“I Wouldn’t Look At Me Like That If I Were You, Unless...” Letter to Reader Title Page MARY LYNN BAXTER Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Epilogue Copyright

“I Wouldn’t Look At Me Like That If I Were You, Unless...”

Clark let the rest of his sentence trail off, but the message was clear.

“Sorry,” Sara muttered, ducking her head.

This urban cowboy was toying with her affections big time, and she was wallowing in it like someone starving for love and attention. So why didn’t she call a halt to this madness and insist he take her home? Now.

She licked her lips. “I’d... better go home.”

He moved his head close to her face and whispered, “Not now.”

“When?’ she whispered back, swaying toward him.

He closed his arms around her. “After we make love.”

Dear Reader,

Hey, look us over—our brand-new cover makes Silhouette Desire look more desirable than ever! And between the covers we’re continuing to offer those powerful, passionate and provocative love stories featuring rugged heroes and spirited heroines.

Mary Lynn Baxter returns to Desire and locates our November MAN OF THE MONTH in the Heart of Texas, where a virgin heroine is wary of involvement with a younger man.

More heart-pounding excitement can be found in the next installment of the Desire miniseries TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB with Secret Agent Dad by Metsy Hingle. Undercover agent Blake Hunt loses his memory but gains adorable twin babies—and the heart of lovely widow Josie Walters!

Ever-popular Dixie Browning presents a romance in which opposites attract in The Bride-in-Law. Elizabeth Bevarly offers you A Doctor in Her Stocking, another entertaining story in her miniseries FROM HERE TO MATERNITY. The Daddy Search is Shawna Delacorte’s story of a woman’s search for the man she believes fathered her late sister’s child. And a hero and heroine are in jeopardy on an island paradise in Kathleen Korbel’s Sail Away.

Each and every month, Silhouette Desire offers you six exhilarating journeys into the seductive world of romance. So make a commitment to sensual love and treat yourself to all six!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

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Heart of Texas

Mary Lynn Baxter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MARY LYNN BAXTER

A native Texan, Mary Lynn Baxter knew instinctively that books would occupy an important part of her life. Always an avid reader, she became a school librarian, then a bookstore owner, before writing her first novel.

Now Mary Lynn Baxter is an award-winning author who has written more than thirty novels, many of which have appeared on the USA Today bestseller list.

One

Sara Ann Wilson.

Her name had rattled around in Clark Garrison’s mind since he’d left Houston and headed for River Oaks. Although he finally spoke the name aloud, he still couldn’t believe the connection.

Why not? he asked himself as his Lexus sports utility vehicle hit the city limits of the small town—so small that it had only one caution light, a gas station and a grocery store of sorts. Some things, least of all small towns, never changed.

He didn’t know anything about the “grown-up” Sara Wilson. All he remembered was that he had dated her younger sister, Alice, and that Alice’s sister and mother hadn’t particularly liked him.

Alice had never said as much, but he knew that Katherine Wilson had thought he wasn’t good enough for Alice, that he was wild and unsupervised, the town’s bad boy. A snarl curled Clark’s lip. If she’d only known about her darling daughter—talk about wild.

As for Sara, he remembered very little, except that she’d been five years older than Alice and him, making her thirty-nine now. He racked his brain trying to recall what she looked like. No specifics came to mind other than she was tall and willowy and had auburn colored hair. She must not have been attractive or he would’ve remembered. A pretty face or a great body rarely got past him.

However, he did recall that Sara had been quiet and on the shy side, that she never seemed to have much to say. Smart. Alice always used to whine that Sara got all the brains in the family.

Not only did she have to be smart, but she had to have money to buy a nursing facility. Hell, as far as he knew she could be a millionaire, but he doubted that. In that postage-stamp-size town, there were no secrets.

It was open season on what went on behind closed doors. If Sara had come into a fortune, he would have heard it through the gossip pipeline. On second thought, maybe he wouldn’t have, since neither one of them lived in River Oaks, hadn’t for years.

After his boss, Lance Norton had given him the folder on the nursing facility, he’d had time only to glance at it, the owners’ names popping up first thing: Don and Opal Merrick and Sara Wilson.

His plan had been to study the file in detail before leaving the office, but that plan had gone awry. He’d had several important calls on other pending deals that demanded his attention. Also he’d had correspondence to dictate to his secretary.

However, as soon as he reached his aunt’s house, he would memorize everything in the file. His guns would definitely be loaded when he started on the hunt.

Business was booming, a fact that gave Clark the urge to pat himself on the back. He’d certainly done his share and more to make the company what it was today. But then, he was amply paid for what he did, not only in money but in stock. He had no kicks coming on that score.

One thing for sure, people would keep growing old, and the need for nursing homes and other special-care facilities would forever be in demand. And he planned to meet that demand, be Johnny-on-the-spot, to buy and sell those facilities in order to turn a profit.

Once he had himself a sizable nest egg, however, he’d always said he would retire. At thirty-four he had that goal already within reach. A grin teased Clark’s mouth as he thought about his cattle ranch in East Texas where he planned to settle.

But he wasn’t near ready to leave the city, to wake up to the sounds of nature instead of sounds of human beings. Maybe when he was too old to do anything except rock on the porch, he’d seriously consider making the move.

Yet there were times, like now, when he wished he were at the ranch helping his foreman Joe Hanover brand cattle, especially with the cool snap they were having, which accounted for his added energy.

However, that energy would be better used on the job he was sent here to do. Acquiring the nursing facility, Quiet Haven, and the surrounding land would be a real coup for Norton and Associates. He was the man who could pull that off.

In fact, this deal had the potential to be the biggest ever. An interstate was due eventually to go through the area which meant the property would be worth millions.

But it was imperative that he move fast while the news of the pending highway was still under wraps.

Now as he whipped his vehicle into his aunt’s drive and killed the engine, he sat for a few minutes and stared at the place where he’d spent his teenage years after his parents’ death in a house fire.

He knew Zelma had done the best she could with an orphaned boy who was headstrong and most times belligerent, who was more interested in kissing the girls than getting his lessons.

Not much had changed on that score, he thought with a cynical smile before reaching in the back seat for his briefcase. He stretched to grab the handle, as the case had shifted during the drive.

“Hellfire!”

That wrenching cry came from his toenails. His back! He’d thrown his back out again.

Clark cursed a blue streak, but it still didn’t change the fact that he was frozen in pain, at least for the time being. But dammit, he had to move. He couldn’t sit in the vehicle indefinitely.

Gritting his teeth and ignoring the sweat that poured profusely from his skin, he opened the door and eased his feet onto the ground. Bent to one side, he crept onto the porch and lowered himself gingerly onto the swing.

Nausea almost got the best of him before he could suck enough air into his lungs to stave it off. But the pain. Oh, the pain. He’d swear someone was poking him with a hot cattle prod.

He was in one helluva mess.

“Whoever you are, mister, you’re on private property.”

Clark smothered another curse, having recognized the stale voice right off. It belonged to Daisy Floyd, Zelma’s neighbor, who was older than dirt, blinder than a bat and the biggest gossip in town. Oh, dear Lord, please deliver him. What had he done to deserve her?

He opened his eyes to find Daisy’s wrinkled face peering at his, her cloudy blue eyes narrowed to slits and her false teeth not quite in place.

“Hello, Daisy,” he managed to say, though it took almost all his existing energy.

“Is that you, sonny boy?” she yelled.

Clark cringed, having forgotten that she was deaf as a post to boot. “Yes, Daisy, it’s me.”

“What’s the matter? You look plum green around the gills.”

Maybe the old busybody wasn’t as blind as he’d thought. Or maybe he looked worse than he thought. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except finding some relief from the sharp, shooting pain.

“It’s my back. I pulled it out of whack.”

“How’d you do that?”

“How doesn’t matter, Daisy,” Clark said through clenched teeth and with as much patience as he could muster, which amounted to very little. He had to get rid of this pesky woman and do something, anything to get relief.

“Have you been to see Zelma up at the nursing home?”

“No, Daisy.”

“Figures. You ain’t never been concerned about her.”

“I just got into town.”

“That’s no excuse. She asks for you all the time, you know?”

He didn’t know, and now that he did, it made him feel worse. Guilt became another source of pain, but only for a second. Hell, he wasn’t about to fall into that old gar hole and let Daisy Floyd jerk his chain as she’d done so many times in his youth.

He wouldn’t be rude to this old lady, but he didn’t intend to take any crap from her, either. He wasn’t a teenager without a home any longer.

“Daisy, thanks for checking on me, but I know you have things to do.”

“No, I don’t,” she said in a voice that sounded like scrunched up parchment.

Clark blew out a breath as another jolt of pain hit him. “Well, I do,” he said, pushing his words through jaws that felt locked.

“What’s wrong with your back, sonny?”

“I told you, I pulled it out. I have a bunch of messed up vertebraes.”

“You need a doctor.”

No joke, he wanted to lash out, but refrained. It wasn’t her fault that he’d injured himself. Why didn’t she go away and leave him alone to suffer in silence? But then, she’d never left them alone. His aunt hadn’t liked her any more than he had.

“Since old Newt retired, I know there’s not a doctor in this one-horse town.”

“You watch your mouth, boy. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with this town, you hear?”

“You’re right, Daisy. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“We do have a doctor.”

Clark’s spirits brightened considerably, only to dim just as quickly. He couldn’t believe the old bat knew what she was talking about. Surely another doctor in his right mind wouldn’t set up practice here. But at this point, he’d settle for a good vet.

“Who and where is this doctor?” Clark asked in a tight voice.

Daisy beckoned with her head. “Down yonder.”

“Where’s down yonder?” His pain and his temper were fast reaching saturation level. He didn’t know how much longer he could remain on an unsteady porch swing or put up with this aggravating old broad.

“On Windom Street. Six-nineteen to be exact.”

“What’s his name?”

“It ain’t no he.”

“You mean the doctor’s a woman?”

“Yep. And she’s a sight better than any doctor where you come from,” Daisy continued, “if you’re not too high and mighty to go to her, that is.”

Clark let that one slide. Besides, this conversation had run its course. Even if he had to crawl back to his vehicle, he was getting rid of this woman.

“Her name’s Dr. Wilson. Sara Wilson.”

Daisy spoke with such pride in her voice that for a second the name didn’t register. Then it hit him with the same vengeance as another burning prod to his back.

“Sara Ann Wilson?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“That’s her,” Daisy responded, pride deepening her voice.

Clark groaned inwardly. Was this really happening? Yes, and his misery wasn’t near over yet. He was accustomed to the best sports doctors in the business working on his chronic back pain, which had been brought on by an old football injury from his college days. He didn’t want this small-town doctor working on him, especially because he planned on having a business relationship with her.

Damn! Fate had definitely kicked him in the gut.

“She’s one of them pull-and-stretch doctors.”

“You mean chiropractor?”

“That’s what I said.”

Despite his condition, Clark almost laughed outright. Talk about a quirky twist of events, this was it. But not a good one, he told himself, trying to decide if he should crawl to his vehicle and attempt to make it back to Lufkin.

He moved slightly only to yelp out loud.

“You’re in sad shape, sonny boy.”

Clark glared at Daisy, then holding onto one arm of the swing, he staggered to his feet. However, that was as far as he could go.

“Want me to help you?” Daisy asked.

Hell, no! “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Put your arm around my shoulders.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Daisy pointed her finger in his face. “You always were one to argue with your elders. For once, just do as you’re told.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Somehow Daisy managed to help him inside the Lexus without further harm to him and without any to her. In fact, she was much stronger than she looked; he’d have to hand her that. She might be old, but she wasn’t dead—far from it.

Minutes later he brought the vehicle to a stop in the doctor’s driveway, then very gingerly made his way to the front door. But not without cost. A new onslaught of sweat drenched him, and he suspected his face was the color of paste.

He practically fell against the doorbell and stayed there. Yet it seemed an eternity before he heard any sound of life. If she wasn’t at home, he didn’t know what he’d do.

The door swung open.

“Yes?” a soft voice asked before her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Clark said in a low, terse voice, “but I’m—”

“In pain. That’s obvious.”

Clark clamped his jaw shut, another pain spasming his back.

“Clark Garrison, right?”

Before he could respond to the fact that she recognized him after all these years, a wave of dizziness swept over him, and he pitched forward into her arms.

Her gasp was the last thing he remembered.

Two

Later Sara couldn’t have said how she remained upright, much less got this six-foot-two lug of a man to the floor without causing further injuries. An added miracle was that she positioned him on his back.

If she hadn’t seen his twisted features, she would have sworn he was drunk, something that wouldn’t have surprised her, considering who he was and what she knew about him.

Although it had been years since she’d seen him, she would have recognized him anywhere. His appearance hadn’t changed all that much except that he had gotten better looking, if that was possible. Alice and every other girl her age had thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. These days Sara suspected that women thought the same thing.

Now, however, was not the time to rehash what a conceited “bad boy” her sister’s ex-boyfriend had been. Her job was to revive him and relieve his pain as quickly as she could.

At this point Sara couldn’t say who was perspiring the most, him or her. Geez, she’d had some memorable moments in her tenure as a chiropractor, but this one would go down in the history books as the most bizarre to date.

A smile unwittingly tugged at her lips. Wasn’t it supposed to be every woman’s secret dream to have a gorgeous man fall at her feet? While she had no such dream, she could appreciate the moment.

“Clark, Clark,” she said, “can you hear me?”

He grunted, then nodded.

Relief surged through her. “Welcome back.”

“Yeah, right.”

Apparently he hadn’t lost total consciousness which was good and bad. His tolerance for pain, it seemed, was quite low, a weakness found in many of her male patients. “Can you tell me, or better yet, pinpoint where you hurt the most?”

There were a million other questions she would’ve liked to ask, such as how had he known who she was and where she lived. But those questions were easily answered. In a town the size of River Oaks, nothing was sacred.

He seemed comfortable, sprawled on the carpet that covered her hardwood floor. At least he was no longer moaning, and a semblance of color had returned to his face.

“The cattle prod’s right here.” Clark rolled onto his stomach, grimacing, and placed his hand in the middle of his lower back.

His analogy brought another smile to Sara’s lips, although she knew exactly what he was saying. In order to understand back pain, one had to have experienced it. She certainly had. That was one of the reasons she had chosen this profession.

“Let’s see if we can’t get rid of that prod,” she said, “but I’m making no promises. This situation is far from ideal, but then, I don’t have to tell you that.”

“Dammit, lady, just do what you gotta do, okay?”

“I have a table in my spare bedroom. You think you could make it in there?”

“Do I have to?”

Sara picked up on his shallow breathing at the same time she noticed the muscles in his jaw were bunched. “No. I think I can make an adjustment right here and work the kink out. A hard surface is what we need, and the floor certainly is that.”

“Go for it.” He cursed. “Otherwise, I’m not sure I’m going to live through this.”

Sara hid a smile. “Oh, I suspect you’ll live. I’m good at what I do.”

“Let us pray.”

“Your shirt has to come off,” Sara said calmly but crisply, ignoring his ill humor and crankiness.

He struggled onto his elbows. Between the two of them, the shirt was soon off and tossed aside. Once he was again flat on his stomach with head to one side, she knelt and placed her hands on his upper back, then began a slow, deliberate descent down toward his lower back, touching, pressing in what she knew were just the right spots.

He moaned.

“Am I hurting you?”

“God, no,” he rasped. “Please don’t stop. Your hands feel like magic.”

Sara had had her hands on numerous bodies, most of them male due to the numerous ranching and farming jobs around River Oaks. Never once had she experienced any stimulation whatsoever. Until now. Suddenly, she was light-headed, and her mouth was dry as her hands massaged his muscles.

Maybe it was because she knew him from back when, knew that he had been in her house, knew that he had dated Alice, knew that he had possibly been intimate with her sister.

The latter thought rocked her to the core. So what if he’d fooled around with her sister? It was nothing to her. It hadn’t been then and it sure wasn’t now.

Clark moaned again as her hands touched the right spot directly above his waistline. Sara watched as the hard, tanned muscles rippled and quivered underneath her fingers. What a great body, she thought, feeling her mind jump back on that runaway train headed down that forbidden track.

The first time Clark Garrison walked into their old rambling house on Vine Street, which had long since been sold, her breath had almost stopped. She would never forget that moment. His confident swagger and devilish smile had brightened their dreary kitchen like a dose of unfiltered sunlight.

She had remembered thinking, If only he was older and she was prettier, maybe he would’ve stared at her with those hungry eyes instead of her sister.

Stop it! Sara chided herself, feeling her face flame and hearing him yelp. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You hit the place.” His words came out a grunt, and she noticed new patches of sweat on the exposed side of his face.

“I want you to roll over. Your knee needs to come up to your waist,” Sara told him, her tone all business now. “The pain will be severe at first, then it’ll taper off.”

“I know,” he ground out. “That’s what my doctor does at home.”

Once she had the knee where she wanted it, cupped into his waist, and her hands back on his flesh, she felt the knotted muscles give way.

“Ahhh,” he moaned.

“Better?”

Clark blew out a long breath. “You bet.”

“Think you can sit up?”

“I know I can.”

Sara stood. “Once you’re upright, we’ll head for the sofa. I want to put some heat on that area.”

It wasn’t near the ordeal Sara suspected it would be, though again he was a big man. Still, he was agile and not at all cumbersome on his feet. That was what had made him an all-state athlete in school.

Within seconds after he was up, Clark was sitting on the couch with his head back and his eyes closed.

“Are you all right?” Sara asked, scrutinizing him closely.

His eyes popped open, and he squinted up at her. “You should know.”

“In that case, you’re welcome.”

“Patting yourself on the back, huh?”

“Self congratulations aren’t quite in order,” she finally said. “You still have to get up and walk out of here before I can do that.”

That mocking smile she also remembered softened his heretofore tense lips. Talk about sex appeal—he seemed to ooze it, a scar under his right eye, another trophy from his football days, heightening that appeal.

She couldn’t say that he was handsome. He wasn’t. His features were too irregular, yet somehow they worked, especially in conjunction with his unkempt sandy-colored hair, great physique, tanned skin and brilliant blue eyes. They were all undeniable pluses. With those, a man’s face didn’t have to be perfect.

Suddenly Sara felt self-conscious, thinking how awful she must look, only to jerk herself back in hand. It didn’t matter how she looked. He was a onetime patient—nothing more, nothing less. “Hold still while I get the heating pad.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m afraid to move.”

“Don’t be.” Sara’s lips twitched. “We can do it all over again, you know.”

“I’ll pass,” he said tightly.

She turned and walked toward her makeshift office. When she reached the room, her heart was beating far faster than it should have been. Damn!

Not bad, not bad at all, Clark thought as he watched Sara make her way out of the room, at least not from the back. If nothing else, her derriere was intriguing, moving in perfect rhythm with her every step. Yet she was uptight, except when she’d had her hands on him, he corrected himself.

He jerked his gaze off her and let a few expletives fly. What the hell was wrong with him? He knew, though he hated to admit it. There was touching and there was touching.

His insides vibrated just thinking about the sensations that had run rampant through his body everywhere she touched. He hadn’t been lying, no siree, when he’d said she had magic fingers.

He wondered what they would feel like on another part of his body. He swore, his face tightening as if he had lockjaw. Thinking of her in terms of sex was the last thing he needed. It was bad enough that he’d had to come to her for treatment, in light of why he was in town.

On the other hand, he couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Because of who she was, she had saved him from having either to return to Houston or go to the hospital in Lufkin. Once she put the heat to his back, he was convinced he’d be as good as new. Oh, he’d be sore for a few days, unable to brand any cattle, but he could live without that.

Besides, he hadn’t come to town to play with his cows. He’d come to land a coup that would make him rich. He wasn’t about to let anything mess that up, certainly not his libido.

Yet when Sara walked back into the room, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. What galled him was the fact that she wasn’t even conventionally pretty.

She wasn’t homely, either.

Because her face was devoid of makeup, he could see her great bone structure—high cheekbones and wide-set green eyes. Her skin was incredible, too—a milky white that appeared as smooth as a baby’s butt.

Her hair was an odd color, somewhere between auburn and light chocolate, which added to her allure. She wore it in a short, straight style that accented her long neck.

But it was her body that was the attention grabber. Although extremely slender and tall, she had more than ample breasts, breasts that even her loose-fitting caftan couldn’t hide. He wished he could see her waist; he’d bet his hands would fit around it.

Still, she wasn’t the type of woman he had ever been attracted to. So why the sudden fixation with her? he asked himself, but got no answer.

Feeling desperate to elevate his thoughts to the impersonal level, Clark blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “How much do I owe you?”

She stiffened visibly. “Nothing at the moment. I suggest you come for another treatment, but in my office.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You really think that’s necessary?”

“Absolutely.” She paused, giving him a cool, pointed look. “Unless you want your back to go out again.”

“You know better than that,” he muttered crossly. But he dreaded another session because her magic hands messed with his mind.

“Wise man.”

“Whatever the doctor says.”

Her professional facade didn’t slip one iota. “Since that’s settled, let’s get this heating pad behind you so it can get to work.”

She plugged it in near where he was sitting, then placed it behind his back. Although she had been close to him earlier, he’d been in too much pain to notice how fresh and sweet she smelled. Now her scent hit him in the face like a slap. He sucked in his breath and held it.

She stepped back and peered down at him. “Are you in pain again?”

“Uh, no,” he said, turning away, unable to meet her eyes, especially with his manhood rallying around his thoughts.

“Would you care for coffee or something else to drink?” Her tone was polite but emotionless.

“Uh, no, thanks.”

Sara sat in the chair adjacent to him, and for a moment an uneasy silence fell between them. It was one of the few times he had ever been at a loss for words. But then, he’d never been in quite such a precarious situation.

He tried to concentrate on her homey but tastefully decorated home while the heat seeped into his back, but he couldn’t. He was too conscious of her.

“Do you mind me asking what brings you back to River Oaks?”

“My ranch,” he said off the top of his head, then kicked himself mentally. Why the hell didn’t he tell her the truth?

She gave him a disapproving look, which raised his ire and his curiosity.

“I was hoping you’d come to see about your aunt.”

That flat statement tightened his gut, as well as the noose around his neck. “That, too, of course.”

“She’s a sweetheart, you know? I see her almost every day when I visit my mother, who’s also in the nursing home.”

“I appreciate that a lot.” Tell her, dammit. But the words still wouldn’t come. They stuck in his throat.

“She would appreciate seeing you a lot more.”

While her criticism was wrapped in soft words, he felt the sting nonetheless, a feeling he didn’t like. “Look, I’ve intruded enough on your time. It’s late, and I know you have to work tomorrow.”

“That I do.”

Blessedly, he got to his feet without mishap. “Thanks again for everything. I feel like a heel for—”

Sara held up her hand, stopping his flow of words. “Forget it. You’re not the first to appear on my doorstep at an ungodly hour, nor will you be the last.”

“At least you’re a good sport about it.”

She shrugged. “I consider that part of my job.”

He stared at her a long moment, trying to figure out what was really going on behind those lovely green eyes. Though she met his gaze, he learned nothing. The woman was one cool cookie who either had his number or didn’t didn’t give a damn. Maybe she disliked men in general, or just him in specific.

If the latter was the case, then he was in deep trouble. Somehow he had to figure out a way to do some damage control. But before he could say anything else, she had reached the door and had it open.

“Good night, Clark Garrison. It was nice seeing you again.”

He didn’t believe that for a second. “Same here, Dr. Wilson,” he said, walking out the door.

Once outside he cursed a blue streak.

Three

“You old son of a gun, how’ve you been?”

Clark slapped his foreman, Joe Hanover, on the arm while pumping his hand.

Joe gave him a wide grin that exposed the gaping hole in front where two permanent teeth should’ve been. The remaining teeth were nicotine coated, as Joe smoked like a chimney on the coldest of winter days.

Even so, his health was good, so good that to Clark’s knowledge he’d never missed a day’s work. But with Joe, looks could be deceiving.

Though short and wiry, his foreman was as tough as the cowhide he took care of on a daily basis. In addition, he could do most anything with his hands from plumbing to carpentry work.

Clark shuddered to think of what he would do without his foreman. If nothing else, Joe was invaluable because Clark was rarely able to get to the ranch. He depended sorely on Joe to keep things up and running.

“I’m tolerable,” Joe finally responded, following several deep drags on a cigarette before dropping, then crushing it with a scuff-toed boot. “I sure as hell wasn’t expecting you anytime soon.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be here, either. I stayed at Zelma’s place in town last night and thought I’d stop in this morning for a look around the ranch.”

Joe shoved the brim of his soiled hat back. “So, what’s up?”

“Business, actually.”

“Well, whatever, I’m shore glad to see you, ’cept you don’t look so good.”

“I had a bad night. The old back nailed me.”

“Man, that’s too bad.”

Clark’s mouth curved down. “Yeah, it is. And it’s something I’m going to have to learn to live with.”

Joe merely shook his head.

Clark turned away, his eyes roaming over his treasured domain, taking in pastureland as far as the eye could see, all dotted with cattle. Then he turned and noticed the ranch house sitting atop a hill.

The white paint that covered it sparkled in the morning sunlight. The last time he’d taken a vacation, he and Joe had made some much needed repairs to the rambling old house, making it livable, if not cozy.

“You stayin’ for a while?” Joe asked.

“I’m not sure. Right now, though, I have to go, but I’ll be back later.”

Joe waved his hand. “I’ll be here. I’m starting to brand that new herd we got last week.”

“Again, I sure appreciate you taking care of that for me,” Clark said, hearing the longing in his own voice.

A friend from Lufkin had called and said he was selling off his herd and had wanted to know if he was interested. Clark had said yes without hesitation. But he’d been unable to get away; too much was going on. Of course he’d called Joe, who had said, No sweat, boss.

Apparently, it hadn’t been any sweat, as the new cattle were chomping on his grass with the same vengeance as hogs on slop. Clark felt envious of Joe and his relatively uncomplicated life.

Hell, he’d like to be dressed in his grubs the same as Joe and work with him, tagging the cattle with the Garrison Ranch brand.

One of these days, Clark told himself.

“Look, you don’t have to thank me,” Joe said. “I’m just doing the job I love.”

Clark smiled, then slapped him on the shoulder again. “Just don’t ever quit on me.”

“I’d be a crazy man to do that.” Joe grinned. “Hell, you pay too much.”

Clark laughed. “I’ll see you later.”

Once Clark was back in his utility vehicle, he took one more look around the place, sighed, then drove off. When he’d awakened earlier that morning, he’d been afraid to move for fear his back would freeze up on him again.

It hadn’t, thanks to the doc with the magic fingers. Thoughts of Sara and the evening before had jumped to the front of his mind in vivid detail, and he’d groaned. He couldn’t afford emotionally or monetarily to think about Sara Wilson in any capacity other than that of a doctor and a businesswoman. Yet the fact that she was part owner of the facility he was sent there to purchase had definitely rattled his cage.

Earlier that morning, instead of dwelling on the predicament he was in, he’d gotten out of bed, showered and, over several cups of coffee, had read the entire file concerning the facility and the owners. The information had been sketchy, but he wasn’t worried. All he needed to know was how to get the owners’ names on the dotted line of a sales contract.

With that uppermost in his mind, Clark had intended to head straight for the nursing facility, eager to scope it out. And with his aunt Zelma residing there, he had every right to be on hand and do all the snooping he wanted without raising any suspicion.

However, at the last minute, he’d decided to run by the ranch, eager to see that, as well. Now as he drove through the arched gates of Quiet Haven, to say he was impressed with what he saw would be an understatement.

This was indeed a prototype facility, one Norton and Associates just had to have. Excitement coursed through Clark as he parked the vehicle and got out. The outside, surrounded by gardens, both flower and vegetable, was awesome. When he walked inside, he pulled up short, equally impressed.

He hadn’t a clue whether it was Sara or the Merricks or both who were responsible for the building and the decor. No matter, it was damn well done. So far he hadn’t seen a nursing home that could equal this one, and he’d only stepped inside the front door.

To the right and left of the entryway were two spacious living areas with nice furniture and game tables. In both of the rooms, residents were milling about. Clark knew from the blueprint of the facility that it was comprised of three wings. First off, he needed to locate the unit where his aunt resided.

Suddenly he felt a tug on his arm, followed by a small voice saying, “Mister.”

Clark swung around to find a tiny lady with watery eyes staring up him. He smiled. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Do you know where I live?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t,” Clark said uneasily, not used to dealing with the residents themselves.

Her lower lip quivered.

“But I bet I can find out and take you home,” Clark said quickly, sensing she was about to burst into tears.

Her uneven features brightened. “Oh, thank you.”

Before he’d taken two steps, a nurse approached them. “Sir, are you a relative of Mrs. Mary’s?”

“No, I’m not,” Clark answered in a soft tone.

“I didn’t think so.” The nurse gave him a lame smile, then placed her arm around the lady’s shoulders. “Come on, Mary, I’ll take you to your room.”

Clark swallowed a hard sigh as he strode forward to the nurses’ station, where he asked directions to Zelma’s room. Once there, he found his aunt sitting in a chair sound asleep. He pulled another chair beside his aunt’s, but didn’t wake her, trying to come to grips with the change in her. She seemed to have shriveled up, nothing like the tall, strapping woman she used to be, who could and would take a belt to him whenever she thought necessary.

Considering he had turned into a responsible citizen, after all, he guessed she had done the right thing, though at the time he’d resented her.

“Aunt Zelma,” he whispered, shaking her gently on the arm.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared at him through glazed, empty eyes.

“It’s me, Sonny.”

“Sonny,” she repeated, then smiled.

“Yeah, Sonny, your nephew. Don’t you remember?”

She smiled again. “Do you like my dress?”

Clark’s heart lurched as he looked at what she was wearing. That was when he noticed she had on not one, but two dresses. He shook his head, thinking he couldn’t handle much more of this. “Uh, your dress is lovely.”

“Now, who are you?” Zelma asked before her head lobbed back and her eyes closed.

He patted her awkwardly on the arm, then watched helplessly while her chest moved up and down.

“Mrs. Gillispie, you’re going to be just fine.”

The woman’s round face stretched into a grin. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Doctor. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Sara smiled. “I’m just glad it was muscle spasms in your back and nothing more serious.”

“You can forget Dr. Sara taking any praise, Mrs. Gillispie. She’s not about to. There’s something in her makeup that forbids such a thing.”

Sara gave her nurse Rosa Foster one of her “looks,” but Rosa, as usual, paid her no heed.

“Don’t you agree?” Rosa asked the woman.

“I sure do, honey,” Mrs. Gillispie responded, her gaze steadfast on Sara. “But it doesn’t matter, we’ll sing her praises, anyway.”

“I just did my job like I do every day of the week, like any other chiropractor worth her salt does.”

Mrs. Gillispie had stepped into the cubicle to dress, but that didn’t stop her from commenting. “Well, I for one don’t know what River Oaks would do without you, especially the way these cattlemen and farmers around here are always pulling something out of whack.”

“Well, again, Mrs. Gillispie,” Sara said mildly, “I appreciate your loyalty If you have any more problems, give me a call.”

“You can count on that, Doctor.”

Once the woman had left the office, Rosa said, “Oh, by the way, Mrs. Gillispie was our last patient.”

Sara peered at her watch and noticed it was only four-thirty. She’d have time to visit her mother and get home before dark, which would be a rarity.

With it being early October, the days were shorter, so when she got a chance to leave early, she took it. Today was no exception.

“Thanks for the unexpected break,” she told Rosa.

“Do you ever regret coming back here?” Rosa’s eyes narrowed on her. “In Dallas you had a great place to live and a lucrative practice, not to mention all those single guys running loose.”

Sara didn’t hesitate. “No, absolutely not.”

“You’re indeed one in a million, my friend, because there’s nothing here for a lovely, single woman like you.”

“I’m not lovely, and I enjoy being single.”

“You are lovely and you have a dynamite body, which—”

“Enough, Rosa!”

Rosa’s pretty features sobered. “I hope I didn’t offend you. I know you have your mother and the home—”

“Hey, no offense taken. Forget it. I’ll see you tomorrow. Give your kiddos a hug for me.”

“Will do.”

Once in her office, Sara shut the door and took a deep breath. While she adored Rosa, who was invaluable in her dual role as nurse and office manager, she could be a handful at times. Yet Sara often envied that wild streak in Rosa, knowing she was far too much the other way—too quiet and too much a loner.

When she had left Dallas and returned to the small community outside of Lufkin, she had run into Rosa at the post office. They had caught up on old times, and before she’d gotten her stamps, Rosa had been hired.

Sara hadn’t regretted that impulsive decision, a rarity for her, and that had been three years ago. Her practice had grown steadily. Much of that growth was due to Rosa who told everyone about the clinic.

Still, it hadn’t grown enough. Sara wasn’t sure it ever would, at least not enough to enable her to pay off her huge bank note on the nursing facility in which she was part owner.

When she’d been knocking down that big salary in Dallas, meeting the note hadn’t been a problem. But now her situation was different.

Sara frowned, trying to steer her thoughts in another direction. She didn’t want to think about that burden. It was much too depressing and frightening to dwell on how she was going to juggle her finances each month to meet her obligations.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Sara removed her white coat and hung it up. Then grabbing her purse, she dashed out the back door.

Four

Sara stopped and perused her surroundings. Due to certain state guidelines, Quiet Haven had been designed for function, not beauty. But the grounds were a different matter altogether. The landscaping, including flower gardens filled with seasonal annuals of all colors, sizes and shapes, was breathtaking.

Sara found herself actually holding her breath as her eyes focused on a huge bed of pansies. Their bright, multicolored faces seemed to be staring right at her.

Realizing she was wasting time, Sara shifted her Camry in gear once again and drove around to the back, parked and walked inside where she was once again filled with pride. To think this upscale facility, consisting of three wings all under one roof—skilled nursing which included Alzheimer’s patients, regular residents and assisted-living efficiency apartments—was part hers.

Though Quiet Haven was already five years old, it had the appearance of just having opened. That was due to the way it was run, something Sara and her partners were in total agreement about. Cleanliness and quality care was their motto.

The personal and financial sacrifices she had made in order to become an owner were well worth it, more so now, since this was where her mother would likely live out the rest of her life.

With thoughts of Katherine in mind, Sara increased her pace and headed toward her mother’s large corner room in the assisted-living wing. As she passed down the carpeted hall, she saw several women with canes and walkers. She smiled and spoke a few words to each before moving on.

Finally reaching her mother’s door, Sara opened it. Katherine was sitting in her favorite rocker, facing the garden.

“Mamma.”

Katherine Wilson swiveled, and when she saw her daughter a smile brightened her face. “Hi, darling. Come in.”

Sara crossed to her mother’s side, leaned over and kissed a rouged cheek, then eased into an adjacent chair. “So, how was your day? Any pain in the old hip?”

“Not too bad.”

Sara sighed. “You wouldn’t tell me if the pain was excruciating.”

“Now, now, you know better than that,” Katherine admonished in a soft, gentle tone.

Sara grabbed a fragile blue-veined hand and held it. If she had any regrets, it was where her mother was concerned. The reason she had left Dallas in the first place was to take care of Katherine after she fell and broke a hip.

However, when her mother was released from the rehab unit at the hospital, she refused to live with Sara or let anyone live with her. Much to Sara’s chagrin, it was Katherine’s choice to move into Quiet Haven. Even her younger sister Alice, who lived in St. Louis with her family, hadn’t been able to persuade her mother to change her mind.

So far Katherine seemed to have no regrets. And while Sara would’ve preferred to have had things her way, she had learned to respect, if not accept, her mother’s desire for independence.

“How are you today, my dear?” Katherine asked in her soft voice.

“Busy.”

“That’s wonderful.”

Sara squeezed her mother’s hand, thinking what an attractive woman she still was, even though she was in her late sixties. Like her, Katherine was tall but with a much stouter frame that was now slightly bent from osteoporosis. Still, her hair was thick and a lush color of gray that matched her eyes.

While she might look weak and fragile, she wasn’t. She was headstrong to a fault, a fact Sara had difficulty with as Katherine was her underpinnings; her daddy having died of a heart attack years earlier. Because Alice lived so far away, it sometimes seemed as if she didn’t have a sister, that it was just her and her mother.

“Why don’t you have supper with me?” Katherine’s eyes held a teasing glint. “We’re having lasagna.”

Sara wrinkled her nose. “My least favorite, which you well know.”

“Well, you can’t blame me for trying. It certainly wouldn’t hurt you to put some meat on those thin bones.”

“Don’t you start. Rosa’s already been on my case today.”

“About what?”

“Oh, the usual,” Sara hedged, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. While her mother’s body was failing, her mind was as sharp as ever.

“She worries about you being alone just like I do.”

“Now, Mother, don’t start. I’m fine the way I am.”

“That’s absurd. You don’t have a life. All you do is tend to the sick and afflicted both at the office and here.”

Sara laughed.

“It’s not funny, especially when the only man in your life is older than your mother and a codger to boot.”

“Why, Mother, I can’t believe you’re talking about Uncle Newt like that, especially someone who’s been and still is a lifelong friend.”

Newton Frazier was a retired chiropractor who had become her mentor and whom she visited on a regular basis.

“That’s the problem. He’s my friend and shouldn’t be yours. Besides, he’s not a good influence on you.”

Sara laughed and shook her head. “That makes absolutely no sense. If it weren’t for Uncle Newt, I wouldn’t have this practice and you know it.”

“You’re right, of course, but you need to be around young people, not us old folks all the time.”

“You let me worry about that, okay? Besides, I’m trying to convince Newt to move here. He’s getting too old and much too feeble to live alone.”

Her mother gave an unladylike snort. “Good luck. His head’s as hard as yours.”

Sara hid her smile. “Look, I’m happy with my life the way it is. So give me a break. Now, about my sister, have you heard from her lately?”

“As a matter of fact, I got a letter today.”

“How are things with them?”

Katherine suddenly looked troubled. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I sense all is not well between her and Dennis.”

“That’s nothing new. You know Alice—if there isn’t a crisis in the making, she’s not happy.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say.”

Sara shrugged. “It’s the truth. Anyhow, if there is trouble, they’ll straighten it out. They always do.”

“You’re right. It’s just that I was hoping she and the kids could pay us a visit.”

“Maybe they can,” Sara said, dropping her mother’s hand and rising to her feet. “I have to run, Mamma.”

“But, honey, you just got here.”

Sara leaned over and grazed Katherine’s cheek with her lips. “I know, but I have some errands to run.”

“Of course you do, darling. Don’t pay any attention to this selfish old woman.”

“You may be old, but you’re not selfish,” Sara returned in a teasing voice.

“Are you all right?”

Sara was taken aback by the sudden and unexpected question. “Why do you ask?”

Katherine’s forehead wrinkled into a frown. “I don’t know, really. You just look tired, as if you didn’t sleep.”

Sara hadn’t, but she didn’t intend to tell her mother that. Her encounter with Clark Garrison had preyed on her mind until the wee hours of the morning. She wondered how he’d fared this morning, if his back remained in place. If not, she was sure she’d know soon enough.

“I’m okay, Mamma. You worry too much.”

“You need a man friend.”

“Oops, now I know it’s time to go.”

“Sorry,” Katherine said.

“No, you’re not, but I guess that’s why I love you.”

Katherine gestured with her hand. “Go on, skedaddle, get out of here.”

Sara was still shaking her head when she passed by Zelma’s room only to stop dead in her tracks and blink. As if he sensed he was being watched, Clark looked toward the door. When he saw her, he stood and walked toward her.

“You look surprised,” he said without preamble.

“I am.”

His mouth tensed. “I told you I came to see my aunt.”

“So you did.”

“She doesn’t seem to be doing all that well.”

“She hasn’t for a long time now.”

He flushed, which meant her barb had hit its mark.

“Look, I know how you feel about me, but—”

“I don’t think you do,” Sara said flatly.

“You know what I meant.”

Though he tried to temper his tone, Sara picked up on his suppressed impatience and anger. It was clear he was out of his element here, and she wasn’t helping any. But he had neglected his aunt, and to her way of thinking, there was no excuse for that. She hadn’t mollycoddled him last night, and she wasn’t about to start now.

“Aren’t you going to ask about my back?”

Sara gave a start at the sudden change in his voice. It seemed lower and somewhat more conciliatory, if not on the intimate side.

Her face suffused with color. “The fact that you’re up and about answers that.”

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