Roping the Wind (3 page)

He rubbed a hand over the front of his boxers where his cock had grown hard. He frowned down at his lap. ‘Don’t you have any standards? I said she’d probably castrate you.’

With a sigh, he put the rest of the beer back and headed for the couch. Naturally, Grayson had all the TV channels you could buy. He’d finish his beer, watch some porn and persuade his cock to forget about Dr Helen ever getting within a mile of him.

Chapter Two

Helen Kinsale took a deep breath and picked up the phone. ‘Hi, Lisa, this is Dr Kinsale. Could you put me through to Mr Dempsey, please?’

Fingernails drumming, she endured the brief spurt of syrupy automated music until Simon Dempsey came on the line. Even though he couldn’t see her, she still found herself manufacturing a smile.

‘Simon? It’s Helen. Something’s come up at work. I’m not going to be able to get away this weekend after all.’

She held the phone away as the whining and recriminations began. Work was such a convenient excuse with so many variables. Her ex-husband had taught her that. He’d used the tired old excuse for years while he carried on his petty affairs with various hospital personnel.

She examined her French manicure as Simon continued to talk. Not that she was planning on having an affair. She was using the hackneyed excuse to get out of an unpromising relationship, not indulge in a new one. Simon Dempsey had been a mistake from the first. He was too opinionated, too old and did nothing for her sexually.

She waited for him to draw a breath and cut in. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Simon. And yes, I agree, women who put their careers ahead of their personal relationships are such bitches, aren’t they?’

She scratched over his phone number with her pen until it disappeared in a black inky mess. ‘Absolutely, no future for us. No need to call me ever again, forget you ever knew me. Goodbye.’

She put down the phone with a satisfied smirk. Any man who called her a career-minded bitch deserved to be dumped. Simon’s attitude reminded her of her ex. David had been furious when she refused to use her contacts to advance his medical career at the expense of her own. Of course, he’d paid her back when he divorced her, but after three years, she was finally able to see his treachery as a good thing.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the number before she picked it up, just in case Mr Dempsey had decided to call back and say all the clever things he’d meant to say during their first go-around. But it was only Nancy, the head nurse at the outpatients’ clinic.

‘Dr Kinsale, just thought you should know the Sundance Kid is here.’

Helen groaned. When would Nancy get tired of that old joke?

‘Thanks, Nancy. I’ll be there in a moment.’

Just her luck. Her last patient of the day was one of the most irritating male specimens she had ever operated on: Jay Turner, Robert Redford lookalike and soon to be ex-rodeo star. She’d managed to fix his shattered knee but, despite months of intense rehabilitation and therapy, he’d never be able to compete professionally again.

Today was the day she had to break that particular piece of news to him. She knew he wasn’t going to be happy. Successful sportsmen tended to have alpha personalities and egos to match. Jay Turner was no exception.

With a sigh, she got up and buttoned herself into a clean white coat. She located his chart on her desk and tucked it under her arm. Might as well get it over with.

Jay Turner looked completely out of his element in the prim confines of the blue and pink wallpapered examination room. He sat on the side of the examining table, arms folded across his broad chest, bare legs crossed at the ankles. Even though he wore one of the unappealing paper hospital gowns, her stomach gave its usual odd leap at the sight of his long muscled legs and handsome face. Like most cowboys, he looked incomplete without his hat. To conceal her instinctive feminine approval, she always tried extra hard to keep him at a distance.

‘Mr Turner. It’s good to see you again.’

He didn’t get up and she didn’t offer her hand. He slowly inclined his head an inch. Up close, she could see the new lines pain had engraved on his face. His chart said he’d lost weight.

‘Could you lie back for me?’

He stretched out, arms by his sides, fists clenched. Helen carefully examined his right knee. Like most bull riders, his skin was studded with the reminders of previous injuries. The new surgical scars would fade over time but the damage within would always be there. She touched his skin, felt his tremor of response as she probed his reconstructed patella.

‘We’ll get another X-ray, just to be sure, but I think overall, it’s healed up nicely.’

She turned to write something on his chart. He sat up and slowly lowered his legs to the ground. ‘Are you going to do the X-ray now or can I go?’

She glanced up and found him standing too close to her. His aftershave held the scent of lemons. ‘You can get the X-ray done anytime in the next week but I would still like to talk to you after you get dressed.’

He frowned and glanced at his watch. ‘OK, I’ll wait.’

Helen bristled at his grudging tone. She was the doctor with the demanding schedule. What else did he have to do today?

‘Oh wow, I didn’t realize you were so busy, thanks for making time for me.’

As soon as she said it she regretted her sarcasm. What was it about Jay Turner that made her want to behave like a shrew? He was too pretty, too arrogant and too . . . too much for her to deal with in such a small space.

‘You’re welcome.’

His slow grin was meant to irritate her. Did he think she’d fall to her knees and beg his pardon just because he had a smile like that? She deliberately stood up taller.

He gestured at his clothes. ‘I’ll put these on then.’ Still holding her gaze, he reached behind his neck and tugged at the strings that held the gown together. Turning his back, he gave her a glorious view of his naked body from shoulder to heel. She barely resisted an uncharacteristic urge to bite his ass just to see if it was as firm as it looked.

She knew from experience that horse riding gave cowboys a head start when it came to making love. Stamina, lower body strength, abs like steel . . .

Jay Turner cleared his throat and she forced her gaze away from his body.

‘I’ll go and order that X-ray. I’ll be back in a minute.’ Her voice sounded too high-pitched.

She rushed out of the room before she could react to the sound of his hospital gown hitting the floor. Why did her hormones have to decide to get all excited now? Jay was her patient. He was five years younger than her. She was obliged by her medical oath to treat him with respect.

After walking a few steps, she stared down at her blank prescription pad. She wanted to grab his ass and hang on as he thrust inside her. She wanted to lick the sweat off his muscled biceps and comb her fingers through his thick corn-colored hair.

She realized she was standing in the middle of the hall, pen poised over her pad. What was wrong with her? That wasn’t how she felt at all. She disliked him, didn’t she? The only consolation was that he certainly didn’t seem too keen on her. Even if he noticed her salivating over his ass, she had nothing to worry about.

After scribbling her signature on the prescription she turned back toward the room. She even knocked on the door just to make sure she didn’t have to witness any more of his delectable body.

He’d resumed his position on the exam table, booted feet planted firmly on the floor. He wore jeans and a faded blue T-shirt which matched his eyes. Helen took the only chair and opened her file. She’d learnt that the best way to deliver bad news was to do it fast.

‘Your knee has healed well. The new cartilage implants, combined with the strengthened patella, should make normal movement possible.’ She concentrated her gaze on his face. ‘If you were Mr Average, you would probably not notice much difference in your activity and ability level. But for a professional athlete, the damage is far more serious.’

He folded his arms, his face impassive, and nodded for her to go on.

‘Your knee will not hold up if you attempt to ride in any professional rodeo events, including bull riding.’

‘Are you saying I have to stop competing?’

‘I’m saying that if you do decide to compete and you get injured, you will risk your future ability to walk normally again. There are only so many times a knee can be rebuilt, Mr Turner.’

A muscle twitched in his cheek. ‘And if I won’t take your advice?’

She handed him a copy of a letter from the PBR sports medicine team. ‘Obviously, you are welcome to seek another opinion. I’ve already talked to Dr T and his team. They agree with me. In fact, you don’t have to come and see me anymore after this. You can continue to see Dr T.’

He studied the letter. It trembled slightly in his hand as he held it out in front of him.

‘In time, and with continued therapy, I believe you will be able to ride a horse again and manage most ranch work.’

He handed her back the letter. ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’

‘No, I don’t think anything I say will do that.’ She held his gaze, saw the mingled anguish and anger before he blinked them away. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Turner. I wish things were different.’

He shrugged. ‘Aren’t you going to say I told you so?’

Helen stood up, the file crushed to her chest. ‘You’re a grown man. You made your own decisions.’

He slid off the gurney. ‘If I’d listened to you a year ago and stayed away for a few more months to heal up, I might have avoided this.’

She hesitated. ‘We don’t know that. You were just unlucky. It happens sometimes.’ She remembered to hand him the prescription and half-turned to the door. ‘If you could get this done in the next few days I can schedule a new appointment. When you’ve had time to think things through, we can discuss how to proceed with the transfer of your treatment to the sports medicine team.’

He smiled, the cocky glint back in his eyes. ‘If I was a horse, you would’ve had the pleasure of putting me out of my misery back in the Arco Arena. No need to see me ever again.’

Helen turned fully toward him and held her ground. ‘If you are unhappy with the care I’ve given you, Mr Turner . . .’

He held up his hand and took a step toward her. ‘That’s not what I said. I reckon you have the balls to put a horse down. You’re one hell of a frightening woman.’

He took another step closer and she felt her temper rise. Great, another man who felt he had the right to make unflattering comments on her character just because she had proven to be correct. She realized she was backed up against the door.

‘I could put an animal out of its misery if I had to. Are you suggesting I’m unfeminine, that a real woman wouldn’t dream of dirtying her hands like that?’ She clutched her files like a shield as he loomed over her. ‘Real women can do anything they put their minds to.’

He smiled and her stomach did that peculiar flip. She stiffened as he reached out and touched her full lower lip with his callused thumb.

‘Who shoved the stick up your ass that makes you think you’re so damned perfect?’

She tried to laugh. ‘I’m not perfect. You’ve never liked me because I didn’t immediately lie down and worship you.’

He repeated the subtle caress. ‘Hell, I wouldn’t want you lying down yet. On your knees would be good enough to start with.’

Helen glared at him, waiting for the anger simmering inside her to explode. But he was her patient. He’d just received devastating news and this was obviously his way of dealing with it. She had to remember that.

‘You should go.’

‘Why? Am I scaring you? Are most of the guys you date too intimidated to cross you?’ He leant in and brushed her mouth with his own. ‘I’ve had a lot of leisure time recently and I’ve been dreaming about doing this.’

Before she could do more than take a quick indignant breath, he nipped at her lower lip and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She expected him to be angry but he kissed with a slow thoroughness that weakened her resistance. Within a few seconds, her hand was buried in his thick hair, holding him close.

When he drew back, she was panting. His big body held her pinned against the door. She could feel the heat of his erection against her stomach. Nancy laughed in the hall just outside the door. All she had to do was scream and someone would hear her.

‘Let me go.’

Jay shook his head. ‘I haven’t finished yet.’ His mouth returned to hers and he began his slow torturous kisses again. His hips rocked gently forward until she wanted to climb him and press herself against the warm inviting bulge in his jeans.

She couldn’t seem to stop kissing him back. Her body was on fire and her knees were trembling. She’d never felt like this before. No man had ever been so disrespectful, so insistent and so devastatingly male.

He broke off the kiss and stared down at her. ‘You see? That’s what you needed – a bit of heat to melt all that ice. Now we just need to work on getting that stick out of your ass and putting my cock there instead.’

She stared into his eyes. Oh God, all she could think about was him bending over her naked body, cock poised to penetrate her aching flesh.

She thumped on his chest and he stepped back. The papers from her files were strewn around their feet like confetti. She couldn’t stop watching him as he wiped her lipstick from his mouth and smoothed a hand over the front of his jeans. Shouldn’t she be screaming sexual abuse? Shouldn’t she be doing anything rather than watch him absently caress his erect cock?

‘You should go.’

He turned to pick up his jacket and his Stetson. ‘I’ll go if you’ll have dinner with me tonight.’

‘Are you serious?’

He grinned. ‘Why not? We seem to be getting along so well.’

She scrabbled on the floor to retrieve her papers. Did he think she was too much of a coward to take him up on his offer? After her ex-husband’s betrayal, she’d promised herself she would never back down from another man.