The Doctor Wore Spurs (4 page)

"Really?" Trina studied the photo. "He looks a little stiff."

"Think so?" Tyler said with a slight snicker. "Looks like a fun guy to me."

Gordon's face was so solemn he almost looked funereal. Jill put the photo on the opposite corner of her desk and defended him. "Gordon is a gentleman, very stable, and he isn't a flirt."

"Sounds like an old gelding my brother has at the ranch," Tyler said.

Trina giggled.

Jill gave her a withering glance and resisted the urge to stomp her foot and scream. In the space of five minutes, her peaceful office had turned into a three-ring circus.

Trina's phone rang, relieving her of one of the rings.

Jill turned back to Tyler. "You had a question about your modeling assignment?"

"Yeah, but I'd also like to know more about Gordie, here," he said.

She tapped her foot, the sound of her impatience muffled by the carpet. "I've already told you about him, and you've seen his picture and his taste in flowers."

"And his taste in women," he concluded, looking at her curiously. "Does he turn you on?"

"That's really none of your business, but turning each other on may not always be the most important thing in a relationship. There are respect, kindness, loyalty—"

"You can get those from your horse."

Jill counted to ten. "I don't have a horse." She redirected the conversation once more. "You had a question about the modeling?"

Tyler put his hands on his hips and sighed. "Yeah. What kind of compensation do I get?"

Jill did a double take. "All of the money earned as a result of your pictures will be donated to the new wing. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"That's okay," Tyler said. "But it occurred to me that a lot of people, including hospital employees, will benefit from the wing, but since I'm the one working the gig, there should be something extra in it for me. Don't you agree?"

Her jaw worked in silence. It was difficult for her to disagree, but— She shrugged. "What did you have in mind?"

"Since I'm doing something for you, I'd like you to do some things for me," he said with a glint in his eye that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Wary, she tried to read him. "What 'things'?"

He chuckled. "Don't worry. It doesn't involve pictures or billboards. You can keep your clothes on," he said, then added, "if you want."

Her stomach dipped at the lazy invitation in his eyes. "What 'things'?" she repeated.

"Just a few field trips. A trip to a ranch, visiting a few famous Fort Worth landmarks. We'll start with the ranch this weekend," he said.

Jill's heart flew into her throat. She coughed. She wanted to decrease her proximity to Tyler, not increase it. "W-w-wait a minute. This weekend? As in forty-eight hours?"

He nodded. "Yep."

"That's too soon."

"When will the photographer start snapping at me?"

"He won't snap," she said. "At least not that way. He starts today. He'll follow you around."

"Would you like that? Having a photographer follow you around, watching your every move?"

"No, but your ego is bigger than—"

He pressed his finger over her lips, his laser-blue eyes inches from hers. "We're not going to start talking about size again, are we?" He traced the shape of her mouth with his finger.

Jill's mouth went dry.

"If the photographer's going to dog me today, then you can take a little trip to West Texas this weekend."

"I...I really don't think this is necessary."

"Maybe, but it's fair," he said. "If I'm putting my mug on billboards and losing my privacy for the sake of the wing, then you should be willing to take a few field trips, don't you think?"

She didn't agree with his reasoning, but she couldn't exactly argue with it, either. "But why?"

"I get my curiosity satisfied," he said, his glance heating her from head to toe, "if nothing else. And my curiosity is a powerful thing. Bigger than my ego," he said with an edge to his voice. "I bet yours is, too. Pack your jeans. We'll take my bike," he told her, and his lips twitched. "Maybe you can try out that gelding while I'm there and see if you like the ride he gives you."

Jill spent the rest of the afternoon supervising the shoot of Tyler's pictures and trying to think of a way to get out of going on the weekend outing. Tyler indulged the photographer for nearly three hours, then told the man to get lost.

By the end of the day she was exhausted, but she had one more thing to do. Jill hadn't forgotten her original purpose for coming to Fort Worth General Hospital. Yes, she intended to make the project for the wing a bang-up success, but she also intended to conquer her past. It was time to take another step.

With ammonia salts in her suit jacket pocket, she walked to the elevator and pushed the floor for the nursery. Watching the numbers illuminate as she passed each floor, she took a deep breath when the elevator stopped and the doors whooshed open.

"I can do this," she whispered, and slowly walked down the hall.

"I can do this," she whispered again clenching her fists and biting her lip. Her hands grew clammy as the sight of the nursery windows came into view. She slowed even more and took deep, even breaths.

She stepped in front of the large windows and closed her eyes to steady herself. Then she carefully opened them and looked at the array of layettes filled with infants wrapped like mummies in blue and pink blankets. Most were sleeping. A few cried, their tiny faces straining with exertion.

She touched her tummy, remembering, wishing she had been able to see her precious baby screaming his lungs out in the hospital nursery. She wished she had a memory, just one, of holding her grasshopper alive in her arms. The emptiness twisted her heart and she felt tears stream down her cheeks.

From the glare of the lights, Jill saw her reflection in the nursery window and shoved her hands in her pockets in search of a tissue. "Damn," she muttered under her breath, swiping at her tears. Ammonia didn't do a thing for a runny nose.

A handkerchief was pressed into her hand, and she glanced into the reflection of the window again. Her heart raced. Tyler, towering over her, gazing down at her.

He'd caught her. Worse yet, he'd caught her crying. Maybe fainting wouldn't be such a bad idea right now, after all.

She felt his arms close around her and was too surprised to speak. She stiffly allowed him to hold her, overwhelmed at the warmth and comfort he generated.

"I know one of your secrets now," he said.

She tensed, closing her eyes. She didn't want him knowing secrets about her.

"Babies make you cry."

He said it so simply, as if she were like a million others who got a little weepy at the sight of newborns. She smiled at the same time her stomach clenched. He'd given her an out. She could like him for that. His flirting wouldn't get her, but his kindness could. He was dangerous, but she'd sensed that from the beginning.

"You're right," she said, looking into laser-blue eyes that saw too much. "Babies make me cry." If she had her way, he'd never learn why.

He shifted his helmet to his hip and pulled his sunglasses off his face. "That's okay. I'm not cut out for modeling, either. I'll get your bag," he said, and brushed past her.

"That's not necessary," Jill said, rushing after him as he took the steps two at a time. She couldn't help noticing his long, strong legs and very nice— She cut off the thought. "I've got a few more things to put in my suitcase."

He rounded the corner to her bedroom. "Can't take a suitcase on the motorcycle. If you don't have a duffel bag, I have room in mine."

"But—"

She watched him scoop up her lingerie, jeans and shirts in one fell swoop. "Got a bag?" he asked her.

Something about the sight of his fingers wrapped around her panties and bras gave her the hiccups. Spurred into action, she grabbed a tote bag from the closet and reached for her clothes. "This should work," she said, blindly forcing the clothes into the bag.

She glanced up to find him holding a lone pair of purple French-cut silk panties. He looked at the panties, then his gaze drifted over her breasts and lower to her hips. She felt his gaze like a touch. His eyes met hers, and his expression brought a scaldingly sexual visual to her mind.

Sex.

Jill couldn't remember the last time she'd been in the mood for sex. It had been at least three years.

Fighting the heat rising from her toes to her cheeks, she snatched the scrap of silk from his hands and crammed it into the bag. "Let me grab a few toiletries."

In the master bath, she threw a few basics into a smaller bag. Her mind screaming a dozen protests, she returned to the bedroom. There he stood, next to her bed, dressed in leather and denim, taking up too much space and too much oxygen, namely hers.

Heaven help her, how was she going to get through this weekend?

"I'm ready," she muttered, and shoved the toiletry bag into the tote.

His lips twitched. "Think of it as a broadening experience."

"The only reason I'm going is because I've seen the first batch of your photos."

He grinned. "I must be too good to resist."

"You're right," she said, stomping down the stairs. "The public won't be able to resist you." But she would. She had to. He led the way outside, and Jill locked the door behind her. "How far away is the ranch?"

"About a hundred and sixty miles," he said. "We can use the microphones so you don't get bored."

"Microphones?"

"Microphones so we can talk while we're riding on my bike," he said, putting her bag in a compartment in the back of the motorcycle.

She looked at Tyler's big black bike, and that was when it hit her. In the back of her mind she had known she would be joining him on the bike, but she must have pushed the fact that her body would be pressed intimately against his for over two hours from her mind. She quickly calculated miles and time and bit her lip.

Two and a half hours of being wrapped around Dr. Tyler Logan. Trina would be in ecstasy. Jill would be in hell. She was beginning to think that Tyler was to her what kryptonite was to a certain superhero. Disaster.

During the first thirty miles, Jill played mind games with herself. Tyler was everything she didn't want in a man, she told herself as her fingers curled into his taut abdomen through his T-shirt. She didn't like the way his back felt against her breasts. She didn't like the way he smelled, a seductive mix of musk and masculinity. She didn't like the way his dark hair curled slightly at his nape. For that matter, she didn't like the way the man breathed.

"Tell me about Gordie."

She heard his voice through her earphone and blinked. "Gordie?"

"Yeah, the guy who sent the flowers and the bad picture."

"The picture wasn't bad," she said, defending Gordon.

"It wasn't?" He chuckled. "Poor guy."

"That wasn't nice. Gordon is a kind man. He's very stable, very even-tempered, very—"

"Boring."

"That's not fair."

"But true. What do you like about him? That he's not threatening? That he doesn't ruffle your feathers?"

"I appreciate his intelligence and stability. He's very loyal."

"I told you he sounds like a gelding at the ranch."

Jill just groaned.

"Looks like he wants to be more than your boss," Tyler said. "How do you feel about that?"

Jill shifted uncomfortably. "Gordon has many wonderful qualities. Any woman would be fortunate to be involved with him."

"Which means you're not interested."

"I didn't say that."

"Yeah, but you weren't enthusiastic. You still could have been talking about the gelding or a faithful dog. No passion."

The wind whipping at her face and hair, Jill glared at his back. "Passion is overrated."

"If you had experienced true passion you wouldn't say that."

"I suppose you have."

"I've gotten close. But I've seen the real thing in action between my brother and his fiancée. You'll see what I mean when you meet them. They're getting married in a few weeks."

"Does she have a ranching background?" Jill asked, thinking that would be necessary for marriage to a rancher.

Tyler chuckled. "None, zero, zip. Felicity lived in Manhattan her entire life, but now she has seen the light and she realizes Texas is the best place anyone could live."

Jill's lips twitched at his state pride. "Have you ever been to Hawaii?"

"Nice place to visit, but Texas is the best place to live. Keep your eyes open and you might see the light, too."

Jill kept her eyes open for the rest of the ride despite the monotonous landscape. By the time Tyler pulled into the long driveway, she was more than ready to dismount the bike.

Her knees buckled when she slid over the side, and Tyler caught her. "Whoa. Take your time."

"My knees feel like jelly and my bottom is numb."

"Need a massage?" he offered with a bad-boy grin, and skimmed his hand over her hip.

Her heart jolted and she stumbled backward. "No. I'll be fine in a minute."

"Uncle Tyler!" a young girl and boy chorused from the porch, then ran toward him.

"Hey, you guys, come here and meet someone," Tyler shouted, then said to Jill, "My two favorite angels or brats...depending on the day."

He swung both up in his arms and the sight of the two kids smiling and laughing tugged at Jill's heart. "Dad had to check on a herd near the stream, but Felicity got Addie to bake
two
chocolate pies!" the girl said.

"Felicity is the best thing that's happened to this place since—" Tyler broke off, looking at the kids and grinning. "—since
you!
How's school going?"

"I made the honor roll," the girl said.

"You always make the honor roll," the boy said, then grinned with pride. "I did, too."

"Way to go. We have geniuses," Tyler said, giving each a high-five. He turned them to face Jill. "Jill Hershey, I'd like you to meet the two smartest, best kids in Texas—my nephew Jacob and my niece, Bree. Jill is a public relations sorceress who is going to get my hospital a new wing for pediatric cardiology patients."

"A sorceress?" Bree echoed, her Logan eyes bright with curiosity.

"It's nice to meet you both. Your uncle is exaggerating. Has he ever done that before?"

Bree waved her hand. "Oh, all the time. You must be pretty good if he called you a sorceress, though. Uncle Tyler doesn't believe in magic or curses."

"Well, I do!" The cultured yet warm voice drew everyone's attention.

Jill looked at the slim, smiling, attractive woman and felt like a hillbilly cousin.

Tyler grinned. "Flip, you're looking more like a rancher's wife every day," he said, taking in her silk blouse and slacks.

"There you go criticizing my clothes again. I wanted to look nice for your visitor," she said, and added meaningfully, "a
woman.
"
She extended her hand to Jill. "Welcome. I'm Felicity. Would you like something to drink and a chance to freshen up?"

"Thank you. That would be nice."

"Brock should be back soon," Felicity said.

"The Coltranes again?" Tyler asked with a grimace.

"Of course. I asked him if he wanted me to beat them up, but—" She broke off with a shrug.

"Let me guess. After he stopped laughing he said no."

Felicity's lips twitched. "How'd you guess? Come on, Jill. Let me show you around."

She followed Felicity's lead while the kids bounced along beside them. "Felicity, will you play piano with me today?" Jacob asked.

"I was going to ask her," Bree said.

"Why don't you play with me?" Tyler asked, and Jill nearly tripped in surprise.

"
You
play the piano?"

"I'm a man of many talents," he told her with the barest invitation in his voice. "You should take the time to find out about all of them."

"I'm sure there are too many for me to fathom in the short time I'll be in Texas," she said sweetly.

"Touché," Felicity said, and hooked her arm through Jill's. "I like her. Can I borrow her from Fort Worth on a regular basis?"

"I don't know how Brock will feel about having two city girls around."

"He'll love it," Felicity said with a confident smile. "He likes city girls now."

Felicity led the way up the wooden porch of the large home. When she walked through the door, Jill immediately felt a sense of history. Spotting the portraits of family members on the wall and smelling the scent of polished wood, she soaked in the atmosphere. "Wow," she said, "I can feel the generations."

Felicity nodded. "It was the same for me the first time I came here, too. It sounds strange, but there's a lot of emotion in these walls. Here's the kitchen and dining room. Let me get you some lemonade," Felicity said and poured a glass from a pitcher in the refrigerator. "Down the hall is the library which I invaded when I arrived."

Jill peeked in the large room featuring a desk and a baby grand piano. The windows were bare except for a blue satin header at the top. Feeling an odd bittersweet tug, she walked in and spotted the portrait of a lovely woman on the wall. "Who is she?"

"Brock, Tyler and Martina's mother. She's lovely, isn't she?"

"Yes." There was a lively gentleness in the woman's eyes. She had seen it echoed in Tyler. The thought softened her heart.

"The men adored her. She taught both boys to play piano. Martina didn't get a chance. Her mother died giving birth to her."

Jill's chest tightened, her own experience haunting her. "Tyler told me. How terrible."

"Yes, it was. Their father shut himself off after that, and I think all the children suffered, perhaps Tyler and Martina the most."

"Why Tyler and Martina?"

"Brock was always going to do the ranch, so he got some attention from that. But Tyler," Felicity said with a grin, "was destined for something different. Brock stood up for him, but Tyler's had a tough road. And Martina looked so much like her mother that Papa Logan couldn't bear to look at her. It's a miracle they turned out so well."

Her respect for Tyler grew. He could have become a much different person, bitter, fearful. Instead, he fixed children's broken hearts.

"And then there's the curse," Felicity said with a groan.

"The curse," Jill echoed, then remembered Tyler mentioning it before. "I think Tyler told me something about it. He said he didn't believe in it."

Felicity gave a snort. "The advantage with Brock was that he did believe in it. That meant all I had to do was break it."