The Doctor Wore Spurs (3 page)

"Bumper stickers," Trina said.

"Yes. Great," Jill said. "I'd like you to call the on-site PR coordinator so I can bounce this off her as soon as possible and arrange for a photographer."

Trina nodded. "And do you want me to call Dr. Logan, too?"

Jill shook her head. "Not until I take care of the groundwork."

"But what if he won't do it?" Trina asked. "Some men, even good-looking men are funny about getting their picture taken."

Jill chuckled. Tyler's picture wasn't just going to be taken. If she had her way, the campaign would be plastered across all the local media along with a few billboards. "I don't think we'll have a problem with Tyler." She thought about his Texas-size ego. "He'll like this."

"I don't like this," Tyler said late that afternoon when Jill told him her plan.

She did a double take. "Why? You're handsome and appealing. I'm sure the camera will love you as will everyone who sees your pictures. We'll get the funding for the wing in no time and you'll probably get a few hundred decent and indecent proposals, too. You'll be a hometown hero."

He supposed he could feel flattered that Jill thought he was handsome. He wouldn't mind her stroking more than his ego. At the moment, however, he felt more like a prize bull being readied for a parade around the stockyard. Uneasy, Tyler shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm not celebrity material."

She cocked her head to one side, her eyes glinting with a curiosity that grabbed at his gut and shimmied down. "Don't sell yourself short. Besides, this will be temporary."

"Five minutes?" he asked dryly.

She smiled gently. "Two weeks intensive, two more weeks of follow-up."

Tyler stifled an oath. "Don't you have any other ideas?"

Her face puzzled, Jill stood. "Yes, but this one is the best."

"This sounds an awful lot like that stupid bachelor calendar the Daughters of Texas put together every year," he grumbled. "I hear most of the guys don't wear much more than briefs and oil."

Jill chuckled, then bit her lip as if she sensed he wasn't amused. "You'll be wearing the clothes you wear to work. I must confess oil had not entered my mind."

He scratched his jaw. "I like my privacy. I'm not cut out to be a poster boy. All I want is to do my surgery, take care of my patients and lead my life the way I want. If I'd wanted a lot of attention, I would've chosen the rodeo."

Jill shook her head. "I would have sworn you would do just about anything for this wing."

He thought about the wing: how important it was to him and how important it would be to the patients. "I would," he said slowly, the words torn from him. "If it's absolutely necessary," he added. "I'm surprised you want me to do the media. I'm not the most politically correct guy in the corral. Have you talked with Clarence?"

"No, but you don't need to be totally politically correct. You're passionate about what you do. With very little coaching, that passion will come through."

Feeling trapped, Tyler swiped his hand over his face. "My brother will never let me live this down. What in hell made you come up with this idea?"

Her smooth, composed expression faltered, and her cheeks bloomed with color. "Just a side remark Trina made. It doesn't really matter. It was just part of the creative process. The results are what matters."

Her discomfort piqued his curiosity. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, well, since I've just been signed on to the Jill Hershey Modeling Agency, I'd like to know how it came about."

She glanced away and waved her hand in a dismissing gesture. "It was just a silly remark. I'm sure you know Trina is a fan of yours."

"What was the remark?"

She rearranged the location of a pencil holder on her desk. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yep."

She looked up and sighed. "She said you had the best backside of any doctor she'd ever seen."

"So you picked me for my butt. How shallow," he said in an amused voice. "I'm surprised at you."

"This is not about your butt," she said. "I chose you because you will photograph well and you embody the image of a true Texan and the possibility, the dream of a hero."

"It's about image and press."

She lifted her chin. "It's about understanding what the public's dreams are. I believe most people feel there has been a shortage of heroes. By using you, your image, and what you do we not only give people the dream of a hero, we offer them the opportunity to be heroes, too." She paused a half beat and could have knocked him flat with the expression in her gaze. "I dare you."

Silence followed, but Tyler felt as if a lightning bolt had cracked through him. Her passion, the same passion he felt, sparked from her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed with it. Her voice resonated with it. He felt an inexplicable promise of fulfillment, of a missing piece he hadn't thought was missing. In that moment he craved her in every way a man could crave a woman, and he'd never felt that way before.

He bit back an oath and tried to cover his confusion with a chuckle. "Okay, when do I strip?"

She blinked, and the color in her cheeks intensified. "You won't have to strip," she said weakly.

"Now I know why they call you a sorceress," he said.

"I'm not a sorceress," she quickly denied. "I just get the job done."

"No, you do more. You get people health care they need and give the contributors something they need. That's more than getting the job done." He held her gaze, the thread of connection drawing him while her eyes warned him off. "What about you, Jill? Who is your hero?"

The light in her eyes dimmed a little, but her posture remained erect. "I learned the hard way not to count on someone else to be my hero. I can be my own hero."

He felt a strange stinging sensation and fought the strangest, craziest desire to be her hero. Pushing the insanity inside, he replaced it with another. "What are you doing for dinner?"

"It's been a long day, but I'd like to sketch out some more ideas while they're fresh in my head. I'm eating at home," she said firmly.

I do not want to spend my evening with you,
she might as well have said. Tyler got her message loud and clear. If he was the nice guy everyone thought he was, he would comply with her wishes; and if he told himself she wasn't worth his time, he would leave her alone.

Jill's doorbell rang at eight o'clock while she was listening to a classical music CD and writing potential ad slogans. Frowning, she glanced at the door and rose. Since she'd just arrived in Fort Worth a few days ago, she hadn't really made any friends, so she couldn't imagine who— She looked through the peephole and saw Tyler wearing a cocky grin and carrying a small brown paper bag.

She opened the door and blocked the doorway. She didn't want him in her temporary home tonight. The man took up entirely too much space of every room he entered. He could make a wheat field feel crowded.

"Hi," he said. "Since you fainted in my arms last night, I thought I should make sure you're okay tonight. No relapses?"

"Thank you. None. I'm fine."

"I forgot to tell you that TJ made it through the surgery today."

She felt a softening inside her. "Thank you. I'm glad to hear that. I'll have to go visit him."

He lifted the bag. "Also brought some Blue Bell ice cream to share with you and find out more about my modeling assignment."

Give up,
Jill told herself. "Come in," she said, unable to conceal her reticence.

He gave a bad-boy grin and sauntered inside. "You were going to let me stay out there all night." He made a tsking sound. "I can see you need some exposure to our Texan hospitality. What made you let me in? My smile, charm or great butt?"

Just for fun, she was sorely tempted to say his great butt. "Ice cream," she told him. "It's one of my five basic food groups."

He plastered a crestfallen expression on his face. "The ice cream was a bonus. I was supposed to be the main draw. I don't know if my ego can take this."

"Oh, I'm sure it can," she said. "Isn't it the biggest part of you?"

"Oh," he said, giving a rough chuckle and shaking his head. He moved closer, crowding her. "That's a terrible thing to say to a man. You know you're asking for trouble, don't you?"

"You said that. Not me," he said, moving closer.

She took a step backward. Her heart still racing, she struggled to remain rational. "This is silly. You have an entire hospital full of women interested in you. The only reason you're doing this is because I'm not interested in you."

"You're not?" he said, his voice rippling over her nerve endings.

She took another step back. "I told you I'm here to do a job."

"And you're not at all attracted to me," he said.

Jill took another step and felt the wall behind her. "You're a flirt."

He nodded. "You don't like flirts."

"I haven't had good experience with flirts."

He went still for a moment and stared
into
her, not at her, into her, and she could almost swear he could read her. "Your husband was a flirt," he said, and gently lifted his hand to her cheek.

His touch made something inside her tumble free. She closed her eyes to fight the feeling.

"He was an idiot."

"How do you know?" she whispered, appalled at the burning sensation behind her eyes.

"He had you forever, but he let you go," he said, then his mouth touched hers.

His lips were warm and searching. She felt the same searching inside her. He brushed against her lips back and forth, coaxing, inviting. Jill opened, and he tasted her and she tasted him. She tugged gently on his bottom lip, and his groan vibrated in all her secret places. He pressed his chest against her and she immediately felt her nipples harden. His hand molded her jaw, caressing her. His tongue teased her, her brain clouded with his musky masculine scent, and she wanted more. She wanted his strong arms around her, his hard body pressed against hers. She wanted the rush and heat of passion. She wanted to make him lose his cocky control, and she wanted him to make her lose hers.

Her body straining toward his, she wanted. What she wanted was insanity.

Self-preservation trickled in and she turned her head and gasped for air. "This is crazy," she whispered. "Crazy, crazy, crazy, and not smart."

"Maybe," Tyler admitted. "But there's something between you and me that's—"

Jill groaned and covered her face with her hand. "You're not going to say this is bigger than the two of us, are you?"

He pulled her hand away. "No." His eyes grew serious. "But there's something between us I haven't felt before."

"Are you sure it isn't the way I say no?"

He tugged her hair. "I'm sure."

"Do you want me to tell you all the sensible reasons we shouldn't get involved?"

"No."

"But you're commitment shy or phobic, plus I'm not going to be here all that long," she told him.

"All the more reason not to waste time," he said. "To find out what it is."

"I don't think I'm cut out for this."

"What?" he asked, sliding his hand through her hair. "Not cut out for finding out how much you like me?"

"I didn't come here for this. I came here to get your wing and for me to—" She broke off, abruptly realizing she was disclosing more than she wanted.

His gaze intensified. "My wing and for you to what?"

She took a breath, brushed his hand away and stepped aside. "I have my reasons for accepting the job. Some are professional. Some are personal."

"What are they?"

The teeniest part of her wanted to unburden herself, but it would be a mistake to confide in Tyler. She needed to handle this on her own, and she didn't need a crazy whirlwind involvement with Dr. Cowboy. "I prefer not to discuss it."

"Maybe I can help."

"You can't," she said. "Let's just leave well enough alone."

He shook his head and gently smiled, his gaze promising that he wasn't done with her. That gaze put a mixture of dread and excitement in her heart and made her knees lose their starch. "Jill, honey," he said in a chiding voice, "you and I both know that well enough alone never is."

The woman bothered him. Tyler didn't know if it was the combination of pain and fire in her gaze or his itch to push past her prissy demeanor to find out what was underneath, but Jill Hershey bothered him. And now that he'd kissed her, she bothered him even more.

After he arrived at his apartment, he glanced at the starless night and tossed a tarp over his bike and walked inside. He didn't bother turning on the light. He was too restless for it.

Women didn't affect him this way. Yes, they aroused him. Yes, they amused him. But they didn't bother him. They didn't make him wonder if he might be missing something important. He frowned.

The phone rang, interrupting his dark mood. He answered it impatiently.

An extra second of silence followed. "Who spit in your cornflakes?"

Tyler chuckled at the sound of his older brother's voice. "Hi, Brock. What's up?"

"I just want to make sure you remember there's a wedding coming up and your presence is not optional."

Tyler grinned. "I wouldn't miss seeing you get yourself tied to Felicity for anything. She's not getting cold feet, is she?"

"Don't you worry about me or Felicity. I'm keeping her warm."

Tyler heard the sound of satisfaction in his brother's voice and felt a surprising tinge of envy. He shook his head at the feeling. "And you've decided the Logan Curse is a bunch of bull as I always said, right?"

"No, the Logan Curse is real. I just found the woman who can break it for me. You'll have to do the same for yourself."

Tyler snorted in disbelief.

"You go ahead and deny it sunup to sundown," Brock said. "But if you really didn't believe in the curse, you would have gotten serious with at least one woman by now."

"That's almost as much bull as the curse itself. I just haven't met a woman who made me want to get serious."

"I guess not, when you're doing the two-step so fast you probably can't see straight."

Tyler sighed. "Why is it that every time someone gets married they feel compelled to convert the rest of the world to matrimony?"

"Hell, I'm not trying to convert you. You can be Texas's most eligible bachelor for the rest of your life if you want."

With his recent photo assignment, Brock's comment stuck in his craw. Tyler stifled a growl.

"Met anyone new lately?"

"Not really," Tyler said, then relented. "Well sorta. PR consultant for the hospital. She wants to turn me into a poster-boy pinup to raise money for the new pediatric cardiology wing."

"Poster-boy pinup?" Brock echoed.

"Yep."

"Do you have to do it in the buff?"

"No," Tyler said, finding a sweet irony in the fact that his and his brother's minds worked the same way at times. "She seems to think my mug will bring in the dough," Tyler said in disgust.

"She must be impressed with you."

"Not enough to—" He broke off and swore under his breath.

"Not enough to what? Fall in bed at your first line like every other woman."

"Stuff it, Brock," Tyler said, his impatience soaring again. "You know I don't take every woman I meet or even date to bed. This woman, she—" he made a sound of exasperation "—she doesn't like flirts."

Brock barked in laughter, and Tyler pulled the receiver away from his ear to glare at it.

He brought it back into place and frowned. "You're not helping."

"Sorry," he said, continuing to chuckle. "It's just so satisfying to see you come up against a woman who doesn't fall for your charms right off the bat. Looks like you've got a challenge in front of you."

"I just need to get her out of my system," Tyler said, his restlessness grating on him like fingernails on a chalkboard.

"That's what I said about Felicity. And the wedding's in three and a half weeks," Brock reminded him with another chuckle. "Bring her down for the weekend. I'd like to meet her."

Jill's sound machine was set to ocean waves; the sun danced on a suncatcher in her office window; her door was closed. All was at peace.

A sharp rap followed that thought, and her door burst open to reveal the man responsible for her lack of sleep last night.

"Hi," Tyler said, "I've been doing some thinking about this modeling business—"

Jill heard Trina squeal with delight. "They're beautiful!" Her assistant brought a bouquet of flowers and small package to her desk. "Look what just arrived for you. Who are they from?" Her attention quickly shifted to Tyler. "Oh, Dr. Logan. Jill gave me some questions I need to ask you to prepare the press for you."

Tyler's gaze was on the flowers. "Who sent them?"

"I don't know," she murmured, opening the card and wishing she didn't have an audience. It read: "Don't forget. Think about my offer. Love, Gordon."

"Oh," she said, unable to swallow her sigh. She had already thought about his offer and told him she wasn't ready for a long-term commitment with him even though she knew Gordon was what she'd said she wanted. He was kind, stable, not interested in having children, and he wasn't a flirt.

"Who sent them?" Tyler asked, walking over to the desk and touching a few of the roses in the arrangement.

Jill wished he would move away from her, she thought with a tinge of resentment as every inch of his six foot body emanated curiosity. She wished he would back off. Like maybe to Oklahoma. Maybe then her heart wouldn't jump and sputter. "My boss," she said, putting the arrangement on the other side of her desk so Tyler would keep his hands off it.

"I wish my boss would send me flowers like that," Trina said wistfully, then glanced at Tyler. "I wish anyone would send me flowers like that."

"He often sends flowers to us when we start a new out-of-town assignment," Jill said.

"What does the card say?" Tyler asked.

Jill blinked. "Why do you need to know?"

"Just curious."

"You still have a package to open," Trina said. "Let me get those questions, Dr. Logan."

Trina was back in a flash while Jill tore the paper.

"What is your favorite food?"

"I have two. Steak and ice cream. How did you like the Blue Bell ice cream I brought you last night?" he asked Jill.

Feeling Trina's curious gaze, she cleared her throat. "It was delicious. Thank you."

"Did you save any for me?"

She shook her head, feeling sheepish. She had felt incredibly deprived after Tyler had left, so it had been easy for her to polish off the double portion of ice cream.

"You ate all of it?" he asked incredulously.

She smiled. "When it comes to ice cream, it's every man for himself, or woman for herself."

"Your favorite extracurricular activities?" Trina interjected.

"Visiting my family ranch," Tyler said. "I don't have much time for that, let alone anything else. And I like to two-step with the right woman."

"I like to two-step, too," Trina said.

Jill rolled her eyes. "I can't."

"What's your favorite color?"

Jill felt his gaze on her from head to toe.

"Navy-blue," he said with the devil in his eyes.

She was wearing navy-blue. Her heart skipped a beat, and she turned her attention to the package and opened it.

"Your favorite music?"

"Country, of course," Tyler said.

Jill stared down at the framed photo of her boss and felt her stomach sink. "Don't forget me," a small slip of his notepaper said. When Trina and Tyler craned to see it, she quickly folded the note in her palm.

Tyler lifted an eyebrow. "Who is that?"

"Uh, my boss," Jill said, wishing she could make Tyler and her assistant disappear.