Falling For The Rancher. Tanya Michaels
Читать онлайн книгу.
e209e7-0b07-51ab-ae53-8c508641db7b">
“I think … I think I need some fresh air.”
They abandoned the floor midsong, and Sierra made a beeline toward the exit. Outside, the night air was cool against her skin, but the second she looked into Jarrett’s eyes, she was feverish again.
He spoke first. “I hope I didn’t upset you with what I said.”
“No. I’m glad you showed up here. Glad I got to dance with you.”
“We don’t have to stop,” he said, pulling her closer.
“But maybe we should.” Despite her sensible words, she leaned into him, indulging herself in the feel of their bodies tangled together. Her hands glided up his back. This was such a bad idea. “I work for you. My professionalism is very important to me.” She was beginning to realize her job was all she had. “I would never compromise myself with a patient.”
He brushed his thumb over the corner of her mouth, and she shivered. “Then I guess,” he said as he lowered his head, “it’s a good thing I’m not your patient.”
Falling for the Rancher
Tanya Michaels
TANYA MICHAELS, a New York Times bestselling author and five-time RITA® Award nominee, has been writing love stories since middle school algebra class (which probably explains her maths grades). Her books, praised for their poignancy and humor, have received awards from readers and reviewers alike. Tanya is an active member of Romance Writers of America and a frequent public speaker. She lives outside Atlanta with her very supportive husband, two highly imaginative kids and a bichon frise who thinks she’s the center of the universe.
While I was writing this book that features someone in health care, my daughter actually had quite a few medical appointments. Thank you to her nurses—and nurses in general—for their time and effort in a demanding profession.
Contents
It was surreal, staring at a photo of himself and feeling as if he were looking at a stranger. No, that wasn’t exactly right, Jarrett Ross amended, studying the framed rodeo picture on the wall of his father’s home office. The word stranger implied he didn’t know the dark-haired cowboy, that he had no feelings about him one way or the other.
A wave of contempt hit him as he studied the cocky smile and silvery, carefree gaze. Selfish SOB. Six months ago, his only concerns had been which events to ride and which appreciative buckle-bunny to celebrate with after he won. A lot had changed since then.
Six months ago, Vicki wasn’t in a wheelchair.
“Jarrett?”
He turned as Anne Ross entered the room. He’d been so mired in regret he’d almost forgotten he was waiting for his mother. Dread welled as she closed the door behind her. Did they need the privacy because there was more bad news to discuss? He wanted to sink into the leather chair behind the desk and bury his face in his hands. But he remained standing, braced for whatever life threw at them next.
“How did Dad’s appointment go?” Jarrett hadn’t been able to accompany his parents to the hospital this afternoon. There was too much to do at the Twisted R now that he was the only one working the ranch. But even without the countless tasks necessary to keep the place running, he would have stayed behind in case Vicki needed him—not that his sister voluntarily sought out his company these days.
“You know your father. He’s a terrible patient.” Anne rolled her eyes, but her attempt to lighten the situation didn’t mask her concern. “Overall, the doctor says we’re lucky. He’s recovering as well as can be expected from the heart attack and the surgery. The thing is...”
Jarrett gripped the back of the chair, waiting for the other boot to drop.
His mother came forward and sat down in the chair across from him, the stress of the past few months plain on her face. Even more telling was the slump of her shoulders. She’d always had a ramrod-straight posture, whether sitting in a saddle or waltzing across a dance floor with her husband.
“I have to get your father off this ranch,” she said bluntly. “I’ve been after him for years to slow down, to get away for a few days. I even tried to talk him into selling the place.”
That revelation stunned Jarrett. He’d never realized his mom’s complaints about the demands of ranch life were serious. He’d thought her occasional grumbling was generic and innocuous, like jokes about hating Mondays. People griped about it all the time, but no one actually suggested removing Monday from the calendar. It was impossible to imagine Gavin Ross anywhere but at the Twisted R. Not sure how to respond, he paced restlessly around the office. Despite the many hours he’d spent here over the past month, it still felt like trespassing. As if his father should be the one sitting