Dr. Holt And The Texan. Suzannah Davis
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that she’d already decided the better part of discretion was to keep her distance. She shook her head.
“Thanks, but I really can’t. There’s laundry piled up, and I’ve got some reading to do—”
Travis tsked between his teeth and took her arm, leading her down the antiseptic-smelling corridor. “Not much of a life for a pretty gal like you.”
“We’re not all party animals.” Her tone was crisp, but there was no way she could untangle herself from his grasp without calling attention, and they were attracting plenty of that from the staff and the patients lined up in the E.R. waiting room as it was.
“You’ve got to stop and smell the roses, sometimes, blue eyes.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“So?” He lifted one dark eyebrow.
She relented slightly. “So your bouquet, which I’ve babied with doses of aspirin, is opening up beautifully. And yes, I’ve been smelling those damned flowers.”
Actually there was no way she could avoid it, for the scent of roses filled her to house, and each time she opened the door, she was greeted by the sweet fragrance of springtime and youth and renewed hope.
Travis’s smile was slow and satisfied. “See,” he said softly, “I’m a good influence.”
Mercy rolled her eyes. “Give me a break, Travis. Nobody ever raised as much hell as you.”
He placed a hand over his heart, mock wounded, his coffee-colored eyes devilish. “Maybe, but nobody ever has as much fun, either. And you could use a good dose of that, gal.”
“I’m all right.”
He snorted. “Sure you are. Somebody needs to take care of you, so come on. Dr. King’s orders.”
Ignoring her protests, he trundled her off in his black truck to the Stockyards, now a tourist mecca of shops and restaurants and clubs she’d rarely visited, then plied her with slabs of baby back ribs from Riscky’s Barbeque. Afterward he insisted they go two-stepping at the infamous Billy Bob’s Texas, where, not to Mercy’s surprise, he was recognized and greeted with obvious affection by every two out of three luscious cowgirls who frequented the tourist honky-tonk.
While his easy teasing and cowboy foolishness kept her laughing, and on the surface they were back on their old friendly footing, Mercy kept her guard up against a resurgence of that odd flare of awareness. Like a swift current beneath a still river, she knew instinctively it was dangerous and better left to braver souls to navigate.
Still, when Travis dropped her off at home a few hours later, again refusing her invitation to come in, Mercy was pleasantly tired, but amazed at how relaxed she felt. Flinging herself into her rumpled bed, she realized that he’d been right. Fun was an area in her life that was in severe deprivation. She’d have to do something more positive about fulfilling that need on a regular basis. Only, the last thought in her hazy brain as she dropped off to sleep was that it wouldn’t be quite the same without Travis around....
And he was around a lot over the next few days. In fact, despite her repeated resolutions to the contrary, she couldn’t avoid him. He appeared when she least expected, then whisked her off to some new adventure, not even giving her the chance to refuse. He took her for a ride down the interstate to blow the cobwebs out of her tired brain, bought her fast-food breakfasts, took her to a midnight cult movie, massaged her feet! When he drove up to Oklahoma City alone to inspect a new bull for King and Preston Stock Company, he arranged for a pizza delivery to her town house to make certain she would eat.
She certainly wasn’t accustomed to such attention. Indeed, she felt faintly guilty at the amount of time he invested in her “prescription” of TLC. But there seemed no way to avoid the runaway freight train that was Travis turning on the charm for an old friend, and after a while she didn’t even try to get out of the way. And if she wondered at his motives, well, she knew he was a tumbleweed who’d blow out of her life very soon, the same way he’d blown in again. She was just needy enough to pretend that the occasional tingles reminding her he was all man were nothing but an aberration she’d soon recover from. She decided to count herself lucky that their friendship was still intact and take what she could get.
At this stage in her life it was all she could hope for. And down deep she had a sneaking suspicion it was more than she deserved.
He was a glutton for punishment, that’s all there was to it
Travis jabbed the doorbell on Mercy’s town house and wondered what the hell he was doing. He should have been long gone by now-heck, he would have to fly instead of drive to Colorado Springs this weekend to make the opening round—and instead here he was, traipsing around after Mercy Holt like a flop-eared hound dog puppy, hoping for some scraps—of affection, of notice, hell, of anything!
He’d been sweet as pie after nearly blowing it with her that first night—chaste as a monk, hardly crowding her at all. When what he really wanted was to take her in his arms again, to take her sweet mouth under his and see if she was really as delectable as he remembered. In fact, he wanted it so badly he was on the verge of a major explosion. His strategy of platonic friendliness was a ploy, a ruse to let her become familiar with him before he escalated his battle plan to make Mercy see him as something other than an old pal. But how the hell was he going to do that if she continued to treat him like her older brother! He ought to have his bull-battered head examined.
The door swung open, and Mercy stood in her robe, one hand clutching the lapels to her creamy throat, her golden hair streaming loose about her shoulders. “Oh, Travis, hi.”
“Hi, yourself, blue eyes.” The state of her dishabille and the wary light in her eyes made him wonder if she were naked under the forest green terry cloth. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops to keep from reaching for her.
“Uh, this isn’t a good time.” She gestured over her shoulder. “I was just getting in the shower before I have to leave for work.”
“Hey, I know I’m a nuisance, but I was wondering...”
“Yes?”
He tapped the bandage at his temple, inwardly grimacing that he was reduced to concocting any excuse to be with her. “About time these stitches came out. Think you could help me out? I’ve got a big date with a bull in Colorado Springs tomorrow night and I want to look my best.”
“You’re going—?” She caught herself, but not before he heard the dismay in her tone. Of maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.
“Yeah, Colorado over the weekend, then back to Flat Fork after that. Some prime stock’s come up missing, and Sam’s flat ticked about the situation. So if you don’t mind playing doc...”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Sure, come in.”
As he stepped over the threshold, he could hear water running. “Look, you go ahead and get that shower while the water’s hot, then we can tend to this and I’ll be out of your hair in two shakes of a piggin’ string.”
She smiled. “Okay. Make yourself at home.”
While she headed off for the bathroom, Travis moseyed around the living area, noticing that not much had changed since his last visit It was still a mess. Shrugging, he hung up his hat and went to work.
“Oh, my God, what have you done?”
A short time later Travis looked up from wiping out the kitchen sink to find Mercy gazing at him in absolute horror. She was still in her robe, her skin glowing and dewy from her shower, her freshly shampooed hair hidden under a towel that was wrapped turbanlike around her head. She carried her doctor’s bag in her hand.
His lips twitched. “I think it’s called housework.”
She looked at the spotless cabinets, the gleaming sink, the clean dishes in the drainboard, the neatly stacked paypers and cleared