"Mary Janice Davidson - Thief Of Hearts" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Mary Janice)

Ten hours later, he let himself into his apartment. A long shift, but a busy and rewarding oneтАжonly one
death and that one a DNR, an eighty-seven year old woman who had been praying for death for the
better part of a year, according to her calmly tearful daughter. Tough, but it could have been so much
worse. Was so much worse, frequently.

He often wondered how he had ended up where he wasтАФa physician, someone who dealt with death
every day. In school heтАЩd been an amiable goof-off, the class clown, never taking anything or anyone
seriously. Strange that he had been drawn to a career that was, at times, absolutely the furthest thing from
humorous.

It wasnтАЩt that heтАЩd lost someone close to him, had been marked forever by the death of a parent or
close friend. Hell, heтАЩd never had so much as a pet die on him. But in college heтАЩd taken an EMT course
and as part of the training he had to volunteer at a busy metro hospital.

Looking at the suffering around him, he watched the doctors and nurses ease that suffering, pull off
miracle cures, reunite families. He remembered thinking,That looks a helluva lot more satisfying than
working in an office or going out to L.A. to do stand-up. Making people laugh is one thing. Giving
them their lives back is another. He had gone home that night and applied to five pre-med programs.
His father, seeing his slack-ass son filling out college applications instead of watchingFriends re-runs, had
nearly wept with relief.

He was walking past the couch, intent on the kitchen and a sandwich, when he saw Kara was deeply
asleep on his couch, curled under a yellow fleece throw. He nearly walked into the end table.

He turned around, tiptoed back to his front door and examined the lock. Absolutely no signs of
tampering. Then he walked to the windows, which were all locked on the inside. The woman was a
marvel, a ghost, aтАФa rich woman if she ever decided to use her powers to aid the forces of evil.

He went to stand over her again, wanting to talk to her, but also wanting to let her sleep. If she had
stayed close, as she said she wouldтАФand he didnтАЩt think she would lie to himтАФsheтАЩd had a long day,
most of it probably spent huddled on ledges. She hadnтАЩt heard him come in through the door and he
hadnтАЩt been taking particular care to be quiet. Clearly she was exhausted. He would let her sleep.

ExceptтАж

Except her hair, in the faint gleam from the streetlight, was muted gold, the color of nuggets brought up
from the river, gleaming dully and worth thousands. It was the first time heтАЩd seen it down and he itched
to touch, caressтАж

He reached out a trembling hand and stroked her hair where it curved along her skull, realizing with
happy dismay that he was falling in love with a woman he knew nothing about, not even her last name.

It was his last happy thought for a while. She came awake like a cat in the dark: one minute dead to the
world, the next utterly alert. Her hand came up, seized his wrist in a grip slightly less breakable than
handcuffs and pulled. Hard. He rocketed toward her and somehowтАФhe didnтАЩt think this was possible to
do from a prone positionтАФshe flipped him over the end of the couch. She didnтАЩt let go of his wrist and a
split-second later he was on his butt in the dust and she was looking down at him from the back of the
couch, still holding his wrist, which started to throb from the pressure.