Denise opened her mouth, then closed it. She felt herself blushing and hoped no one had heard him.
She stood. “I don’t think so. It was very nice to meet you, Art, but it’s time for me to go.”
He grabbed her hand. “You’ve been widowed ten years now. You’ve got to be hurting. I’m willing to help, offer what I can.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Frankly, the best idea seemed to be throwing his ice cubes with white wine in his lap. But that would cause a scene and she wasn’t that kind of woman. More’s the pity.
“Goodbye,” she said firmly, as she put her handbag over her shoulder.
She turned and marched purposefully toward the exit. The stone path was a little uneven and as she rounded the corner she nearly lost her balance. Before she began to fall, she felt someone take hold of her arm and steady her. For one horrifying moment, she thought that Art had followed her. That he was the kind of man who didn’t understand the word no.
She straightened and looked at the man who had rescued her.
Frying pan, meet fire, she thought, staring into a familiar pair of dark blue eyes.
She might not have seen Max Thurman in nearly forty years, having spent the past year avoiding running into him, but she sure recognized him. He had the same broad shoulders, the same muscled build. And, dammit all to hell, the man still looked like a god in jeans.
“Denise?”
Max stared at her. She thought he looked more pleased than surprised, but she wasn’t sure. Just as unsettling, her stomach went all fluttery, and she felt nervous, as she had when she’d first met him. She’d been seventeen and he’d been twenty. A man, while she’d still been on that cusp between girl and woman. The night of her eighteenth birthday he’d helped her cross over.
He grinned. “It is you. I’ve been hoping we would run—”
Into each other? Not likely. She’d done her best to make sure that never happened. She’d wanted to avoid any moment like this one.
“I have to go,” she said desperately, interrupting him.
She couldn’t talk to him now, not like this. Not after all this time. What if he saw Art and thought they were together? What if he said she looked old or…
Her mind was close to exploding with hideous scenarios. So much for the years adding serenity and grace.
Then she did the only thing she could think of. She ran.
SIMON STOOD IN FRONT of Montana’s door. He’d done his best to avoid her and instead had found himself missing everything about her. Being intelligent didn’t seem to play into his decision-making process. The need to see her overwhelmed everything else.
He raised his hand to knock, then heard a strange sound from inside. It was almost a cry, but one he couldn’t place. Was he interrupting something?
The thought of her with another man enraged him and he pounded his fist against the door. Who could she be with?
He waited while she called, “Just a minute.” Then the door opened.
Montana stood in front of him, wearing shorts, a cropped T-shirt and little else. Desire joined fury as he pushed past her and entered her living room.
“Where is he?”
He glanced around, expecting to see wine and candles. Instead the drapes were open, along with the windows. There was no evidence of a romantic evening. Where he thought he would find a man, he saw three black-and-white puppies fighting over a sock. One of them yipped, replicating the sound he’d heard before.
He turned back to her and saw she held another puppy in her arms.
“Where is who?” she asked, tilting her head as she stared at him.
“I… No one.” Feeling stupid, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. Is everything okay?”
He nodded. “Should I have called first?”
“Probably, but it’s okay that you didn’t.”
“You have puppies.”
“Four of them. Both their parents are great service dogs, and part of a breeding program. I’m keeping the puppies with me at night for a couple of weeks to help assess them. Max has them during the day.”
“He’s giving you the rough duty.”
“I’m the junior staff member. It’s part of my job.”
He tried to figure out what she was thinking. Feeling. When he’d last seen her, they’d argued. No, that wasn’t the right word. Whatever it had been, they hadn’t been getting along. Although he’d planned to spend the night with her, he’d ended up leaving.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. Are you?”
Very few people asked him that. He was the one in charge—the one who made the decisions, changed the lives.
“I thought you were mad at me,” he said.
“I was never mad.”
She set down the puppy. It raced off to join the others fighting with the sock. Sounds of their happy yips and growls provided surprisingly pleasant background noise.
“I missed you,” he admitted.
“So you decided I was seeing someone else?”
“Not until I got here and heard strange sounds.”
“You don’t date much, do you?” she asked.
“I don’t date at all.”
“I know there are women. You’re too hunky for them to ignore you. So what do you do with them?”
Hunky? No one had every described him that way. The thought was distracting. He was a freak. A monster. How could she see him so differently?
“I sometimes meet women. But it’s usually…light.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Let me guess. Dinner and small talk followed by mutually satisfying sex.”
“Something like that.”
She stared at him.
“Fine,” he ground out. “Exactly that.”
“Then, you leave them.”
“Then I leave.”
“Are you ever sorry? Do you ever miss these interchangeable women?”
“No.”
“Are you going to miss me?”
Now it was his turn to stare, to take in her wide eyes, her long blond hair, the shape of her mouth. He would know her taste or scent anywhere. There could be a thousand women in a dark room and he would have no trouble finding her.
He crossed the room and kissed her, doing his best to memorize her touch. She leaned into him, her arms wrapping around him, holding him close.
Her body tempted him and he used his hands to rediscover her curves. It was only an incessant tugging on the bottom of his jeans that caused him to draw back.
He glanced down and saw one of the puppies chewing on the fabric.
“Who are you?” he asked, bending over and scooping up the dog.
The puppy was more white than black, with a happy face and floppy ears. He relaxed as Simon rolled him onto his back and held him against his chest.
“That’s Palmer,” Montana told him. “There are three boys and one girl. Palmer, Jester, Bentley and Daphne.”
“Palmer, huh? That’s a big name to live up to.” He held the dog in the air as he spoke. Palmer swiped his tongue across Simon’s chin.
“You’re a natural,” she said.
He chuckled. “So, what’s the drill?”
“I do my best to tire them out, then we have a potty break before bed. About two in the morning I get them all up for another potty break, then we sleep until about five-thirty.”
“Grueling.”
“They’re worth the trouble.”
“Want some company?”
“You mean you want to stay here tonight?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure.”
Her answer burned down to his soul. He felt as if she’d hit him with the side of a car. “I see.”
“No, you don’t. You didn’t answer the question.”
It took him a second to remember, then he took her hand in his and kissed her palm.
“I’m sorry. I thought I had.” He looked at her. “I will miss you, Montana. For the first time in my life, I’ll regret leaving someone behind.”
She squeezed his fingers, then pulled her hand free.
“Okay, then. We’re going to play fetch. With nine-week-old puppies, it’s kind of an imperfect version, but it’s lots of fun.”
She walked over to the entertainment center in the corner and took four small balls off the top shelf. When she pushed them, they made a sharp, squeaking sound. All four puppies slid to a halt and turned to face her. Their ears were raised, their tails wagging in anticipation.
“Ready?” she asked, grinning.
The puppies were already running down the hall.
She threw all four balls at once. Barks exploded as the small dogs scrambled for a ball. Montana laughed and raced after them. Simon watched her and the puppies and knew that regret didn’t come close to what he would feel when it was time to leave.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“ONE MORE,” SIMON SAID, then pulled out the last stitch. He examined the boy’s face under the strong light, then nodded. “You’re good.”
Kent moved closer and studied his son’s cheek. “I can’t believe how fast he’s healing.”
“The advantage of being a healthy kid,” Simon said. He put his hand on Reese’s shoulder. “Change the bandage the same way you have been. Give it another week, then you’re done. I’m leaving you in charge.”
The boy grinned at him. “Sweet.” He turned to his dad. “Did you hear that?”
“I sure did.”
Reese scrambled off the table. “Can I go see Kalinda? I told her I was coming in today to get my stitches out, and she said I should go see her.”
While the girl’s fever was down, she wasn’t a hundred percent. Not by a long shot. Still, the company might help.
“You’ll have to wear a gown and mask,” Simon told him. “She can’t risk getting sick.”
“Sure! Will you come get me when you’re ready to leave?” Reese asked his father.
Kent nodded. “I’ll stop in and see one of the guys I know who works in the office. Then I’ll come get you.”
Reese ran off.
“He’s a good kid,” Simon said.
“Yes, he is. I got lucky with him.” They walked out of the examining room together. “How are you liking your time here in town?”
“Tell me you’re not part of the conspiracy,” Simon said.
“The one to get you to stay?” Kent shook his head. “I was just making conversation. But, given what I know about this town, I’m not surprised you’re getting a little pressure.”
“I’m flattered by the attention.”
They paused in the hallway. It was nearly lunch-time and the area was quiet.
“I have a question,” Kent said. “Feel free to tell me to mind my own business.”
Simon braced himself. Kent was Montana’s older brother. Of course he would be worried about family. “Ask away.”
“Why do you keep your scars? When Reese was hurt, I did some research online. Doctors have figured out a lot of ways to treat scars. I would guess you know about all of them.”
It wasn’t the question Simon had been expecting, nor did most people have the courage to ask it, although he knew they wondered.
“I keep them for my patients. I want them to know it’s okay to look different. I want them to believe they can still be happy, even if they have scars or some other kind of disfigurement.”
He also kept them as a reminder, but he wasn’t going to tell Kent that.
“That makes sense,” the other man told him. “I hope the question wasn’t too personal.”
“Hard to hide these.”
“Thanks again for everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
Kent walked toward the elevator. Simon took the stairs up a couple of floors and came out by the burn ward. He walked to Kalinda’s room and stopped when he heard the sound of laughter. From where he was standing he could see Reese walking like a zombie, his arms raised, his legs stiff. Both kids were giggling.
She wasn’t getting better fast enough. He knew that and didn’t know how to change things. The fever bothered him. It drained her and made it harder for her to heal. It meant her body was still adjusting, that there was still danger.
Uncertainty was part of the job, but he’d never accepted it. He always searched for answers, solutions that made sense. But sometimes they weren’t there. By now Kalinda should be progressing better. She should be safe and it didn’t sit well with him that she wasn’t.
“I THOUGHT DOCTORS TOOK OFF work to golf,” Montana said, sitting across from Simon in Margaritaville, one of the restaurants in town.
When he’d phoned her to ask if she wanted to have lunch, she’d suggested this place.
“You’re more interesting than golf,” he told her.
She laughed. “Is that even a compliment?”
“It is if you like golf.”
“Do you?”
He shrugged. “It’s okay.”
She laughed again. “Are you teasing me? Does the stern doctor board know? If they find out, you won’t be asked to speak at their conference.”
“I can live with the disappointment.”
“And here I wanted to see your picture in the newsletter.”
Their server appeared and quickly made guacamole tableside. Montana watched intently, giving herself over to the moment.
She did that a lot, he realized. So many parts of her life were fun. She must go from highlight to highlight. It would never be his style, but he could learn from her.
She stood. “I don’t think so. It was very nice to meet you, Art, but it’s time for me to go.”
He grabbed her hand. “You’ve been widowed ten years now. You’ve got to be hurting. I’m willing to help, offer what I can.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Frankly, the best idea seemed to be throwing his ice cubes with white wine in his lap. But that would cause a scene and she wasn’t that kind of woman. More’s the pity.
“Goodbye,” she said firmly, as she put her handbag over her shoulder.
She turned and marched purposefully toward the exit. The stone path was a little uneven and as she rounded the corner she nearly lost her balance. Before she began to fall, she felt someone take hold of her arm and steady her. For one horrifying moment, she thought that Art had followed her. That he was the kind of man who didn’t understand the word no.
She straightened and looked at the man who had rescued her.
Frying pan, meet fire, she thought, staring into a familiar pair of dark blue eyes.
She might not have seen Max Thurman in nearly forty years, having spent the past year avoiding running into him, but she sure recognized him. He had the same broad shoulders, the same muscled build. And, dammit all to hell, the man still looked like a god in jeans.
“Denise?”
Max stared at her. She thought he looked more pleased than surprised, but she wasn’t sure. Just as unsettling, her stomach went all fluttery, and she felt nervous, as she had when she’d first met him. She’d been seventeen and he’d been twenty. A man, while she’d still been on that cusp between girl and woman. The night of her eighteenth birthday he’d helped her cross over.
He grinned. “It is you. I’ve been hoping we would run—”
Into each other? Not likely. She’d done her best to make sure that never happened. She’d wanted to avoid any moment like this one.
“I have to go,” she said desperately, interrupting him.
She couldn’t talk to him now, not like this. Not after all this time. What if he saw Art and thought they were together? What if he said she looked old or…
Her mind was close to exploding with hideous scenarios. So much for the years adding serenity and grace.
Then she did the only thing she could think of. She ran.
SIMON STOOD IN FRONT of Montana’s door. He’d done his best to avoid her and instead had found himself missing everything about her. Being intelligent didn’t seem to play into his decision-making process. The need to see her overwhelmed everything else.
He raised his hand to knock, then heard a strange sound from inside. It was almost a cry, but one he couldn’t place. Was he interrupting something?
The thought of her with another man enraged him and he pounded his fist against the door. Who could she be with?
He waited while she called, “Just a minute.” Then the door opened.
Montana stood in front of him, wearing shorts, a cropped T-shirt and little else. Desire joined fury as he pushed past her and entered her living room.
“Where is he?”
He glanced around, expecting to see wine and candles. Instead the drapes were open, along with the windows. There was no evidence of a romantic evening. Where he thought he would find a man, he saw three black-and-white puppies fighting over a sock. One of them yipped, replicating the sound he’d heard before.
He turned back to her and saw she held another puppy in her arms.
“Where is who?” she asked, tilting her head as she stared at him.
“I… No one.” Feeling stupid, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. Is everything okay?”
He nodded. “Should I have called first?”
“Probably, but it’s okay that you didn’t.”
“You have puppies.”
“Four of them. Both their parents are great service dogs, and part of a breeding program. I’m keeping the puppies with me at night for a couple of weeks to help assess them. Max has them during the day.”
“He’s giving you the rough duty.”
“I’m the junior staff member. It’s part of my job.”
He tried to figure out what she was thinking. Feeling. When he’d last seen her, they’d argued. No, that wasn’t the right word. Whatever it had been, they hadn’t been getting along. Although he’d planned to spend the night with her, he’d ended up leaving.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. Are you?”
Very few people asked him that. He was the one in charge—the one who made the decisions, changed the lives.
“I thought you were mad at me,” he said.
“I was never mad.”
She set down the puppy. It raced off to join the others fighting with the sock. Sounds of their happy yips and growls provided surprisingly pleasant background noise.
“I missed you,” he admitted.
“So you decided I was seeing someone else?”
“Not until I got here and heard strange sounds.”
“You don’t date much, do you?” she asked.
“I don’t date at all.”
“I know there are women. You’re too hunky for them to ignore you. So what do you do with them?”
Hunky? No one had every described him that way. The thought was distracting. He was a freak. A monster. How could she see him so differently?
“I sometimes meet women. But it’s usually…light.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Let me guess. Dinner and small talk followed by mutually satisfying sex.”
“Something like that.”
She stared at him.
“Fine,” he ground out. “Exactly that.”
“Then, you leave them.”
“Then I leave.”
“Are you ever sorry? Do you ever miss these interchangeable women?”
“No.”
“Are you going to miss me?”
Now it was his turn to stare, to take in her wide eyes, her long blond hair, the shape of her mouth. He would know her taste or scent anywhere. There could be a thousand women in a dark room and he would have no trouble finding her.
He crossed the room and kissed her, doing his best to memorize her touch. She leaned into him, her arms wrapping around him, holding him close.
Her body tempted him and he used his hands to rediscover her curves. It was only an incessant tugging on the bottom of his jeans that caused him to draw back.
He glanced down and saw one of the puppies chewing on the fabric.
“Who are you?” he asked, bending over and scooping up the dog.
The puppy was more white than black, with a happy face and floppy ears. He relaxed as Simon rolled him onto his back and held him against his chest.
“That’s Palmer,” Montana told him. “There are three boys and one girl. Palmer, Jester, Bentley and Daphne.”
“Palmer, huh? That’s a big name to live up to.” He held the dog in the air as he spoke. Palmer swiped his tongue across Simon’s chin.
“You’re a natural,” she said.
He chuckled. “So, what’s the drill?”
“I do my best to tire them out, then we have a potty break before bed. About two in the morning I get them all up for another potty break, then we sleep until about five-thirty.”
“Grueling.”
“They’re worth the trouble.”
“Want some company?”
“You mean you want to stay here tonight?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure.”
Her answer burned down to his soul. He felt as if she’d hit him with the side of a car. “I see.”
“No, you don’t. You didn’t answer the question.”
It took him a second to remember, then he took her hand in his and kissed her palm.
“I’m sorry. I thought I had.” He looked at her. “I will miss you, Montana. For the first time in my life, I’ll regret leaving someone behind.”
She squeezed his fingers, then pulled her hand free.
“Okay, then. We’re going to play fetch. With nine-week-old puppies, it’s kind of an imperfect version, but it’s lots of fun.”
She walked over to the entertainment center in the corner and took four small balls off the top shelf. When she pushed them, they made a sharp, squeaking sound. All four puppies slid to a halt and turned to face her. Their ears were raised, their tails wagging in anticipation.
“Ready?” she asked, grinning.
The puppies were already running down the hall.
She threw all four balls at once. Barks exploded as the small dogs scrambled for a ball. Montana laughed and raced after them. Simon watched her and the puppies and knew that regret didn’t come close to what he would feel when it was time to leave.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“ONE MORE,” SIMON SAID, then pulled out the last stitch. He examined the boy’s face under the strong light, then nodded. “You’re good.”
Kent moved closer and studied his son’s cheek. “I can’t believe how fast he’s healing.”
“The advantage of being a healthy kid,” Simon said. He put his hand on Reese’s shoulder. “Change the bandage the same way you have been. Give it another week, then you’re done. I’m leaving you in charge.”
The boy grinned at him. “Sweet.” He turned to his dad. “Did you hear that?”
“I sure did.”
Reese scrambled off the table. “Can I go see Kalinda? I told her I was coming in today to get my stitches out, and she said I should go see her.”
While the girl’s fever was down, she wasn’t a hundred percent. Not by a long shot. Still, the company might help.
“You’ll have to wear a gown and mask,” Simon told him. “She can’t risk getting sick.”
“Sure! Will you come get me when you’re ready to leave?” Reese asked his father.
Kent nodded. “I’ll stop in and see one of the guys I know who works in the office. Then I’ll come get you.”
Reese ran off.
“He’s a good kid,” Simon said.
“Yes, he is. I got lucky with him.” They walked out of the examining room together. “How are you liking your time here in town?”
“Tell me you’re not part of the conspiracy,” Simon said.
“The one to get you to stay?” Kent shook his head. “I was just making conversation. But, given what I know about this town, I’m not surprised you’re getting a little pressure.”
“I’m flattered by the attention.”
They paused in the hallway. It was nearly lunch-time and the area was quiet.
“I have a question,” Kent said. “Feel free to tell me to mind my own business.”
Simon braced himself. Kent was Montana’s older brother. Of course he would be worried about family. “Ask away.”
“Why do you keep your scars? When Reese was hurt, I did some research online. Doctors have figured out a lot of ways to treat scars. I would guess you know about all of them.”
It wasn’t the question Simon had been expecting, nor did most people have the courage to ask it, although he knew they wondered.
“I keep them for my patients. I want them to know it’s okay to look different. I want them to believe they can still be happy, even if they have scars or some other kind of disfigurement.”
He also kept them as a reminder, but he wasn’t going to tell Kent that.
“That makes sense,” the other man told him. “I hope the question wasn’t too personal.”
“Hard to hide these.”
“Thanks again for everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
Kent walked toward the elevator. Simon took the stairs up a couple of floors and came out by the burn ward. He walked to Kalinda’s room and stopped when he heard the sound of laughter. From where he was standing he could see Reese walking like a zombie, his arms raised, his legs stiff. Both kids were giggling.
She wasn’t getting better fast enough. He knew that and didn’t know how to change things. The fever bothered him. It drained her and made it harder for her to heal. It meant her body was still adjusting, that there was still danger.
Uncertainty was part of the job, but he’d never accepted it. He always searched for answers, solutions that made sense. But sometimes they weren’t there. By now Kalinda should be progressing better. She should be safe and it didn’t sit well with him that she wasn’t.
“I THOUGHT DOCTORS TOOK OFF work to golf,” Montana said, sitting across from Simon in Margaritaville, one of the restaurants in town.
When he’d phoned her to ask if she wanted to have lunch, she’d suggested this place.
“You’re more interesting than golf,” he told her.
She laughed. “Is that even a compliment?”
“It is if you like golf.”
“Do you?”
He shrugged. “It’s okay.”
She laughed again. “Are you teasing me? Does the stern doctor board know? If they find out, you won’t be asked to speak at their conference.”
“I can live with the disappointment.”
“And here I wanted to see your picture in the newsletter.”
Their server appeared and quickly made guacamole tableside. Montana watched intently, giving herself over to the moment.
She did that a lot, he realized. So many parts of her life were fun. She must go from highlight to highlight. It would never be his style, but he could learn from her.
