"Mary Janice Davidson - Dying For Ice Cream" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Mary Janice)

"Most days I'd do that. Go awayтАФI mean, we don't even
know each other, and I just had the day from hell and I'm
tired and my dad's probably worried about me and my foot
hurts from where the pill cart ran over it. You seem like you
need some help. Do you want me to call a doctor?"

Her gaze flew to his face, her blue eyes wide with alarm.
"No! God, no. The last thing I need is another doctor." She
sniffed pitifully. "Just go away and let me die in peace."

He grinned at her melodrama. "You look pretty healthy."

"Well, I'm not, okay?" she snapped. "I've got diabetes. And
I've got news for you, I'm not putting up with it. Forget it."

She brought up a big drippy spoonful of ice cream, opened
her mouth wide, then paused long enough to glare at him.
"Are you just going to sit there and stare at me?"

"I'm trying to remember my notes from health class," he said
mildly. "Is diabetes the one where you poop uncontrollably,
or when you can't have sugar?"

The girl stared at him for a long moment, then burst out
laughing. He breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"It's the one where you can't have sugar, you idiot."

Funny, how she made "idiot" sound almost like "darling".

"I always get those two mixed up," he admitted. "So if you
can't have sugarтАФ"

"Ever."

"Right. If you can't have any, why are you sitting there with a
bowl of ice cream the size of your head?"

"It's none of your business, really."

He folded his arms across his chest and hummed at the
ceiling. His very pose told her he had nothing better to do
than wait for an answer. She made an exasperated sound and
said, "I told you. I'm not putting up with it. I'm not cutting out
sugar and watching my diet and going to the doctor every
other damn day and sticking needles into my thigh three times
a day, no way. No."

She brought a great, gloppy spoonful to her mouth.