Love's Miracles Read Online Free PDF Page B

clipped, cold. “There’s nothing wrong
with me.”
    On
first impression, she’d agree with him. He had been calm, rational, and very
much in control when handling the emergency with the deer and now with her. Of
course, appearances could be deceiving. He was very controlled.
    “Fifteen
minutes, and I go back and reassure Vinnie.”
    He
was listening. Margo headed for the stairs.
    In
two strides he caught up with her. “Fifteen minutes. No more. And I’m not
answering questions I don’t want to.”
    “Of
course. Can we sit down inside?”
    He
wasn’t pleased. He probably suspected she’d guess things about him when she saw
the inside of his house, which was exactly what she intended to do. Without
waiting for an invitation, Margo climbed up the plank steps.
    Inside
the house and across the spacious room, she spied a redwood table of
beautifully carved burl. Several magazines were on top: National Wildlife , American Zoologist , Animal Kingdom . Margo straightened and
observed the large prints of endangered species framed on the wall. So animals
interested him? She could work with that if he agreed to treatment.
    Zane
went to the kitchen sink to wash up and gestured to the bathroom for her. Margo
took one look in the mirror and shuddered. Blood was spattered all over her
sweater. She might as well write that one off, she thought as she returned to
the living area.
    While
she seated herself on the couch, he strode to the natural rock fireplace that
extended to the ceiling and braced one foot on the hearth. Margo had to admire
the pose. His jeans tightened across his legs. The Pendleton hung loose, giving
him a deceptively casual look. The inn clerk’s description came to mind: earthy
and handsome, yet dangerous.
    Even
though he was splattered with blood he didn’t seem dangerous in a physical
sense, she decided as she tilted her head and studied his profile. But he did
seem hazardous to be involved with. She could picture women easily falling for
him with just one glance from those blue eyes. He slid her one of those looks
now from under hooded lids.
    “Fifteen
minutes. No more.”
    Right.
She crossed her legs and perched her notepad on her knee. She’d give him the
Macy’s credit card approach – begin by asking general-information questions to
relax his guard. He held too much back.
    She
wrote his name across the top. “Dominic Zanelli. Does everyone call you Zane?”
    He
nodded.
    “Is
it a derivative of Zanelli?”
    He
nodded again.
    “Where
were you born?”
    “San
Francisco.”
    By
the time fifteen minutes had passed, she’d gone through the vital statistics. A
quick glance showed he’d relaxed his stance a bit. Good. Normal reaction. And
he hadn’t noticed the time.
    “When
were you in Vietnam?”
    She
wrote down the dates, noting his position had not changed.
    “You
saw a lot of combat. I imagine you had many traumatic experiences.”
    This
time he reacted. It wasn’t outward, but more of something she sensed. Maybe it
was the way he braced his hand on his knee. She set her pad beside her and used
her quiet, reassuring tone.
    “You
were in a high-stress position. The fatality rate for helicopter personnel was
high. Most didn’t live out their tour of duty.”
    He
looked away from her and stared out the window. “You have no idea what it was
like over there.”
    Margo
didn’t flinch from the bitter tone. This too was a common reaction.
    “I
don’t pretend to know. But I did my training in the V.A. Center in Palo Alto. I
worked there with fifty to a hundred vets who suffered from posttraumatic
stress disorder.
    “I
don’t want to get into this, but I bet you have some of the common symptoms –
nightmares and irregular sleep patterns. I bet when a Huey flies overhead the
sound of the chopper brings back memories. Maybe that is one of the reasons
you’ve decided to stay here in the woods.”
    He
didn’t answer, but his fist was clenched on his knee. A quick glance at her
watch showed