Coldwater Revenge by James Ross (best e reader for android .txt) 📕

it was with gauze, disinfectant, a thermos of hot cocoa and several disappointing layers of clothing. She handed him the disinfectant and sat across the room in the overstuffed chair, looking away. An awkward silence filled the space between them until she broke it. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

He didn’t need to ask: ‘Can’t what’?

“It’s too late,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes and poured disinfectant on his scalp, pressing a wad of gauze into the wet mess.

Susan squared her shoulders and held her hands in her lap. “I just can’t get involved with you again, Tom. I won’t do that to myself.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.” Though he was at a loss to provide one himself. A grown woman in a flimsy nightshirt does not usually allow herself to straddle a man to whom she is not, at least momentarily, attracted. That much he knew, even before the Ivy League education.

“No, I don’t. But I don’t want to mislead you, either. Or lose you as a friend now that we’ve reconnected.”

The word “friend” stung as much as the gouges on his head and arms.

“I’m still attracted to you,” she blurted. “I always have been.”

Nor did he need a degree in English grammar to know that the next word was going to be “but.”

“But I’m getting uncomfortably close to forty. All the smart men I meet are geeks. The hunks are intimidated by my intelligence, and I can’t spend the next couple of years…” She let the sentence trail away unfinished.

He kept his features expressionless.

“Say something!” she demanded.

He waited.

“Then I’ll say it. I’d love to pick up where we left off… spend the next few years with you rutting like rabbits. But I refuse to spend forever with someone who is basically unhappy.”

He didn’t know what he’d expected to hear. But it wasn’t that.

The silence lasted a long, painful minute. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“No. But I have a hunch that you’re going to tell me. And that it involves more brain science.”

Her mouth formed a smile and then a frown. “Do you know what makes people attracted to each other?”

“Blond hair, green eyes and soft curves. Not necessarily in that order.”

“Non-overlapping immune system markers.”

He felt a groan and suppressed it.

“Opposites attract,” she explained. “—genetically speaking. Do you know what turns them off?”

He spread his hands.

“Opposing energy levels.”

“Meaning what?” It was an expression of wounded pride more than confusion, but she chose to treat it as the latter.

“Meaning people don’t change. The best predictor of how someone is going to be ten years from now, is how they were ten years ago. You weren’t happy when I met you. You’re not happy now. That means the probabilities are high that you won’t be happy ten years from now. And, regardless of how good he might have been in bed when he was younger, I’m not looking to spend the rest of my life with someone who is basically unhappy.”

Clouds of confusion escaped with shortened breath. “Susan! The time I spent with you was the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Me, too.” Her voice was sad and soothing. “And I think we might have a good time again, for a few years. But highs and lows aren’t permanent. The base we return to is what counts in the long run. Mine’s high. Yours—unless you’ve got your clothes off—is low. We’re not compatible over the long haul.”

How had they gotten here so fast from where they had been just minutes ago? Defensive and stubborn, he asked another one of those questions which answers itself. “This is where I’m supposed to say you’re wrong and fight for you, isn’t it?”

Her voice was the hard side of weary. “But we both know that you won’t.”

And they both knew she was right.

CHAPTER 12

Tom got back to the cabin just as the household was beginning to stir. Joe stumbled into the kitchen, winked at Tom and asked him how he had slept. Bonnie came in next, said nothing, and started making pancakes. Luke and the girls drifted in once the aromas were airborne, and then the phone rang.

Bonnie glared at the wall clock. It was six thirty a.m. Tom answered the phone. “Morgan residence.”

“Tom? This is Tanner Hartwell.” Hartwell was the senior managing partner at Tom’s law firm. The sound of Hartwell’s name blew away whatever fog remained from Tom’s sleepless night. “Sorry to disturb your family at this hour, Tom. But your cell has been off for two days, did you know that?”

It’s called vacation.

The voice didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m afraid we have a problem that requires your attention.”

Fatigue swept Tom’s body. “Is it the thing Stu Bailey called about the other day?”

“That’s right. We need you to look at some old documents and walk us through what they mean. It’s not something we can do over the phone.”

Tom felt suddenly like he was in one of those childhood dreams where you get caught cheating on the big test and get kicked out of school. There’s nothing you can do. “When do you need me there?”

“Today.”

Five pairs of eyes watched him replace the phone. “I’ve got to go.” The girls groaned. Luke slunk from the room.

“Oh, Tommy,” said Mary. “Why don’t you tell them to go stuff themselves?”

“Will you be able to come back?” asked Bonnie.

“I don’t know.”

“Let me drive you,” said Joe. “If we leave now, we can be there by late afternoon. You take care of what you have to, and we can be back here before sun up tomorrow.

“That’s too much trouble, Joe. I’ll just fly.”

“Look, Tommy, I called that guy whose card the NeuroGene owner gave us—the one who used to be his partner and lives in Manhattan. He’s willing to meet as long as he can bring his lawyer. I was going to make him come up here. But if he can do it today, we might as well make it a road trip.”

Bonnie and Mary looked at him