The Doctor Wore Spurs (7 page)

He tugged her closer. "It was a lot. More than anyone else has done for me in my adult life."

"Maybe because you seem so self-sufficient, so self-contained," she said.

"Like you," he said.

Her head moved up in surprise.

"Takes one to know one," he said with a slight grin, feeling the connection between them strengthen. He followed his instincts. "I'd like you to move in with me the rest of your time that you're here in Fort Worth."

Her eyes widened and her jaw worked. "Pardon?"

"I want you to move in with me," he said.

She shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"It's a great idea. We can be together and answer our questions."

Jill wondered if she was going to have a panic attack. She pulled her hand away. "It would be like opening Pandora's box."

He sat up, looking entirely too seductive, entirely too right in her bed, as if he belonged there. "Jill, if you didn't feel something for me, you would have thrown my rear end out of here."

Feeling as if she'd just drunk five cups of coffee, she stood. "I told you that was about human kindness."

"Completely impersonal," he said.

She started to nod, but hesitated. "Well, it wasn't completely impersonal."

"You're not attracted to me at all?"

"I didn't say that. You're not an ugly man," she said, growing more uneasy by the second. He should be wearing more clothes. He shouldn't be on her bed.

"Have you always run from something you might like?" he asked.

"I don't run," she corrected, but grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her. "I try to avoid things that might be bad for me."

Unruffled by her nervousness, he reclined on her bed as if he owned it. His mouth lifted in a maddening, sexy grin. "You're not saying I'm bad, are you?"

She picked up his jeans and tossed them at him. "Very bad. Get dressed. Get gone."

He made a tsking sound and slowly rose. "You need to learn more about our Texas hospitality. You'd learn in no time by living with me."

She held out his shirt to him. "I'm sure you'd teach me more than manners," she muttered under her breath.

He took his shirt and her hand, pulling her to him. His gaze made her heart flip-flop. "Jill, you can run, but you can't hide. Some things are inevitable."

That afternoon Trina brought in another bouquet of flowers.

"Oh, no," Jill said. "I'm going to have to call him and—"

"It's a different florist. Maybe they're from someone new."

Jill wrinkled her brow in confusion and reached for the card. "I can't imagine who—"

Thank you for last night. Tyler

Jill felt heat rise to her cheeks. Trina smiled.
"Well?"
she prompted.
"Is it someone new?"

"They, uh—"

Tyler burst into the room. "Ah, you got them," he said, nodding toward the flowers. "Thank you again for last night."

Trina's eyes grew as large as golf balls. "Dr. Logan," she said surprised and envious. She looked at Jill. "Last night? My goodness. I thought—"

"It's not the way it looks," Jill quickly said, thinking of the hospital grapevine. "Or sounds. Dr. Logan was upset and came to my condo last night."

Trina lifted her hand and shook her head. "Oh, you don't have to tell me any more." She backed out of the office, giving Tyler a wistful glance. "I really understand."

"No," Jill said, but Trina closed the door.

Jill turned back to Tyler. "Within three minutes it will be all over the hospital that we're sleeping together."

He grinned. "We did."

"Yes, but—" She broke off in frustration. "Tyler, why did you have to do this?"

"You don't like them? You liked the ones from Gordie well enough." He leaned across her desk. "Besides, isn't it polite for me to thank you?"

"Yes, but—" She sighed, remembering her own manners. "Thank you. They're lovely, and it was thoughtful of you."

"You're welcome. Change your mind about moving in with me?"

"No," she said.

"Well, keep tonight open," he said.

"I may be busy writing some radio spots," she told him, thinking she needed some breathing room from Tyler for her sanity.

"Not tonight. Time for another field trip," he told her.

"Not to the ranch," she said.

"No. A Fort Worth landmark. Important for your education of our fine city."

"I appreciate your kindness, but—"

He shook his head. "This is part of the barter for my modeling services."

"I thought the trip to the ranch covered that."

"Oh, no," he said. "That was just the first installment."

Jill had no idea how to dress for this field trip, so she slipped on a pair of black jeans and the only Western-style blouse she owned. She stepped into a pair of boots and the doorbell rang.

She opened it to Tyler who was wearing aviator sunglasses at dusk.

"What's with the shades?" she asked.

"It was either that or buy a wig," he grumbled, strolling into her condo and taking them off. "Do you have any idea how many people have already seen the billboards?"

Jill smiled. "Ohh, a celebrity already, huh?"

He bared his teeth in a nonsmile. "Something like that. It means I need a disguise and a bodyguard when I go out in public." Then he really smiled. "I want you to guard my body."

Jill rolled her eyes at the same time her skin warmed at the expression in his eyes. "What an invitation," she said. "Why me? I'm sure you can find any number of women who would be happy to guard your body day and—"

"I want you," he said, looking dead serious. "I don't want any number of women. I want you."

Her heart stuttered. His words had more impact than a kiss. "I, uh—" She swallowed and changed the subject. "I didn't know how to dress for the field trip. I imagine it could be anything from a hayride to a rodeo."

"No hayride," he said, his gaze falling over her, warming her. "You look good to me."

As he did to her. Good and
so
bad for her.

The noise of Billy Bob's dance hall hit her like a punch the second she and Tyler walked through the door. She looked at Tyler. "This is the field trip?" she said loudly as they walked past video games, pool tables, slot machines and throngs and throngs of people. She noticed an indoor rodeo ring, trophy animals on the walls and a glittering saddle hanging from the ceiling like a disco ball.

"I wanted you to experience some local color," he said, his lips twitching as he put on his aviator sunglasses.

"This is definitely colorful."

"Ready to two-step?"

"I don't know how," she admitted, gazing at the sea of dancers.

"It's easy," he said, taking her by the hand to the dance floor. "I'll show you."

His nearness immediately upset her equilibrium. His hand was strong in hers, his other firmly guiding her hip. As an old George Strait tune played, she tried to focus on his instructions. She stepped on his foot. "Sorry," she muttered, then stepped on his other foot. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I'm not sure I'm cowgirl material."

He chuckled. "Sure you are," he said. "I like the fringe," he told her sweeping an index finger over the fringed yoke of her shirt, dangerously close to her breast.

Jill held her breath. She couldn't see the expression in his eyes because he still wore the sunglasses.

The music shifted to a slow tune that didn't require the two-step. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.

Jill felt the beat of his heart against her chest as if it matched her own. Despite her clumsiness, despite the fact that she could never see herself as a Texan, despite all the reasons it should feel wrong, it felt so right to be held by him. Jill hadn't danced, hadn't been held in years, and the combination of the twangy romantic song and Tyler brought tears to her eyes.

One of his legs slid between hers, and he pressed the small of her back so that her pelvis curved into his. "Look at me," he told her, nuzzling her forehead.

She wanted to soak in his scent and vibrancy. She wanted to absorb his very essence. She wanted to touch his face and kiss him. She wanted to see his eyes. "I miss your eyes," she whispered. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

He immediately flipped the glasses up on his head, and the unadulterated wanting in his gaze rocked her world. "So you like my eyes?" he asked, and dipped his mouth to briefly brush her temple. She wondered how a normally chaste move could feel so sexual.

"Is there anything else you like about me?" he asked against her ear.

Jill shivered.
Too much,
she thought. She liked
too much
about him. His thighs brushed hers, and she felt his hardness against her, showing her in no uncertain terms how much he wanted her.

"Nothing?" he said with a rough chuckle. "Well, there's a lot I like about you. I like," he told her as he brushed a finger over her hair, "the way your hair feels against my skin. I'd like to feel it on more of my skin."

Her brain was a jumble. "Maybe it's the conditioner I use," she managed.

He shook his head. "I like the way your eyes hint at your secrets."

"They don't do that, do they?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, they say you want me."

Exasperated, Jill pulled his shades from his head and covered her own eyes with them.

He chuckled again. "I like your stubborn, snooty nose."

"That doesn't sound like a compliment."

"I like your mouth," he said, briefly brushing his mouth against hers. "I'd like to spend a lot of time on your mouth."

He rubbed his index finger down her throat to the opening of her blouse, dipping it just inside to the top of her breast. "I like the way your skin feels."

"When are you going to stop trying to seduce me?" she asked over the loud hammer of her heart.

"No time in the near future. Is it working?"

She wanted to say no, but the lie stuck in her throat. It was hard to deny, when she wished there were no clothes between them and she wished they weren't dancing with so many other people around. It was hard to deny, when she was beginning to feel such a sense of fate about him.

She felt a vibrating buzz from his hip to hers.

He swore and looked down at his pager. The vibration was his pager, she realized, and was so embarrassed she was glad she wore his glasses.

"It's the hospital. I'm on call, so I need to check in." He kissed her quickly and tugged her off the dance floor as he headed for a pay phone.

She wondered how he could switch gears so quickly from seductive arousal to doctor mode. Her head was still muddy from dancing with him. He pushed a couple of coins in a phone and dialed. She heard him echo something about a three-year-old and an automobile accident where the mother was dead on arrival. She felt as if she'd been plunged into ice water.

"Gotta go," he said, completely focused after he hung up. "I can run you home if we do it quickly. The kid's scared to death, and they're having problems with him. There's no next of kin. ER discovered a heart problem when they examined him. He'll probably need surgery after some tests."

She shook her head. "I don't want you to take the time," she said. "I'll get a ride from someone else at the hospital."

"Sorry," he said, his touch regretful as they moved toward the exit.

"This is important," she said, and asked because she had to know. "The mother died, didn't she?"

He narrowed his eyes and nodded. "Yep."

The situation wasn't identical, but as they drove the short distance to the hospital in tense silence, she wondered if he was thinking about his mother's death. She couldn't help remembering her own devastating accident.

Walking with him into the emergency room, she felt a sense of foreboding. Or was it fate? Even though she smelled it every day, tonight the hospital's antiseptic scent made her stomach clench. Tonight somebody's mommy had died. The hushed, worried voices of patients waiting to be treated took on an air of unreality.

She thought about the boy, the orphan, and how terrified he must be. She remembered her own terror. She thought of Tyler's terror at losing his mother so many years ago.

"Are you okay?" Tyler asked, bringing her back to the present. "You look pale."

"I'm okay," she said, wanting to be okay, willing herself to be okay.

"I can try to find you a ride," he began.

She shook her head. "I think I'll hang around here for a little while." She hesitated, then went with her instinct. "If the boy needs someone to hold his hand, let me know."

His eyes flickered in surprise, and he cocked his head to one side. "Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Okay. I'll let you know. Thanks for the dance."

"For stepping on your feet," she said.

"More field trips," he said, and quickly kissed her. "Later."

Jill went up to her office and made coffee and sketched out some press releases. She paced back and forth, turned on her sound machine and made doodles until Tyler called her.

"You know that offer you made earlier?" he asked. "Is it still good?"

"Yes," she said, her stomach a jumble of nerves.

"I have a buddy named Sam here, and I think he could use some female companionship."

She felt that same overwhelming mix of foreboding and fate, but didn't fight it. "I'll be right up."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes."

Jill didn't know why she felt so strongly about this situation and this child. She just knew she couldn't turn away from it or him. When she saw him, dark curly hair, huge, frightened dark eyes and wearing a cast on his right arm, sobbing uncontrollably in the social worker's arms, her heart broke.

Tyler walked to her side wearing a weary expression on his face. "We've been through three nurses and the social worker. If you've got any magic, we sure could use it."

She approached the toddler and held out her hands. "I'll take him."

Jill held him in a rocking chair, and Sam continued to cry for several minutes. She stroked his forehead and his eyes and told him he was going to be okay. His cries for his mother wrenched at her, but she continued to softly touch his face, the way she would have soothed her own child if she'd had the chance, the way she had soothed a grown man.

Sam's cries turned to hiccups, and he sighed.

"Would you like some juice?" she whispered.

He popped his forefinger in his mouth and stared at her, sniffing.

"Juice?" she asked again.

He nodded, and Tyler caught her eye, then called a nurse. The juice promptly appeared, and Sam sipped it noisily through a straw. Halfway through, he began to cry again.

Tyler lifted his head. "You want me to get someone else?"

"No," she said, determined to stay with him. Someone needed to. "I'd cry, too, if I were him. Could you bring me some books?"

He nodded.

She rocked Sam more and sang silly songs. He took breaks from his crying to stare at her. She read a book and he quieted, so she read a second one and a third, a fourth, and during the fifth book, prayer, exhaustion or a combination of the two won, and Sam fell asleep.

"Want me to put him to bed?"

She shook her head. "He'll be frightened when he wakes up."

"You can't stay here all night," he said.

She glanced up from the sleeping child. "Why not? It's Friday. I wouldn't have worked tomorrow, anyway."

"You don't have to do this, Jill," he said.

She gave a wry smile. Sometime during the past hours she'd faced another Waterloo, and this time she'd won. "I think I do."

His face lit with recognition, and he nodded slowly. "He needs surgery. His mother was an unwed teenager with no insurance. No next of kin, no nothing. I've asked the directors to use the first of the heart menders' posse money for Sam's medical expenses."

"Excellent use of the money," she said, resting her head on the back of her chair and closing her eyes. She felt Tyler's gaze on her.

"You're a brave woman," he said.

"I'm a wimp about some things," she admitted because it was late and she couldn't summon her tough-lady attitude at the moment.

"Not tonight," he said, his voice a caress.