see no harm in it. She supposed her ego could use the temporary high. “And just what kind of signals have to go off before you realize you’re not wanted?”

      “That’s easy,” he told her. “The lady says go and means it.”

      Right, and if she believed that, there was an ice bridge he wanted to sell her. “So if I said go, you would?”

      He grinned. “You’re forgetting the key part—‘and means it,”’ he repeated.

      He had a loophole. She figured as much. “And that’s up to you to decide, isn’t it?”

      He laughed. “You’re getting the hang of it now.”

      The record ceased play, taking the music with it. He was loathe to give her up just yet. He had a feeling that if he continued dancing, she’d follow. For the moment she didn’t look as if she realized that the jukebox had stopped playing. But her cheeks were flushed and while he’d like to think he had something to do with that, it was probably the close quarters they were in. “Would you like to get some air?”

      They weren’t that far from the door. Without seeming to move, they’d somehow managed to dance their way to the saloon entrance.

      “Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” She nodded toward the doorway. “I’ll just step out for a minute.”

      When he followed her, she raised a quizzical brow. “Can’t let a lady go out alone at night.”

      Part of the reason she wanted to step outside was to get away from him and that rock-hard body of his. “You can if the lady insists.”

      With that, she slipped outside and closed the door behind her.