The Good Doctor

The doorway from the garage led past the mudroom into a large living room. Violet noticed an expansive deck that seemed to go on forever outside of the living room’s sliding glass doors.

“Interesting place you’ve got here,” she remarked as they walked into the kitchen and stood peering into the great room with its cathedral ceiling and immense fan.

Sliding glass doors from that room also led out onto the deck, and Violet glimpsed a hot tub. The fireplace in the great room was fashioned of beautiful gray stone. A mission-style sofa and chair were grouped around it, their cushions woven with fabric striped in gray, tan and black. The living room had been equipped with an entertainment center, large TV and contemporary glass tables. In that room, the decor was an extension of the outdoors with earth tones and rustic textures. It still looked a bit empty.

“I really like the design of this house,” she said with admiration.

“It’s different,” Peter agreed. “And it suits me. I’m not here often enough to enjoy it, though. If I don’t soon put something on the walls, my sisters are threatening to do it for me.”

“You come from a large family?” Violet asked.

“Two biological sisters. My parents took in a lot of foster kids, and they feel like brothers and sisters, too.”

Peter’s gaze passed over Violet’s light blue, short-sleeved blouse and indigo jeans. She felt herself get very warm. She’d been tempted to wear something less casual but had told herself what she wore was simply not important.

“Would you like something to drink?” Peter asked.

Ryan shook his head. “I don’t want to tie you up too long.”

“All right. Violet, if you’re interested, help yourself to anything in the refrigerator.” He motioned to a hall that led to the other side of the house. “My study’s down this way. Let’s go in there.”

Then the men disappeared and Violet was left standing in the center of Peter Clark’s house all alone.

She couldn’t help snooping a bit. Well, not snooping, but absorbing Peter’s surroundings.

Her apartment was cluttered with mementoes from her childhood—presents her brothers and her parents had given her and selected items that simply carried memories. Now as she wandered toward a pine cabinet with glass doors, she peeked through the glass. There was a picture in a silver frame of a woman dressed in bell-bottomed slacks standing with a man who looked very much like Peter. Beside it stood three leather-bound books that were classics, a photograph of the same woman, older now, standing with five children. On another shelf, Violet spotted a duck decoy carved from wood and intricately painted, a Kachina and a wicker basket filled with seashells. There were several arrowheads and a picture of two young women. Peter’s sisters?

Glancing toward the study, she realized she was taking inventory to keep her mind off what was happening in there. Would Peter’s findings be different from hers?

A half hour later, Violet was staring out into Peter’s backyard unseeingly when Ryan and the neurosurgeon emerged from the study.

Ryan raked his hand through his hair. “He made me do all the same things you did and asked a heck of a lot of questions.”

“I think Ryan needs an MRI,” Peter advised calmly. “I’ll call a colleague of mine in Houston, where I did my residency, and see if he can set it up there.”

“But you’ll be my doctor?” Ryan asked hopefully.

“My speciality is children, Ryan, but let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. We’ll do the test and then go from there.”

“You’re right. That sounds reasonable.” He looked from Peter to Violet. “I know you two probably want to talk about me. I’ll just go on outside and take a look around.”

As if knowing neither of them would argue with him, he unlatched the sliding glass doors and stepped outside.

After Ryan had closed the door and walked farther out onto the deck, Violet asked, “Do you think his condition is serious?”

“At this stage, there’s no way of knowing. The MRI will tell us what comes next.”

“Is there any reason why Ryan shouldn’t drive? I convinced him to let me bring him tonight, but he’s not the type of man who likes to be chauffeured.”

“I asked him about blackouts and he said he hasn’t had any. He insists he hasn’t been dizzy, either. So until something other than the headaches develop, I can’t tell him he shouldn’t drive.”

When Violet thought about the possibilities of what could be wrong with Ryan, she felt her chin quiver. Suddenly the idea of losing Ryan was much too real.

Coming closer, Peter studied her for a long moment. “What?”

Feeling embarrassed, she shook her head. “He’s…he’s more than a patient to me.”

A tear escaped the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek, and she quickly swiped at it.

Reaching out, Peter clasped her shoulder. “Don’t borrow trouble.”

“I can’t help but worry. It hasn’t been that long since he and Lily found each other again. They’re so happy.”

“Yes, they are. But whether this is stress or something more serious, I know she’ll support him just as you will…just as I will.”

Peter’s hand on her shoulder was comforting. It was as if she could feel his strength seeping into her. “You’d never know I deal with life and death and grim diagnoses all the time.”

“Grim diagnoses?”

“There just seems to have been a lot of them lately. Before I left New York there were two young women with MS, and a pregnant mother who died—”

She stopped abruptly, not knowing what she was doing. She didn’t unload. That simply wasn’t her nature. She handled what came her way without leaning on anyone.

“What else?” he asked, his green eyes kind.

“Nothing, really. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. All I’m doing is riding, catching up on medical journals and visiting with my brother Miles. You’d think I’d be as happy as the proverbial lark.”

“Anyone can get burned out.”

“Do you?” she asked.

With a wry smile and a half shrug, he answered, “Not yet.” Then he became more serious. “But it can sneak up on you.”

Gazing into Peter’s eyes, Violet couldn’t seem to look away. His hand was still resting comfortingly on her shoulder, but the comfort was becoming an awareness that easily could turn into something else.

Self-consciously, she motioned toward the deck. “I’d better tell Ryan I’m ready to go or he’ll think we’re keeping something from him.”

Dropping his hand to his side, Peter agreed. “Yes, he probably will. I’ll call you tomorrow as soon as I talk to my friend in Houston.”

“I’m staying in the pool house at the Flying Aces. It doesn’t have a phone, but I can give you my cell phone number.”

She took a card from her purse and handed it to him. “I’ve written the number on there.”

When he took the card from her, his fingers grazed hers.

Her gaze lifted to his strong profile.

She was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush and that had to stop. Going to the glass doors, she opened them. Ryan hadn’t told Lily where he was actually going tonight. In fact, he’d lied to her. He’d told her he was taking Violet to see a horse he was thinking about buying. On their drive home, she was going to convince him to tell his wife what was actually going on.

That way Violet wouldn’t think about Peter Clark. That way she could ignore all the sensations she’d always wanted to feel but had never felt before.

She didn’t need a man in her life. She did not.

Two

Violet drove up to the main house on the Double Crown Ranch the following morning, parking in front of a garden where sage plants and ornamental grasses grew. She was worried. By nature, she hated lying, even by omission. Yet she owed Ryan confidentiality and couldn’t tell Lily where the two of them had been last night. She wished Ryan would tell his wife about his symptoms and that Peter was going to have an MRI arranged.

Peter.

Shaking her head, as if that could rid her thoughts of the neurosurgeon, Violet walked through the arched entryway and opened the wrought-iron gate. A curved stone walkway led through the outer courtyard where native plants and rocks were arranged in a miniature arroyo. Flowering vines perfumed the area as she mounted the steps that led to a wide wooden door in the covered entryway.

At her knock, Rosita Perez opened the door. Pleasantly plump, dressed in a peasant blouse and a long gauzy skirt, she patted her bun as if to make certain it was still there, then smiled.

“You’re right on time. Lanie Meyers isn’t here yet. Traffic from Austin could be keeping her. But Mr. Ryan and Lily are waiting in the inner courtyard. Come on and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

This brunch had been planned since last week. Next month the governor would be honoring Ryan with his presence at Steven’s new ranch. The gala was already being organized. The governor’s daughter, Lanie, acting as an emissary for her father, would be coming to brunch to tell Ryan and Lily how glad she was that Ryan was being honored with the Hensley-Robinson Award. It was a preliminary meeting to fill in the Fortunes on some of the arrangements, and Lily had invited Violet to join them.

The foyer of Ryan’s ranch house opened up into a great room with a high, beamed ceiling.

As Rosita showed her through the room, Violet asked, “How’s Savannah?” Savannah was married to Cruz Perez, Rosita’s son. The couple had a five-year-old and were expecting another child soon.

Rosita smiled. “She’s doing well now after that premature labor scare. She just has to take it easy, and Cruz is making sure she does that. I help out with Luke whenever I can.”

“Tell her I hope to see her soon and that I wish her and Cruz well.”

Giving Violet’s hand a little squeeze, Rosita nodded, then opened one of the wood-framed glass doors that led into the inner courtyard. Violet loved the area where a fountain bubbled and an old-fashioned swing stood under a vine-covered arbor. Descending the few steps, she headed toward one of the glass-topped tables.

Right away she could feel the tension. Whatever Ryan and Lily had been discussing had put a frown on Lily’s face. Had he told his wife he was at Peter Clark’s last night?

However, Violet soon knew that wasn’t the case because Ryan gave her a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Spotting Violet, Lily quickly replaced her frown with a smile. At fifty-nine, she was still beautiful. Her Apache and Spanish heritage had given her high cheekbones and large dark eyes framed by thick lashes. She had a wonderful figure and wore her hair in a shiny bob a little longer than Violet’s own hair. She was wearing white slacks today with a colorful striped sweater.

“I’m so glad you could join us this morning.” She gave Violet a hug, which Violet affectionately returned. Always comfortable with Lily, she could usually talk to her easily. That was why it would be so hard to hide anything from her.

Ryan gave Violet a hug, too, as Lily asked, “So how did you like that horse Ryan took you to see last night? He tells me it’s a Morgan, brown with a white blaze.”

Violet’s thoughts seemed jumbled as she tried to come up with an appropriate response. Fortunately, just then, the chime of the doorbell could be heard in the courtyard.

As Rosita hurried away, Lily poured a cup of coffee for Violet from a silver serving set. “That should be the governor’s daughter.” Forgetting the horse her husband had mentioned, Lily motioned to the coffee. “You take it black with sugar, right?”

“Sure do. Coffee in the lounge at the hospital is usually strong and stale. The sugar helps. I’ve gotten used to it that way.”

Lily motioned Violet to a seat and placed the cup of coffee there. “We are definitely creatures of habit, maybe too much so.” Her gaze shot to Ryan.

His mouth tightened and some unspoken message seemed to pass between them.

Hearing footsteps, Violet turned and saw Lanie Myers coming down the steps. She was a beauty and, from what Lily had told her, often in the society pages with her blond hair, blue eyes and voluptuous figure. She had a reputation for being a bit wild, at least that was what the gossip columnists said.

After greetings all around, Lanie joined them at the table.

Ryan asked good naturedly, “How’s your father’s reelection campaign going?”

“It’s going,” she observed in a wry tone that made everyone laugh. “Well, it is,” she added with a little shrug. “I don’t know how he does it, shaking all those hands, trying to please so many people. I just got back from a shopping trip in L.A., so I escaped the fray for a while.”

When Violet gave the former debutante an appraisal, she noted Lanie’s cream halter dress shouted designer label all the way. “Do you ever fly to New York to shop?”

Lanie took a few sips of the orange juice Rosita had placed before her. “I love New York—not only the shopping, but the shows. I try to get there a few times a year. Lily told me you live there. It must be wonderful to have access to the theater district, the symphony and ballet all the time.”

“It is, and I should take advantage of it more. But I don’t.”

“Violet’s a neurologist,” Lily interjected. “When she’s not tied up with patients, she’s writing articles. She also sits on the board for a battered women’s shelter.”

“You have a terrifically serious life,” Lanie mused. “No wonder you don’t have much time for the theater.”

“Violet’s mother, Lacey, has been fighting for worthwhile causes since she was a young woman,” Lily explained. “That couldn’t help but rub off on Violet.”

Lily was right about that, Violet thought. Her mother was still fighting for causes she believed in. When she was growing up, Violet had mistakenly believed that her mom’s causes were more important than her family. But she’d been wrong about that. It had taken a crisis to prove to her that both of her parents as well as her brothers valued her more than anything else in their lives. Her experience at fifteen might have made her reticent to become involved in intimate relationships, but it had also made her realize she truly wasn’t alone.

Deflecting conversation from her life, Violet said, “We’re so excited Ryan’s getting the Hensley-Robinson Award. My brother can’t wait to host the party.”

“He recently married, didn’t he? My mother mentioned that.”

“Yes, a few days ago.”

Although Ryan had been fairly quiet up until this point, now he added, “Violet has another brother who got married the same day. When will Jessica and Clyde be back from their honeymoon?”

“Next week some time. The woman my brother Clyde married was a friend of mine. I can’t wait until she gets back so we can really visit.”

“After the experience she had, she and Clyde deserve a long honeymoon.” Lily went on to explain to Lanie how Jessica had been stalked and how Clyde had apprehended the man.

As Rosita served brunch, the conversation flowed easily. Lanie filled them in on details of the gala her father would be attending and the security measures that would be taken.

They’d finished the fruit tart and were enjoying more coffee when Rosita appeared in the courtyard again and stood beside Ryan. “Chuck called from the barn. He said that horse you’re going to gentle just rolled in.”

Ryan looked torn as if he wanted to go down to the barn, yet knew he should stay because of Lanie.

Obviously sensing his predicament, she smiled. “Mr. Fortune, if you need to leave, that’s fine. I have to be going myself. I have an appointment back in Austin this afternoon.”

As she rose, so did Ryan. “Are you sure you have to leave so soon? My foreman can unload the horse.”

“Really, I must be going,” Lanie said. “It was nice to meet you, Violet.”

After goodbyes all around, Ryan said, “I’ll walk you out.” Then he gave Lily a quick kiss and escorted the governor’s daughter through the great room. After Rosita cleared the table except for the coffee, she took the tray of dishes to the kitchen.

Lily gave Violet a weak smile that told Violet brunch had been an effort. “That young woman doesn’t seem to have a path to her life,” Lily commented.

“Maybe some women don’t need one.”

“I found my path when I married Ryan.” That troubled look came over Lily’s face again. “But I wouldn’t change one curve or twist in the path. Sometimes I wonder if Ryan would, though.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m worried about him. He had a call from the police again this morning. They want him to come in for more questions. I wish they’d understand he didn’t even know Christopher Jamison. Why can’t they see he’d never hurt anyone?”

That was the question of a loyal wife, but Violet knew the authorities had their own agenda. The link between the Fortunes and Jamisons hadn’t been made public, but there was one. She just hoped that the authorities would soon find the murderer of Christopher Jamison and that Ryan would be cleared.

“The two of you usually draw together when there’s a crisis,” Violet reminded Lily.

“Up until now. But Ryan’s so unpredictable sometimes. For the past few months he leaves and doesn’t tell me where he’s going. I’m beginning to wonder—”

Her voice caught and Violet could see tears well up in Lily’s eyes. One thing she was sure of—Ryan Fortune adored his wife and would never be unfaithful to her.

“Maybe he doesn’t tell you because he doesn’t know where he’s going to go. Maybe he just needs time alone to decompress. Have you talked to him about it?”

“Yes, but he just gives me flimsy excuses.”

“Maybe they seem flimsy because he’s not hiding anything.”

“I hope that’s true,” Lily said fervently.

Since Ryan was hiding his symptoms from his wife, that was why Lily suspected he wasn’t being truthful. Maybe soon that would change. After the MRI, she hoped Ryan would tell Lily about his headaches and they could get their marriage back on a strong footing again. They might need to for whatever came next.

When Jason Jamison opened the door to his “mansion,” he considered why he’d bought it when he moved to San Antonio. It was befitting the station in life he intended to rise to. The second reason, just as important, was that Melissa had liked it. She might have been a cocktail waitress, but she had damn good taste.

Noticing the security alarm was off, he realized she must be at home. It was early for him to get home, not even six-thirty. He made a point of working late at Fortune TX, Ltd. so he looked like a go-getter, so he caught Ryan Fortune’s attention, so he could put everything into the plan that was coming to fruition.

When he heard the upstairs shower running, he dropped his briefcase in the marble-floored foyer and hurried up the wide sweeping staircase. His footsteps were muffled by the plush carpeting, and he liked the idea of surprising Melissa. He didn’t like surprises but he liked taking others off guard. He especially looked forward to surprising Ryan Fortune.

He was working on a plan to bring down Ryan and get the revenge his grandfather had always wanted. His grandpa Farley was the only one who had understood him and paid attention to him. During his visits to Farley Jamison’s cabin, Jason had been a rapt listener when his grandfather related tales of Iowan politics. Farley’s own children and wife had abandoned him. Although they were connected by blood, Kingston Fortune hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, either. Someone had to carry on his grandfather’s legacy. Farley had always believed it was because of the Fortunes that he was living his life in a beat-up shack, and he’d convinced Jason to believe it, too.

But Jason had to figure the best way to get what he wanted. With a new face, he was unrecognizable to relatives. Creating a different identity and going under the name of Jason Wilkes, he could accomplish anything.

As he walked down the hall, he took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. One of his teachers in high school had called him a sociopath. If stabbing a friend and lying to get what he wanted made him that, he didn’t mind the label. His conscience didn’t bother him one whit that he’d killed Christopher. They’d always been like Cain and Abel, the angel and the devil. So much for angels, he thought, as he remembered dumping his brother’s body into Lake Mondo.

After he stepped into the luxuriously furnished bedroom, Jason tossed his tie and suitcoat over a fuchsia chair, hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt and threw that to the pile, too. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Melissa. He couldn’t wait to feel her hands on him. She knew how to do things—

Flipping off his Italian loafers, ridding himself of his socks, he unbuckled his belt as he went through the dressing room into the bathroom. There was a sunken tub, but his gaze went straight to the shower where he could see the shadow of Melissa’s body behind the frosted glass door.

Before he could open it, she turned off the water and stepped out.

“Jason!” she yelped.

“That’s me,” he said with a smile that was supposed to convey his intentions.

It must have done just that because she shook her head, her bleached blond hair falling in wet tendrils across her shoulders. She hadn’t dried off and she looked sleek and more than ready for what he had in mind.

However, she nipped his desire before he could act on it. “I can’t. Not now. I’m already running late. I have a meeting at seven-thirty.”

“What meeting?” he demanded to know.

“A group of us is getting together to plan a clothing drive for the teen shelter at Christmas.”

“All this charity work you’re doing is getting tedious, and I’m beginning to wonder why you’re doing it.”

Still dripping wet, Melissa came very close to Jason. “Aren’t we pretending to be an up-and-coming married couple?”

“Yes, but—”

She put a slim finger on his chin and studied him with her brown eyes. “No buts. Just as you’re setting up Ryan to take the fall for mistakes in his company, I’m planting a few seeds of my own.”

“And they are?”

“You’ll see.” With the same finger that had played on his chin, she traced his right cheekbone. “How is your project coming?”

“It’s moving along. Fortune TX, Ltd. is spending money on a phony oil deal and Ryan’s fingerprints are going to be all over it.”

“Do you really think they’ll kick Ryan off the board of directors?”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

Gazing into Melissa’s eyes, Jason saw a flicker of something. What was it? Was she planning something on her own? How would that affect him?

Melissa never let him get too close or see too far inside. Now her hand settled on his chest then slipped lower, over his navel and inside the waistband of his trousers. “Maybe I do have ten minutes,” she murmured with a wide-eyed, sultry look that aroused him to a painful level.

Taking the foreplay out of her hands, he scooped her into his arms. She was wet and wild and hot.

“Ten minutes,” she warned him as he carried her into the bedroom.

He dropped her on the bed, let his trousers fall, pushed down his briefs and stretched out on top of her.

“It’ll take what it’s going to take, and your meeting be damned.”

When he saw the look of triumph in her eyes, he knew this was what she’d wanted all along. As she opened her legs to him and kissed him like there was no tomorrow, he had to wonder who really had the power here.

He was going to get it back…one way or another.

It was almost 4:00 p.m. on Tuesday when Peter finally got the chance to call Violet Fortune. Still in his scrubs, he used the phone in the doctor’s lounge. As her cell phone rang, he didn’t have to use many memory cells to conjure up her face. He’d been thinking about her too damn much since she’d left last night, and he didn’t like the invasion into his usually ordered thoughts.

There were several reasons why she should be off-limits for him. Number one—he no longer dated women whose career demands consumed their lives. He’d gone that route once before, and once in a lifetime down that particular road was enough. Number two—not only did Violet Fortune have a demanding career, but the career was in New York. In a few weeks, she’d return to New York City and pick up her life where she’d left it. Long-distance relationships didn’t work. His life, family and future were here in Red Rock. Number three—Violet Fortune rocked his world a little too much. He liked to be in control. Last night, being around her had thrown him off balance. It was an odd feeling that hadn’t happened to him before, not even with his ex-fiancée Sandra.