Cowboy M.D.

“I thought you needed to go someplace,” she said. It would have made things a whole lot easier if he’d put on weight or lost his hair. She didn’t like this awareness she felt while sitting next to him.

“I do—did. I’ll be late.”

He started up his truck, the onslaught of noise from the big diesel making it impossible to think for a second. “You were going to a friend’s house while dragging this big old horse trailer behind you?”

“Do it all the time.” He put his truck in gear. She hadn’t even known big trucks came with stick shift.

“No wonder your horse wanted out so bad.”

He shot her a look. “This from a woman who drags her cat across the country.”

As if agreeing, Mr. Clean let out another howl. “I was afraid to leave him at home. He’s delicate.” Like I once was.

“Does my mom know it’s bald?”

“He’s a hairless, and it didn’t come up in conversation. Why do you ask?”

“Because I worry about it frightening the other guests.”

She opened her mouth to defend her cat’s looks, only to realize that he was—miracles upon miracles—joking. She could tell by the way the side of his mouth twitched up a bit—just once—but she spotted it, and when he looked over at her, the twinkle in his green eyes confirmed the fact.

“You got to admit, that is one ugly cat.”

Ali glanced to the back seat, and though Mr. Clean was all she had in the world, she knew that he was, well, ugly.

“When I first saw him I thought he looked a lot like something from Sesame Street.”

This time he let himself smile openly.

What an improvement. Until that moment she’d managed to put from her mind what he’d looked like with just his Jockey—

“…adopt him?”

He raised a brow in question. He’d asked her something. She searched that fuzzy part of her brain that had heard what he’d said but not really registered it. Something about her cat…

“Everyone was making fun of him,” she said quickly.

He made a slow right-hand turn, his truck picking up speed as he headed toward the Diamond W Ranch. “I’d gone to the pet store to get myself a fish, for my desk at work. But I took him instead.”

His smile faded. She jerked her gaze forward, feeling strange things that made her distinctly uncomfortable, given that she was supposed to be in Los Molinas to recruit him. Granted, she was being underhanded in her recruitment tactics, but she was nothing if not determined.

“Look,” he said, and Ali realized they’d arrived at a sort of truce. “I’m not sure if you’re nuts or what. But I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention my going to work for your hospital while you’re staying at my mom’s.”

“Why not?”

“My dad just died and I don’t want her thinking I’m leaving her to deal with the ranch alone.”

Funny, his mom hadn’t mentioned anything about that—not that it was something you’d admit to a guest.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not easy to lose a parent.”

“No, it’s not.”

She didn’t know what else to say and so she said nothing for about a mile, but she needed to clarify something.

“Dr. Sheppard—”

“Nick,” he corrected her.

Nick. She liked that so much better than Nicholas. It suited him, too.

“Nick,” she said. “I know you don’t want me around, but I am here on vacation. When I heard your family owned a dude ranch, I thought to myself how much fun that would be. I’ve always loved horses. And so while I don’t blame you for being upset with me, I’m really here for a vacation.” Not precisely, but he didn’t need to know that.

Around them green hills rose and fell like a poorly laid green carpet. It was beautiful country and, yeah, she wasn’t being exactly honest with him, but she was looking forward to visiting his family’s ranch—and if she could convince him to come work for her, so much the better.

“Well,” he said, “as long as we understand each other.”

“We do,” she said, crossing her fingers.

Chapter Three

“Oh, wow,” Ali said as she caught sight of the Diamond W Ranch.

Nick remained silent, something he’d been from the moment they’d called their truce.

“It’s beautiful,” she added.

“Yup.”

Yup. Obviously the man wasn’t fond of conversation.

There wasn’t a whole lot she could do about his dislike of her. He’d realize she wasn’t the enemy in a few days. And if he didn’t, oh, well. She’d enjoy herself on vacation. Darn it, it’d been too many years since she’d had a good time.

She studied the home at the end of the long, gravel drive, which was horseshoe-shaped with a patch of golf-course-green lawn in the middle of the U.

A mansion.

That was the only way to describe it.

Ali knew from the dude ranch’s Web site that Nick’s great-great-something-or-other had sold everything he’d owned to come out West. Building his wife a mansion had been part of the deal. And so the Diamond W Ranch looked more like it belonged in the South. Four stories tall, the main house had three white columns and a wide, ante-bellum-type porch. Green shutters framed the window like peek-a-boo hands and there was a double door with etched glass sparkling in the afternoon light. Acres and acres of oak trees and some sort of scrub sprouting tiny white flowers surrounded the place.

“Does Colonel Sanders live here?”

When he didn’t crack a smile, she sighed.

What was it about men that she always rubbed them the wrong way? Was she too aggressive? Was that it?

They pulled up in front, Ali oddly at peace as she studied the home.

“My mom’s probably getting dinner ready for the guests,” Nick said. “You might as well go on around to the back where the kitchens are.”

“What if she mistakes me for a servant?”

He looked at her blankly.

“You know. Like in the movies.”

The man had a way of making her feel as if she had antennae sprouting from her head.

“What movies do you watch?”

“The romantic type.”

“Uh-huh.”

And the way he said it…uh-huh. What? Didn’t the man ever go on dates?

He opened his truck door.

Apparently not.

Her hopes of hiring him faded with each passing second. And it wasn’t so much that she didn’t think he’d take the job, it was more that she was beginning to wonder if he was the right person for the job. He has a nice smile. Well, yeah…if he ever used it.

The California sun had started to set, but it was still high enough in the sky that she felt it beat down on her head when she got out of the truck. Bits of white pollen floated on currents of air, and Ali wondered if they came from the scrub trees. And the smell. She tipped her head back and simply inhaled. It smelled like an Old West movie. Okay, like she imagined an Old West movie would smell. Like hay and dust and just the faintest hint of livestock.

“Leave your cat here,” he said when she started to reach behind the seat to grab Mr. Clean. “You can get him after checking in with my mom.”

“Got it.”

He crammed his hat on his head as he came around her side of the big truck, and Ali had an out-of-body experience. One that had her blushing in mortification at the image of him scooping her up in his arms, mounting his horse and riding off into the sunset.

Time to get a life. She watched as he turned away, led her up the front steps, his spurs ching-ching-chinging on the well-worn steps, then turned left and followed the porch around. The man had shoulders so wide he looked like a walking suit of armor. Muscular legs supported the cutest butt she’d ever seen—

Ali!

Well, she could look, right? She was on vacation. Va-ca-tion, and since Dr. Doom and Gloom looked to be a dead end, she may as well get into the swing of things. And, no, she didn’t go in for flings, but she enjoyed a very active fantasy life. She had a feeling she’d be dreaming of cowboys tonight.

They passed a set of French doors, and then another set, the porch nearly as wide as a car. And then she caught a whiff of something, something that smelled like mouth-watering food. Butter, chives and…fried chicken.

“Oh, man.”

“What?” Nick asked as he stopped in front of an old-fashioned half door, the top portion swung open.

“That smells so good.”

He pulled open the bottom half of the door and said, “Mom, the woman you want me to marry is here.”

IF NICK HAD BEEN in a better mood he would have laughed at the expression on Alison Forester’s face.

“Nick,” his mother said, either ignoring him or not having heard him. “What are you doing here?”

“Mom, you wanted me to meet her, didn’t you? I know for sure there’s a waiting list to stay here. Ms. Forester seems to have magically risen to the top.”

It was funny, really, because everyone in the kitchen pointedly avoided looking their way, and there were a lot of people in the kitchen. But they were probably used to this conversation, or various forms of it. If she wasn’t harping on him about going back to a “real job,” his mom was trying to get him married off. Nick wished she’d make up her mind which she wanted most…not that he was going along with either of her plans. Not now. Not ever.

“Why, Nicholas Sheppard,” his mom said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And to make matters worse, she shot Alison a glance meant to convince her of her innocence. “I’m Martha Sheppard,” she said, holding out her hand.

About as innocent as a barn cat stalking a mouse. Oh, yeah, Nick could see the way her eyes looked Alison over, as the two shook hands. She clearly approved of what she saw.

Wide hips. Check.

Ample breasts. Check.

Nice teeth. Check.

Nick decided to nip this right in the bud.

“She’s already seeing someone.”

“Actually, I’m not,” Allison said. “And I’m sorry your son doesn’t want to marry me.” She shot him a teasing look. “But it’s actually a relief. I’ve never married a man I’ve never kissed before.”

“I guess this means we’ll have to cancel the wedding,” his mom said, wiping her hands on her apron, which read, Old Women Make Better Lovers. A present from her best friend, Flora.

“I guess so,” Alison said. “Though I was really looking forward to tasting your pâté. Say, could I have a bite of whatever’s cooking in the oven instead?”

His mom laughed, and Nick went still. He loved his mom’s laughter, had missed the sound since…

The chasm left by his father’s death once again overwhelmed him. They were all still suffering.

Alison extended her arm toward his mother.

And that was when he saw it. The telltale redness just beneath Alison Forester’s cuffs. Burn marks.

What?

“Good to meet you, Alison, though I’m sorry to have to cancel your wedding.”

“That’s okay,” Alison said, returning his mom’s clasp. “I look like hell in white.”

That made his mom laugh again. But Nick had eyes only for Alison’s left arm. Burn marks. He scanned the rest of her. There was another patch just at the nape of her neck, one that disappeared beneath her shirt.

“Nick,” his mom said, drawing his eyes back. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Ms. Forester was coming. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Someone canceled and when I called the other people on the list, none of them could come. Ms. Forester’s timing was perfect. Not that I don’t think she’d make a lovely bride.”

And with that, she turned back to Alison. “Come here, sweetie. I’ll give you a taste of my famous honey-pecan-fried chicken.”

Nick watched her follow his mother. The knowledge that at some point she’d been a burn victim, a bad burn by the looks of it, completely skewed his perception of her.

“Good?” his mother asked after handing her a forkful of chicken. He watched as she took a bite, her eyes closing as she chewed and swallowed. “Mmm,” she said, and God help him, he couldn’t take his gaze away from the sugary sheen on her lips.

Obviously he’d spent too much time out in the sun.

“Do you have any other sons I might be able to marry?” Alison asked. “I hate the thought of never tasting this again.”

“As a matter of fact, I do—”

“Mom,” Nick interrupted. His eyes darted to Alison’s cuff again. She must have seen him because she self-consciously touched her wrist, confirming that she’d figured out what he’d been looking at.

“Don’t encourage her,” he said with a smile, suddenly feeling bad.

“I’ll try not to,” she answered in her Southern drawl.

“I’ll go get your stuff.” Crap. He really wished she wasn’t sticking around. She reminded him of…things he’d rather forget.

Such as his job.

“I’ll come with you,” Alison said.

“You staying for dinner?” his mom asked Nick.

“I’m having dinner with the Berringers tonight.”

“I thought you looked mighty dressed up for rodeo practice.”

“I changed at the arena.”

“Yeah, right out in the open,” Alison said.

She had a nice smile.

His mom waved a hand dismissively. “They all do that,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “If you ever want a show, go behind the chutes during a rodeo. I swear those boys have no sense of decency.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Alison said.

“And since you’re here, why don’t you have dinner with us? The Berringers will understand,” his mom added.

“Mom, you know I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can.”

“Scott wants to talk to me about purchasing some of our cattle.”

“You can do that over the phone.”

“Mom,” Nick said sternly, “it’s too late to cancel.”

“Nonsense. Tell them you got hung up bringing a guest to the ranch. It’s true, and if you stay, you’ll even up my numbers.”

“Mom—”

“Nick Sheppard, I don’t get to see you often enough as it is what with you off to rodeos all the time. I’ll call and explain the situation.”

“No, don’t do that,” Nick said, beginning to realize he fought a losing battle.

“Good, then you call.”

“What’s the matter?” Alison asked in an aside. “Worried I’ll bite?”

Was that a flirtatious look in her eyes? Or was he just imagining that?

Imagining it, he decided when she couldn’t look him in the eyes.

And why did he feel warm?

He squared his shoulders as he asked, “Where’s she sleeping?”

“In one of the bunkhouses.”

He knew he wouldn’t like the answer to his next question, but he had to ask. “Which one?”

“Number two.”

Yup. Exactly as he’d thought.

“You must have had to do some shuffling around to arrange that,” he said.

To give his mom credit, she managed another innocent look. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind,” he said, knowing she would just deny it. “C’mon,” he said to Alison. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“Ride?”

“The bunkhouses are down by the lake. Your only neighbor will be oak trees…and me.”

“You?”

“I’m in bunkhouse number one.”

“Oh.” And then she smiled brightly. “Well, I guess that makes planning for our wedding a bit easier.”

His mom laughed. There was no way—no way—Alison Forester’s name had cycled to the top of the waiting list, which meant his mom was up to her old matchmaking tricks again. And with a woman she’d never even seen before. Geesh.

Well, she’d learn real fast that he had no interest in Alison Forester. No interest at all.

Chapter Four

Mr. Clean was not a happy camper. Ali didn’t blame him. Airplane rides were not, as a rule, part of kitty’s everyday routine. And then there was the smell of the Diamond W Ranch. Ali had a feeling Mr. Clean’s naked-cat instincts were at high alert. As she followed Nick down a path alongside the main house, she wanted to stop and breathe in the scent of the place again.

It smelled like home.

Not Texas, but home-home. The place where she’d grown up…before.

Her eyes snapped open. Good thing, too, because Nick had stopped, her rolling suitcase propped up against the side of a…golf cart? No. It was some kind of golf cart–motorcycle hybrid with a trucklike roof over the passenger compartment and a small bed in the back.

“That’s the strangest-looking thing I’ve ever seen.” She tipped her chin toward the bright green vehicle.

“Yeah? I feel the same way about your cat,” Nick said, slinging her suitcase into the “bed.”

And it was exactly comments like that that made Ali wonder why she’d flown all the way out to California to try to hire him. Obviously the man’s bedside manner left a lot to be desired.

“I take it this isn’t a cowboy’s version of a golf cart?” Ali asked, hoping conversation might open him up.

“Actually, I think it is,” he said, not looking at her as he sat next to her. And there it was again, that frisson of awareness she’d first felt when she’d climbed into his truck back at the rodeo grounds.

Do you blame yourself?

The man was drop-dead gorgeous in his cowboy hat and boots, not at all like the pudgy, mutant-white doctors she was used to.

He started the engine, which sounded more like an ATV. Ali heard Mr. Clean meow in the back. At this rate she’d have to hire a cat therapist. And then she was straightening in surprise. “Oh, man,” she said as she caught a glimpse of what was on the other side of the trees.

A lake.

A sparkling, catching-the-last-rays-of-sunlight lake.

Nick guided the miniature truck along the asphalt path.

“I didn’t see a lake from the house.”

“Can’t,” he said. “Trees are too thick. Just like you can’t see the barn and arena, either.” And then Nick stopped, Ali assumed so she could get the full effect and so she followed his gaze.

Wow.

This time of day, the top of the water turned the color of white Zinfandel. Cabins, if you wanted to call them that, rimmed the lake. Actually, she’d known from the pictures on the Internet that they resembled tiny, brownstones—narrow porches in the front with three steps leading to the front door. What she hadn’t expected was the seamless way they blended into the trees behind them, giving the illusion that the lakeshore stood empty.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is that.”

“It must have been neat growing up here.”

“It was,” he said, shifting the Gator into gear again.

“Wait,” she said, touching the top of his hand. It was such a man’s hand, from the tiny, dark hairs on top to the thick, square fingers. Odd that that hand was capable of performing such delicate surgery.

“What?” he asked.

“Look, I know you think I’m stalking you or something, but….” She struggled for words—unusual for her. A fish broke the surface of the lake, water ripples spreading toward the shore. “I felt your family’s ranch call to me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around horses.”

“You said you know how to ride, in the car.”

She met his gaze, blinking to dispel the brightness of the lake’s surface. “Yeah. I practically grew up on a horse’s back.”

That made his brows lift. It was a shame he seemed so uptight. She had a feeling if he’d just relax his gorgeous good looks would surpass those of her favorite movie stars.

“I had a horse until I was fifteen,” she admitted, looking away. “Some of the best moments of my life were spent on a horse.”

“Why’d you stop riding then?”

Her stomach flexed. “Things happen.” And that was all she’d say about it. “Anyway, I’ve never forgotten how wonderful it is to be on a horse’s back. The sense of freedom. The camaraderie of being on an animal that trusts you and will do anything for you, as long as you treat it right.” She peeked over at him. “I sound like a Hallmark commercial, don’t I?”

And there it was again, that tiny spark that made her think he might laugh if he were any other man.

“Actually, I know exactly how you feel.”

“Do you? Good. I really don’t want you to think I chased you here. And for the record, I don’t think your mom’s trying to hook us up.”

“You don’t know my mother.”

“Yes, that’s true. But she’s never even met me. Why would she pair you up with a stranger?”

“Because that’s what she does,” Nick said with a shake of his head. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re here and I hope you have a good time.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I promise to be a good guest. You won’t even know I’m here.”

YOU WON’T even know I’m here.

Ha. No such luck.

The sexy sound of her soft laughter was clearly audible over the dinner conversation. He’d been hoping she’d skip dinner in favor of a jet-lagged nap. The moment he slid open the dining room’s double doors, he’d spotted her, blond hair loose around her shoulders, a wide smile on her face.

“Nick. There you are,” his mother said from her usual spot at the head of the table. About twelve people sat around her, mostly adults, although two dark-haired kids sat at the end. Nick nodded to the guests he’d been introduced to already. There were a few new faces, but then, it was always like that. The guests came and went, some of them eating with the family, others content to do their own cooking in their cabins.

“Nick, there’s an empty seat next to Ali,” his mom added.

“Why am I not surprised?” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” his mother asked.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, taking a seat next to Ali.

She looked different.

Well, he supposed most people looked different when they weren’t dressed in a buttoned-down business suit. The white cotton blouse and blue jeans suited her.

“Good evening, Doctor,” she said softly, her eyes more blue than gray this evening.

“Doctor?” one of the guests asked, a balding man with a bright red scalp. Obviously he’d forgotten to apply his sunscreen today. “You’re a doctor?”

Yeah, want a prescription for some sunscreen?

“Graduated at the top of his class from Harvard Medical School,” his mother answered.

“Harvard?” the man asked in obvious surprise. “You went to Harvard?”

He said the words like, “You went to the moon?”

“He was offered a Rhodes Scholarship,” Ms. Forester provided.

“Really?”

“But he turned it down,” she said, “so he could graduate from Harvard.”

And from the end of the table, his mother looked at Alison as though she’d offered her ovaries to him on a platter. Nick almost groaned.

“Nick has an IQ of 162,” his mother said to the crowd at large, but to one individual in particular—as if Alison didn’t already know that. He would bet the woman knew his shoe size.

“He was in the top one percent when he took his Medical College Admission Test.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” he said, noticing that the table had gone quiet, most of his mother’s guests looking at him in either surprise or approval, though a young girl and boy at the opposite end of the table exchanged disinterested glances. “The guests don’t care about me, Mom. I want to know how everyone’s day was today?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Alison said before anybody had a chance to reply. “As your future wife, I’d like to find out whatever I can about you.”

“You’re engaged?” an elderly lady asked, her eyes lighting up as if she were the mother of the bride-to-be. “How wonderful.”

“Actually,” Alison said, “we just met today.”

“You…what?” the woman asked, befuddled.

“But Nick here is convinced his mom only invited me to the ranch so she could set us up. Frankly, I’m not so sure.”

Okay, that did it—

“She sounded nice on the phone,” his mother said to her guests, smiling around the table.

“Mother,” Nick rasped.

“Well…she did.”

Alison laughed, which started his mother laughing, too. That was the third time today he’d heard his mother laugh, which made it the most she’d laughed in months.

“Hey,” Alison said, leaning in to him. “If your mom’s set on marrying us off, do you think I could have a peek at your mouth? My family has a long history of perfect teeth and I hate to mess up the gene pool.”