Dr. Holt And The Texan. Suzannah Davis
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Considering I spend a lot of my time perusing the inside of motel rooms, it looks okay to me. And I know what you mean. I’m on the road so much, there’s no time to smell the roses, much less for someone special.”
“Don’t tell me you lack for company.” Her voice was skeptical. “I’ve had a sample of that potent cowboy charm of yours tonight, and I won’t believe you.”
He smiled, pleased at her admission. “Glad you enjoyed yourself, darlin’.”
She tugged off her cape, looking willow slender and pale and suddenly uncertain. “Ah, I’d offer you coffee, but it’s so late....”
He twirled his hat between his hands. “I should be going.”
“It’s been wonderful seeing you again. Where are you heading from here?”
“Oklahoma City next week. Got to see a man about a bull.”
She grimaced. “Travis—”
“No, really,” he protested with a deep laugh. “Sam Preston and I are running rodeo stock together now. King & Preston Stock Company.”
“Sam? Kenny’s brother?”
Her astonishment was plain, and he didn’t blame her. He and Sam were unlikely partners.
“Heck of a thing, huh? We’re working hard at it I’m the front man, and Sam runs the operation in Flat Fork. Could pan out pretty well, I guess. You know Sam married Roni Daniels a few months back?”
“No, I hadn’t heard. That’s nice.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, then Travis went to her, his hand extended. “I’ll say good night.”
She moistened her lips, then slipped her slender hand into his outsize paw. She made a vague gesture at his bandage with her free hand. “You’ll need those stitches out in a few days.”
“I know the drill.”
“And about those tests. If you’ll call me, I’ll be glad to set them up.”
“Uh, Mercy?” Eyes locked on their joined hands, he cleared his throat. “I have a confession.”
“You do?”
“I don’t need those tests.”
She jerked, but he didn’t release her hand. “Travis, you promised.”
“I’ve already had them.”
“What?”
“Every one in the book, and a few they made up just for me,” he admitted.
This time she did manage to free her hand, and her voice was cold. “And the results of these tests?”
He shrugged. “I’ve got a bit of problem. Chronic, you know, but nothing I’m not handling.”
“They told you not to ride again,” she stated flatly.
“They told me the risks, but, hell, it’s nothing worse than a thousand other bull riders have to deal with, and I’m a whole lot better than some.”
“So you ride and risk—what? Permanent pain? Complete disability? Or worse?” Her words were clipped, coldly furious. “Why the hell would you do something so completely asinine?”
“It’s what a world champion does, darlin’.” He lifted a placating hand. “Give me a little credit. I know what I’m doing. Besides, it’s all part of the game.”
“Game?” She spit the word. “Was that what this was all about tonight? You lied so I’d agree to come out with you. You used my feelings so you could manipulate me. Well, thank you very much, old friend.”
“It wasn’t like that!” Exasperated, he shoved on his hat. “I just wanted to buy you a meal.”
“What it boils down to is that you and your monumental ego haven’t changed a bit, Travis King. You aren’t a kid anymore. Don’t you realize you could end up crippled, or even dead? Or are you so addicted to the thrill of being champion you don’t care?”
Her caustic words pricked a tender spot, and his temper flared. “Wait a damn minute. Isn’t there something about ‘Physician, heal thyself’?” You’re just as much an adrenaline junkie as I am, traipsing around that E.R., getting high on all that power.”
She gasped in outrage. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? And what have you got to show for it? An anonymous apartment, dead flowers and not a friend or lover in sight.” His mouth twisted. “At least I got a belt buckle.”
“Cold comfort for a womanizing rascal who never grew up,” she said with a sneer.
Travis felt his cheeks heat. “I don’t get many complaints.”
“No, luckily for you all those teenage buckle bunnies shoving their phone numbers down those tight jeans of yours don’t have a lot with which to compare your performance.” Mercy tilted her chin in challenge. “I wonder how you’d stack up against someone your own size.”
Eyes narrowed, he growled. “Let’s see.”
Hooking a hand around her nape, Travis jerked her against his chest, then found her mouth with his. She pushed at him, her hands twisting in the lapels of his jacket. Clamping his arm around her waist, he molded her close from breast to hip and felt her quiver. Her mouth was hot with fury, sweet with her own unique feminine fire, and after a moment he forgot exactly what it was he wanted to prove, forgot everything except that he was a hungry man and she was his only sustenance.
Softening the pressure, he wooed her, seduced her into her own softening, expertly parted her lips with his tongue and swept deeply into the mysteries of her mouth to taste her essence. Now she was clinging to him, her limbs melting, her lips soft and tremulous, and neither of them knew the reason this had begun, only that it ended too soon.
Travis drew back, shaken and breathing hard, looking into Mercy’s face. He instantly regretted what he saw, the pale and stricken features, the swollen lips, the rosy abrasion of his late-day stubble against her tender skin. When she made a little stumbling movement, he released her, and his hands felt empty.
Her eyes were the turbulent shadowed blue of a thunderhead. “You...you’d better go.”
It was the least he could do. “Mercy, I—”
She turned away, her shoulders hunched defensively. “Just get out.”
He let himself out, somehow ending up in his truck without quite knowing how his shaky legs had brought him there. Numb with self-loathing, he stared bleakly out the windshield, then slammed his fist against the steering wheel.
“Dammit! Dammit to hell!”
He’d blown it. He cursed because he was too much of a man to cry, even though that’s what he felt like doing. God help him, one touch of her lips and he was calf sick with love for the little rich gal, Mercy Holt, just like it was yesterday.
Only it had been impossible then, because she’d been his best friend’s girl.
And it was still impossible now, even after all this time, because he’d killed Kenny, and she would never get over that.
Two
Well, she’d always wondered. Secretly, she’d wondered. And now she knew.
Mercy pushed at her disheveled hair, took another look at the unappetizing mess of canned vegetable soup congealing in the bowl, then shoved it across the kitchen bar. She needed to eat something before she left for her evening shift at the hospital, but her stomach was in a knot that wouldn’t unravel, had been since Travis King’s devastating kiss.
And that’s what it had been—devastating. Rawly male, possessive, so skilful and evocative he’d drawn the will