Free Prescription For Love (The Kingsley Series) by Brandi Kennedy Page A

she shoved the snug jeans down over her hips, kicking them off and over the edge of the bed.
     
    "Not as many as you might think," he answered, as she adjusted the elastic waist of her yellow boy-short panties and covered them with the long t-shirt she had on.
     
    "Really? You prefer redheads then?" she teased.
     
    "Lately, I prefer you," he answered, causing Cameron's breath to trip, bunching up in her chest.
     
    "How do you know that?" she asked, pulling the thick quilt from the bed and swirling it around her legs. "You don't know me at all."
     
    "In my line of work, I usually get a good idea of who someone is within thirty minutes of meeting them. I didn't with you, but you somehow got me to blurt out about my wife, and now about my son. I've never dated anyone who asked me to talk about my son."
     
    "Really?" This seemed surprising to Cameron, until her usual pessimism rose up to remind her of how selfish and uncaring people could be. She knew from experience how cold the dating scene could be, how cruel people could be, how thoughtless.
     
    "Really. Dating is unbelievably different from when I was first dating my wife. You know, back then, you wanted to know everything about each other, and you worked up to the bigger aspects of a relationship. But now, everything is much faster, and much less personal. Is it different for you?"
     
    "Oh yeah, lots different," Cameron said dryly. "Because you're exactly right, and that's the reason I don't date. I'm not into the whole hooking up, one-night-stand thing. And a lot of guys now have this two-date or three-date rule, where if you don't put out by then, you're not worth the investment of his time. I'm not into all that, you know? I’m just not that kind of girl. When I'm lonely, I'd rather be lonely by myself than to be lonely with someone right beside me who doesn't care to know me."
     
    "Exactly!" Mac laughed. "That's exactly it!"
     
    "Does that happen with women too? That women are just looking for something quick and then they move on?"
     
    "Oh yeah, especially if I tell them about my son. Every woman who knows about him automatically seems to think I'm sizing them up for mommy material."
     
    "I should think you'd feel obligated to," Cameron answered softly. "With your son, you have to think that any woman who has dating potential might have permanent potential. And that means you need to think about whether you want your son exposed or not. Right?"
     
    "Exactly. Still, I don't sit around listening for wedding bells until I've dated someone for a while," Mac said.
     
    "I see. And how many have lasted long enough for you to hear wedding bells?"
     
    He sighed. "You want the truth?"
     
    "Of course. Honesty is the best policy, right?"
     
    "Right," he laughed.
     
    "Okay, then?" Cameron prompted.
     
    "Well, there has been exactly one woman in my life that made wedding bells chime in my ears," Mac said slowly. "And that was my wife."
     
    "What was her name? I know you told me once, but I’m sorry to admit I don’t remember," Cameron said, sitting up in her bed. She crossed her legs, tucking her quilt around her to keep out the slight chill of the room.
     
    "Her name was Alexandra. Alex. We met when we were in high school, and married after graduation. We spent all our time and all our money getting me through school, so that she could be a stay home mom when we had children. And then we had Logan, and then she had cancer. And then she was gone."
     
    "Mac, I'm sorry. That must have been so hard on you," Cameron whispered. Speaking any louder would have felt disrespectful to his wife, somehow, disrespectful of his grief.
     
    "It was," he answered quietly. "It's been years now, though, and I'm much better off than I was then. She wouldn't have wanted me to drown in grief. She'd have wanted me to move on, to find happiness again."
     
    "She was a better woman than me, then. I wonder if I were married, and I died, would I want my husband to move on, or would I