Heart Of Texas

Still, she wasn’t the type of woman he had ever been attracted to. So why the sudden fixation with her? he asked himself, but got no answer.

Feeling desperate to elevate his thoughts to the impersonal level, Clark blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “How much do I owe you?”

She stiffened visibly. “Nothing at the moment. I suggest you come for another treatment, but in my office.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You really think that’s necessary?”

“Absolutely.” She paused, giving him a cool, pointed look. “Unless you want your back to go out again.”

“You know better than that,” he muttered crossly. But he dreaded another session because her magic hands messed with his mind.

“Wise man.”

“Whatever the doctor says.”

Her professional facade didn’t slip one iota. “Since that’s settled, let’s get this heating pad behind you so it can get to work.”

She plugged it in near where he was sitting, then placed it behind his back. Although she had been close to him earlier, he’d been in too much pain to notice how fresh and sweet she smelled. Now her scent hit him in the face like a slap. He sucked in his breath and held it.

She stepped back and peered down at him. “Are you in pain again?”

“Uh, no,” he said, turning away, unable to meet her eyes, especially with his manhood rallying around his thoughts.

“Would you care for coffee or something else to drink?” Her tone was polite but emotionless.

“Uh, no, thanks.”

Sara sat in the chair adjacent to him, and for a moment an uneasy silence fell between them. It was one of the few times he had ever been at a loss for words. But then, he’d never been in quite such a precarious situation.

He tried to concentrate on her homey but tastefully decorated home while the heat seeped into his back, but he couldn’t. He was too conscious of her.

“Do you mind me asking what brings you back to River Oaks?”

“My ranch,” he said off the top of his head, then kicked himself mentally. Why the hell didn’t he tell her the truth?

She gave him a disapproving look, which raised his ire and his curiosity.

“I was hoping you’d come to see about your aunt.”

That flat statement tightened his gut, as well as the noose around his neck. “That, too, of course.”

“She’s a sweetheart, you know? I see her almost every day when I visit my mother, who’s also in the nursing home.”

“I appreciate that a lot.” Tell her, dammit. But the words still wouldn’t come. They stuck in his throat.

“She would appreciate seeing you a lot more.”

While her criticism was wrapped in soft words, he felt the sting nonetheless, a feeling he didn’t like. “Look, I’ve intruded enough on your time. It’s late, and I know you have to work tomorrow.”

“That I do.”

Blessedly, he got to his feet without mishap. “Thanks again for everything. I feel like a heel for—”

Sara held up her hand, stopping his flow of words. “Forget it. You’re not the first to appear on my doorstep at an ungodly hour, nor will you be the last.”

“At least you’re a good sport about it.”

She shrugged. “I consider that part of my job.”

He stared at her a long moment, trying to figure out what was really going on behind those lovely green eyes. Though she met his gaze, he learned nothing. The woman was one cool cookie who either had his number or didn’t didn’t give a damn. Maybe she disliked men in general, or just him in specific.

If the latter was the case, then he was in deep trouble. Somehow he had to figure out a way to do some damage control. But before he could say anything else, she had reached the door and had it open.

“Good night, Clark Garrison. It was nice seeing you again.”

He didn’t believe that for a second. “Same here, Dr. Wilson,” he said, walking out the door.

Once outside he cursed a blue streak.

Three

“You old son of a gun, how’ve you been?”

Clark slapped his foreman, Joe Hanover, on the arm while pumping his hand.

Joe gave him a wide grin that exposed the gaping hole in front where two permanent teeth should’ve been. The remaining teeth were nicotine coated, as Joe smoked like a chimney on the coldest of winter days.

Even so, his health was good, so good that to Clark’s knowledge he’d never missed a day’s work. But with Joe, looks could be deceiving.

Though short and wiry, his foreman was as tough as the cowhide he took care of on a daily basis. In addition, he could do most anything with his hands from plumbing to carpentry work.

Clark shuddered to think of what he would do without his foreman. If nothing else, Joe was invaluable because Clark was rarely able to get to the ranch. He depended sorely on Joe to keep things up and running.

“I’m tolerable,” Joe finally responded, following several deep drags on a cigarette before dropping, then crushing it with a scuff-toed boot. “I sure as hell wasn’t expecting you anytime soon.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be here, either. I stayed at Zelma’s place in town last night and thought I’d stop in this morning for a look around the ranch.”

Joe shoved the brim of his soiled hat back. “So, what’s up?”

“Business, actually.”

“Well, whatever, I’m shore glad to see you, ’cept you don’t look so good.”

“I had a bad night. The old back nailed me.”

“Man, that’s too bad.”

Clark’s mouth curved down. “Yeah, it is. And it’s something I’m going to have to learn to live with.”