Dancing in the Moonlight - Harlequin.com

136 DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT
months seemed to simmer up to the surface of her
psyche like viscous acid.
She burned with anger on a dozen different levels,
furious with Jake for his obstinance but also livid at the
world, at her own bleak future, at the relentless pain she
couldn’t seem to beat into submission, no matter how
hard she tried.
All of it coalesced suddenly into one big spurt of fury
and all she could focus on was Jake.
“I said I can clear them,” she snapped, and reached
for the stack of plates in his hand.
She jerked them away, but they were wet and slick and
she was balancing by her forearms on two narrow pieces
of metal. With a horrified sense of inevitability she felt
them slip through her fingers and then the whole stack
crashed to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces.
She stared at the china on the floor, jagged and broken
and rendered forever useless by one single moment.
The rage inside her dissolved as suddenly as it had
struck. Instead she was filled with a deep, compelling
sorrow. Who would ever want these dishes now? They
were nothing. Less than nothing.
She gazed down at the floor, vaguely aware of the hot
sting of tears in her eyes, trailing down her cheeks.
Jake studied her for all of three seconds, then she
thought she heard him murmur a low endearment before
he scooped her into his arms, letting her crutches fall to
the ground.
“I pushed you too hard with the clinic today and everything.
I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
His words—his kindness—only made her cry harder,