Macy caught sight of Alex in the kitchen window, and her breath caught in her throat. Did that man ever have a moment when he didn’t look so darn handsome?

He was obviously clowning around as he helped get supper ready. Even through two windows and across two yards, she could see his glorious smile.

Her heart melted as she watched the domestic scene. She swallowed, her throat tight with emotion. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if—?

“Mama, when are we gonna have supper?” a little voice said. “I’m starving.”

Macy guiltily jerked her gaze from the window. How long had she been standing there staring at Alex and daydreaming like a schoolgirl, when she should have been thinking about her son’s needs?

Could she be falling in love with Alex Blocker all over again?

Or had she never stopped…?

Dear Reader,

It’s that time of the year again. Pink candy hearts and red roses abound as we celebrate that most amorous of holidays, St. Valentine’s Day. Revel in this month’s offerings as we continue to celebrate Harlequin American Romance’s yearlong 20th Anniversary.

Last month we launched our six-book MILLIONAIRE, MONTANA continuity series with the first delightful story about a small Montana town whose residents win a forty-million-dollar lottery jackpot. Now we bring you the second title in the series, Big-Bucks Bachelor, by Leah Vale, in which a handsome veterinarian gets more than he bargained for when he asks his plain-Jane partner to become his fake fiancée.

Also in February, Bonnie Gardner brings you The Sergeant’s Secret Son. In this emotional story, passions flare all over again between former lovers as they work to rebuild their tornado-ravaged hometown, but the heroine is hiding a small secret—their child! Next, Victoria Chancellor delivers a great read with The Prince’s Texas Bride, the second book in her duo A ROYAL TWIST, where a bachelor prince’s night of passion with a beautiful waitress results in a royal heir on the way and a marriage proposal. And a trip to Las Vegas leads to a pretend engagement in Leandra Logan’s Wedding Roulette.

Enjoy this month’s offerings, and be sure to return each and every month to Harlequin American Romance!

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

The Sergeant’s Secret Son

Bonnie Gardner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To Mud as always.

To my bosom buddy Cassandra Woods for helping me keep my cultural biases in line.

To Doctors Brantley, Dang and Olive for making it possible for me to write this book.

And last but not least, to all the combat controllers and the loved ones who love them, not because of the job, but in spite of it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bonnie Gardner has finally figured out what she wants to do when she grows up. After a varied career that included such jobs as switchboard operator, draftsman and exercise instructor, she went back to college and became an English teacher. As a teacher, she took a course on how to teach writing to high school students and caught the bug herself.

She lives in northern Alabama with her husband of over thirty years, her own military hero. After following him around from air force base to air force base, she has finally gotten to settle down. They have two grown sons, one of whom is now serving in the air force. She loves to read, cook, garden and of course, write.

She would love to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 442, Meridianville, AL 35759.

Books by Bonnie Gardner

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

876—UNCLE SARGE

911—SGT. BILLY’S BRIDE

958—THE SERGEANT’S SECRET SON

Contents

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

Impatient because the situation was urgent, Dr. Macy Jackson made her way slowly and laboriously though the dark and ravaged streets of Lyndonville, South Carolina. She was horrified at the damage the tornado had done, and as she approached the epicenter of the devastation, she steeled herself for what else she might discover.

The streets were strewn with fallen trees and branches and other debris she could only guess about. Many of the roads were impassable, and she’d had difficulty making her way through. Every time she’d found one clear street, it would lead to another dead end. The destruction she encountered in the beams of her headlights was chilling.

And she hadn’t yet reached the site of the real disaster.

Finally, she reached Faron’s Trailer Park, which had sustained a direct hit from the tornado, and her heart broke at the sight she found. In the flickering lightning from the departing storm, she could see that trailers were overturned, twisted and flattened like tin cans for the recycling bin. Fires raged from broken gas tanks, and firefighters were doing what they could to put them out. How could anyone have survived this?

A siren blipped as Macy climbed out of her car and as the damp air hit her face, she felt the cold and the rain, and she smelled the acrid odor of fire and fear. She looked to where a sheriff’s department cruiser flashed its blue lights. In the meager illumination of the headlights, Macy could see several victims huddling or stretched out on the littered ground.

She felt a flicker of unease as she approached the cruiser, then stood bathed in the flashing blue light, but she shook it away. Maybe it was a throwback to her childhood when a black child was always under suspicion, even one as light-skinned as she. Then her attention was drawn back to the devastation.

Spotlighted by the occasional flicker of lightning and flames, a huge man, the color of polished mahogany, bare-chested, magnificently muscled, and wet in the sporadic rain, ripped at the torn and shredded metal of what was once a mobile home. The only part of him that didn’t seem to be shining in the flickering light was his short hair. In the red-and-blue glow of the fires and police lights, he looked almost diabolic, but Macy sensed that he was one of the good guys. As Macy watched, the man pulled a small bundle from the shredded mess.

Something, she didn’t know what, had drawn her attention to the powerful man working so hard in the rubble. “Who is that?” Macy asked the sheriff’s deputy, as the huge man waded purposefully through the debris carrying what looked like a pile of rags.

“Don’t know,” the deputy said. “Claimed he’d had rescue and first-aid training, and at the time, he was all we had.”

“Thank goodness he was here to help,” Macy said as she leaned over the first of her patients. It looked as though she would have a long night’s work ahead of her.

“I think this is the last victim from the trailers,” a deep voice grunted as he lowered a trembling and rain-soaked little girl to the ground beside Macy.

Macy cast a startled sideways glance at the speaker and discovered the man she’d been admiring was none other than Alex Blocker. The man she had hoped she’d never see again, though she’d longed for him in her dreams, loomed, broad-shouldered and capable, above her. Now she knew why she’d been so attracted to him. This was the man with whom she’d made both the worst and the best mistake of her life.

“I’ve had enough first-aid training that I can help out with triage,” he said tersely as he tried to make the child comfortable on the wet, cold ground. “Her name is Leticia. She’s probably all right. She’s wet and cold and scared, but I didn’t find any obvious trauma.”

He didn’t act as though he recognized her, but then, maybe he was feeling just as awkward about this meeting as she was. Deciding to plunge right in, Macy took the first step. “Thank you, Alex,” she said, looking into his deep, dark brown eyes.

Suddenly recognition dawned in his eyes, and his face lit up for a brief instant. Then the cool, calm, rescuer facade returned. “Hello, Macy,” he said slowly. “I see you finally made it through medical school.”

“Yes.” Macy nodded. “I’d love to catch up, but we’ve got a long night ahead of us, and Leticia needs attention now. She might have internal injuries,” she said, under her breath so that only Alex could hear. “We’ll have to watch her.” She looked around. “Where are her parents?”

Alex jerked his head in the direction of a distraught woman huddled over a mound covered by a tattered sheet. “That’s her folks. I think you can tell what the sheet is covering without me having to spell it out in front of the k-i-d. She’s traumatized enough as it is.”

Macy swallowed a lump in her throat when she saw the debris and the devastation. She’d known there would be casualties, but she’d hoped that there would be no deaths. Now that her worst fears had been realized, she could do nothing but help the living.

Macy had never met Leticia Haley’s father, but she knew both Leticia and her mother from her clinic. Macy swallowed again and averted her eyes. As much as she was saddened by Mr. Haley’s death, she didn’t have time to deal with that now.

She drew in a deep breath and turned to Alex.

He hunkered down beside her. “The worst cases are closest to the cruiser. I figured you’d need more light to attend to them.”

“Good thinking,” Macy said without taking her eyes, filled with unshed tears, off her patient. Although she wanted to stop and look at Alex, his broad chest glistening with rain and perspiration, she knew that Leticia needed her full attention. She gave the child a reassuring smile.

Alex touched Macy’s face and turned her chin up to look at him. He drew her into his arms and folded her into an embrace. How warm and gentle Alex’s touch was, even with hands that were hard and calloused, and how much Macy needed it. A tingle of awareness shuddered through her as Alex inclined his head toward the headlights focused on the victims.

“We’ll get through this,” he said gently, letting her go. Then he stepped away and started clearing more debris to make an open area. He glanced over his shoulder. “So Medevac can land,” he explained, then went back to work.

Macy glanced back at him once more; she longed to watch the play of Alex’s muscles as he worked, but she directed her attention to the most seriously injured. At least, most of her attention. It was hard not to look at Alex when all she wanted was to drink in the sight of him after all those years.

Even if he could mean big trouble, Macy couldn’t help wondering what might have been. No, she had work to do now. Thinking or worrying about Alex would have to wait. Besides, he’d made it perfectly clear five years ago that he was not interested in her.

If he had been, five years would not have passed before she saw him again.

But he had been right on the money with all his triage decisions, Macy realized with appreciation as she looked over her patients. There were only two serious cases: a head trauma and a possible spinal-cord injury. She did what she could to stabilize them until they could be evacuated to hospitals in Florence or Columbia. She just hoped that more help would get there soon.

The remaining victims needed splints and bandaging, and some only needed shelter and something warm to drink. She could probably treat them at the clinic, she thought. Lord, she didn’t know if she still had a clinic in the aftermath of the storm.

“Anybody know if the clinic made it through?” she asked, dreading what she might learn.

No one had an answer.

Another cruiser pulled up. Sheriff MacEachern left the engine running and the lights on, but he stepped out of the car. He scanned the devastation, ducking as a propane tank from a gas grill exploded on the other side of the trailer park, adding more orange light to the hellish scene. Then he moved over to Macy. “A medical evacuation team is on its way. It shouldn’t be long,” he said, squatting to be closer to where Macy knelt over one of her patients.

“How long?” Macy demanded, her heart still pounding like a wild drum solo from the exploding tank. “I have two here that need more specialized treatment than I can give. The rest I can treat at the clinic.” She glanced up at the sheriff. “Assuming I still have a clinic.”

“Clinic’s fine,” the sheriff assured her. “Some minor damage, but the generator is on, and the equipment is functioning. One of your nurses is there. She’s started giving first aid to walk-ins. I reckon we’ll have the roads cleared between here and there by the time the chopper makes it.”

As if to underscore the sheriff’s statement, a helicopter swooped out of the roiling clouds. The reassuring whump of the helicopter’s rotors was music to Macy’s ears. MacEachern grinned. “See? The cavalry to the rescue.”

Macy issued a silent prayer of thanks for the helicopter’s arrival. “Amen to that,” she said over the roar of the approaching helicopter. She turned back to her patient. It was hard to monitor a comatose patient with no equipment, so the helicopter was a chariot of hope sent from heaven.

Macy watched in amazement as Alex waved the chopper in with flashlights. He seemed to actually know what he was doing.

Damp air swirled around them, stirring up the water from puddles and drenching everyone with the chilly spray. Macy shivered.

The sheriff, still in crouch position, moved away toward the helicopter as it settled onto the open space that Alex had cleared.

“As soon as we get these two priorities attended to, I’d like to try to move this operation to the clinic,” Macy said to no one in particular. Then she was too busy to worry about what the sheriff or Alex were doing.

“WELCOME HOME, Block,” Air Force Senior Master Sergeant Alex Blocker muttered to himself as he watched the chopper lift off with the most badly injured of Macy Jackson’s patients.

He’d dreaded coming home to Lyndonville, and so far, his homecoming hadn’t been all that great. That was an understatement! He’d barely gotten settled into the spare room at Gramma’s house when the tornado sirens had gone off. He’d hustled Gramma Willadean into her storm cellar, and they’d waited for the all-clear signal. As soon as he’d heard it, he’d taken off to see where he could help.

He was combining leave with an official trip to interview for a recruiting position in Florence, South Carolina. While he was here, he would attend Willadean Blocker’s seventy-fifth birthday celebration. He had mixed emotions about returning to Lyndonville, the town he’d seen as a dead end and had left as soon as he was old enough. But now it looked as if life were throwing him a curve. If he took that job in Florence, he’d be almost next door to Lyndonville.

Though the docs had patched up the knee he’d torn while saving the life of one of his teammates—Ski Warsinski’s parachute had malfunctioned at three thousand feet over Hurlburt Field, Florida—it was no longer sound enough for him to land on in a parachute jump. Jumping had been a big part of his job as a member of Silver team, one of the elite special operations branches of his combat control squadron. He’d worked hard to be the best of the best, and now that was over. He could take the recruiting position long enough to retire with a pension, or he could leave the air force now and blow everything he’d worked for.

If you asked him, it wasn’t much of a choice.

Still, he had more important things to think about now. There was a helluva mess to clean up here in Lyndonville. He glanced over to where Macy was herding some of her patients to her car. Just looking at her had stirred up old emotions and passions, and he was glad that it was dark and he was alone at the moment.

He pushed a memory of twisted sheets and hot sweaty bodies out of his mind and turned back to the business of cleaning up the storm damage.

Macy turned, the car door open, and directed a tentative wave toward him. Block mustered a tired smile that was probably more of a grimace, and waved back. Then Macy got into the car and drove away.

IT SEEMED as if days had passed, but it had only been hours of grueling labor. Block was glad for the work. With a borrowed chainsaw, he had cleared a forest of fallen tree limbs from roads, and now cars and trucks had begun to pass by slowly.

Block stopped for a break. As warm as he had been while he was working, the chilly autumn breeze from the encroaching cold front cooled his heated bare skin and caused it to break out in gooseflesh. He gulped down a soda and then helped himself to hot coffee that had miraculously appeared as neighbor after neighbor had come out of their homes or shelters and had set about making the world right again.

Or as close as it could get, considering.

He leaned against his rented SUV parked in front of a drugstore in a little strip mall and looked around, wondering where he could help next. There was still too much devastation and it was too long until dawn for him to think about going back to Gramma’s. And there was still lots of work remaining.

Now that he’d slowed down, Block realized that he was dead tired. He’d spent enough sleepless nights as a combat controller to be used to them, but he figured some of the volunteers, people like Macy, weren’t.

He wondered briefly how Macy was doing in her clinic and how many patients she must be seeing, but tried to push her out of his thoughts. For now, there was plenty for him to do—even if his bum leg was starting to hurt like hell.

He guessed he’d have plenty of time to baby his sore knee soon enough: either as an unemployed civilian or as a recruiter. Didn’t much matter which. Wasn’t much occasion for either one of those to be called out in the middle of the night and work for days on end without sleep. Maybe getting medicaled out of combat control wasn’t such a bad deal after all.

No, it was a terrible deal. Everything he’d strived to achieve was tied up in being a combat controller. He’d worked his tail off to be one of the best. Even though he’d managed to earn a degree in aviation management, he was too damned old to have to start back at the bottom at some other job. And there wasn’t an airport here, anyway.

“Hey, is that your SUV?”

He looked up, startled that he’d been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the man come up to him. “Yeah. It’s mine.”

“Do you know where Doc Jackson’s clinic is?”

Block shook his head. “But I could find it.”

“Doc Jackson needs some supplies over there, and I don’t have a way to get to her.” The man nodded toward a car half-buried under the branches of a fallen tree and shrugged.

“I can get the stuff to Dr. Jackson,” Block allowed.

The man grinned wider than a jack-o’-lantern. “Oh man, you are a lifesaver. You know where old Doc Cranston’s office was?”

Block nodded. They’d never been able to afford to go to Dr. Cranston, but everybody in Lyndonville knew where his office was.

“Let me get a dry shirt out of my car, and I’ll be glad to ferry your supplies over.”

While Block wiped himself off with the wet shirt, the man scurried inside. Soon he returned with several boxes full of supplies.

Block opened the back hatch and pulled out a dry air force sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. Then he turned to the man.

Taking the boxes, Block said, “I’m sure Dr. Jackson will appreciate this stuff.”

And he’d appreciate another chance to see Macy.

RUEING THE FACT that she’d sent her nurse home to be with her own family during a break in the action, Macy leaned back in the swivel chair behind the reception counter. She was so tired she could barely see straight. Every time she thought she had seen the end of the stream of injured coming into the clinic, another surge of patients would find its way to her. For the moment, the waiting room was empty and Macy took advantage of the calm. She closed her eyes, propped her feet up on a stool and tried to will herself another ration of energy.

Apparently, sheer will wasn’t enough.

The door creaked open, but Macy was too fatigued to jump up. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” she murmured wearily as she rubbed her tired eyes.

Warm strong hands massaged her shoulders, and as startled as she was to find them there, Macy couldn’t resist the respite from her aches and pains. She arched her back closer to the reviving action of the unknown hands. “I don’t know who you are, but if you’re single, will you marry me?” she murmured as she melted beneath the man’s strong fingers.

“Well, that’s the best offer I’ve had all night.”

Macy jerked away from the wonderful strong hands. “Alex?” she squeaked. “What are you doing here?”

“A guy from the drugstore over near Faron’s Trailer Park sent me with a load of supplies.”

“So you volunteered?” she asked dryly as she tried to compose herself. She poked several strands of runaway hair back behind her ears and smoothed the front of her white lab coat. Alex was here in beautiful, glorious, living color. Too bad he’d covered those magnificent muscles with a sweatshirt. A surge of adrenaline rushed through her—or maybe it was lust—and Macy found herself gaining her second wind.

“No, I was drafted.”

She tried to conceal her confused emotions from Alex as she lowered her feet from the stool and blinked up at him.

Her heart was racing, and Macy heard a roaring in her ears. She hoped it was from exhaustion and not a sexual reaction to Alex Blocker standing there in her clinic. No, that couldn’t be. Macy Jackson didn’t have reactions like that. And had she really asked him to marry her? She almost groaned with embarrassment.

Everybody knew that Macy had more important things to do with her life than fool around with men. There had been that one exception five years ago with Alex. And she didn’t like thinking about it most of the time.

With Alex back in town, she’d have a hard time forgetting.

While she’d been woolgathering, Alex had gone back outside and retrieved the supplies. He reappeared in the doorway. “This stuff is heavy. Where do you want me to put it?”

Macy felt her face grow warm. Here she was having hot flashes about Alex, and he was standing there with his arms full of boxes. “I’m sorry,” she finally managed. “I’m so tired tonight, I can barely think.” It was a better excuse than the real one.

She was going to have to come to terms with their one little lapse from reality five years ago when she’d allowed herself to think they might have started something. No, she had to keep her mind on the task at hand. She’d have plenty of time to revisit her one night with Alex later.

She just wished it hadn’t happened. No, she didn’t. For one very wonderful thing had come out of that. And now that Alex was here, she was going to have to deal with the results of that night. And so was Alex, even if he didn’t know about it. Yet.

She pushed herself up from the chair. “I guess I should see what you’ve got. We’re in a lull right now, but it won’t last long if the last few hours are any indication. I’d better get as much put away as I can before I get another flood of patients.”

“Just show me where.”

Trying to ignore the sparks of attraction practically snapping between them, Macy peered into the top box in Alex’s muscular arms. “Those look like first-aid supplies. I suppose I should leave them out right where I can get to them,” she said, thinking out loud. “Pretty much all my patients tonight have been broken bones and lacerations.” She showed Alex to one of the two examining rooms.

Alex lowered the boxes to the floor near the exam table. “You want me to divvy this stuff up so you’ll have some in each room?”

Why hadn’t she thought of that? Was she really that exhausted, or did Alex’s mere presence keep her from thinking clearly? It had to be a little of both. “That’s a great idea,” she finally said. Alex didn’t comment on her delayed response, but went straight to work.

Grateful that Alex was distracted from her for the moment, Macy turned to one of the other boxes. These, too, could be divided up between the two examining rooms. Trying to ignore Alex’s too-charismatic presence, she concentrated on putting everything away.

“I assume your place is okay,” Alex said, trying to ease the heavy blanket of tension that had settled over them, after they’d worked for a while. “I hear the new part of town where all the town houses and apartments are wasn’t in the tornado’s path.” He assumed that Macy had set up house in one of the new, upscale neighborhoods rather than in an old one.

“Everything’s fine. Some limbs and a few trees down, but the tornado missed us.” Macy had been chagrined to realize that, at first, she’d thought the damage in her neighborhood was terrible before she’d seen what was left of the trailer park.

Alex started to say something, but the clinic door swung open.

“Dr. Jackson, I need your help outside,” a middle-aged man shouted frantically. “My son is hurt. Bad.”

Macy hurried outside to find a woman hovering over a boy, his face white with pain, stretched out in the back of a battered pickup truck. A strong gust of wind whistled through the pines overhead, showering everyone with cold drops of water, and Macy shivered with the unexpected drenching. “We have to get him inside.”

She leaned over the side of the truck and spoke to the boy, not one of her regular patients.

Alex stepped up behind her. “Do you have a backboard?” he asked quietly, his warm breath sending shivers of delight skimming down Macy’s spine.

It surprised her that he seemed to know instinctively what she suspected. The boy could have a back injury, and any wrong move could cause the damage to be more severe. She had to think. “Yes, in the storage area.”

Alex turned to go get it, and Macy climbed into the bed of the truck to get a better look at her patient.

A quick examination showed that the backboard was probably not necessary, but it would make the boy more comfortable when they moved him inside.

The technician who usually helped with the portable X-ray machine hadn’t made it in, so she was going to have to do everything herself. At least Alex knew something about first aid. She’d enlist his help, as long as his presence wasn’t too distracting.

“I’m not going to be able to do much for him here,” Macy told the boy’s parents while she waited for Alex to return with the backboard. “But I can make him more comfortable until we can get him to the hospital in Florence.”

The man nodded, apparently relieved that something could be done. “What can I do?”

“When Alex gets back with the backboard you can help carry your son in. In the meantime, I’m going to try to call the hospital in Florence and see if they can send an ambulance out to pick him up. Otherwise, you may have to get him there yourself.”

For now, she would do what she could.

BLOCK WATCHED as the ambulance pulled out of the parking lot of the small clinic, and he glanced at Macy. She had to be dog tired. He could see in the slump of her shoulders that whatever reserve of energy she’d been operating with was long gone. Her face was drawn, and dark smudges rimmed her eyes. Her curly chestnut hair, once pinned into a tidy ball, had long since escaped from its constraints and tumbled loose and wild around her shoulders. She sagged against the doorjamb, and Block wondered if that was the only thing that kept her from collapsing.

“Come inside,” he said, taking her fine-boned hand and trying to forget the sparks he felt every time he touched her. Her fingers were cold, and her grip was weak.

She nodded, but seemed not to have the energy to speak as she followed him into the clinic.

“You’re limping,” she said, seeming to have suddenly come awake.

“No, I’m not.” Damn. He hadn’t wanted her to notice.

“Yes, you are. Come here. Let me see.”

Block blew out a long exasperated breath. The last thing he needed was to have her touching him, feeling him, setting him on fire. “It’s just an old injury that’s been slow to heal. And it always bothers me when it rains.”

“Then more reason that I should take a look at it,” she said, brooking no nonsense. “You could’ve reinjured it.”

“It healed the first time. It’ll heal again.”

“No, it won’t. Take off your pants,” she said in a whiskey-sour voice that would have seemed sultry in different circumstances.

“Excuse me?” Just listening to the innocent command in that come-hither voice had a part of his body that shouldn’t be awake standing at full attention.

“Oh, puh-lease. I can’t examine your leg if you don’t let me look at it. I’m fully familiar with male anatomy,” she said primly. “I won’t swoon.”

Yeah, but maybe he would, Block couldn’t help thinking. Finally realizing that he didn’t want to aggravate his injured knee further, he gave in. “I’ll just go in the examining room and get ready for you. Okay?”

“Fine. I’ll get the portable X-ray machine ready.” She turned and left him to undress.

Block kicked off his boots and pulled out of his wet jeans as quickly as he could. He looked around for one of those sheets they used as drapes in an exam room, found one, and wrapped it around him. He could care less if Macy looked at his leg, but he damned sure didn’t want her to see what happened to another part of his anatomy as soon as her fingers touched him.

And he’d thought the night had been long up until now….

Macy bustled back in, a professional look on her face. She arched an eyebrow as she saw the surgical scar left from when they’d put his knee back together. “When did this happen?” she asked as she pulled on latex gloves.

“Last summer. It’s why I’m here.” It was hard to think, much less talk with her gentle hands on his leg, but he forced himself to go on. “I’m supposed to interview for a job in Florence that doesn’t require jumping out of perfectly good airplanes.”

Macy probed the area around the still-red scar, and Block winced as she found a particularly tender spot.

“Does that hurt?”

“Like somebody jabbing a red-hot poker in my eye,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Sorry,” she muttered tersely. “I’ll need an X ray to be sure, but I think you’ve just overdone it. It doesn’t appear to have been reinjured.”

“Could have told you that.”

“Humor me, Alex. I am the doctor here.”

She went to the other room and returned quickly with a portable X-ray unit. He clenched his teeth tightly together while Macy situated him and took the pictures. It seemed to take forever for the films to develop, but finally, they were ready.

That done, she slapped the films on the viewing screen and looked at them carefully. “Looks like you were lucky. There’s no swelling and I see no evidence of any new injury. We’ll just bandage it and then you can go home to rest.”

Macy reached into one of the cabinets and returned with a rolled elastic bandage.

“I can do it myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m in charge here. You can do whatever you want with it as soon as you get home,” Macy said as she expertly wrapped his leg. “I want you to stay off this as much as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting and giving her a wicked grin. “I do thank you for fixing me up.”

Macy smiled. “No, you’ve been much more help to me than I’ve been to you. What can I do to thank you?”

A dozen sexy responses whizzed through his mind, but he swallowed them all. Except for one. “You don’t have to do anything, but…” Block answered huskily as another wave of desire surged through him. He glanced at her from lowered lids. Her chestnut hair tumbled around her face, and he longed to run his fingers through those enticing tendrils. Would they feel as silky as they looked? He drew in a deep, long breath. There was a way she could pay him back. Did he dare ask?

Block swallowed. “We could call it even with one little kiss,” he said. “You know, for old times’ sake.”

Chapter Two

Macy swallowed. How could he ask her that? She didn’t want to travel down that road again, but how could she resist? Wasn’t this what she’d been thinking about since the very instant she’d seen him through the smoke and the rain at the ravaged trailer park? She swallowed again, then moistened her lips.

Why not get it over with? She had to prove to herself that she was over Alex Blocker once and for all.

“All right,” Macy said slowly. “One kiss. And then I want you to go home and get some rest.”

Alex looked down at her, a wicked half smile on his face. He seemed to be taking his time collecting what she owed him. Macy tried not to squirm under his unrelenting gaze, but she couldn’t. She moistened her lips again. Why was her mouth so dry when her hands were so damp?

Finally, she could stand it no more. She stood on tiptoe and reached for him, circling her hands around his broad shoulders, then shifting them to his muscular neck. She took in a deep breath and drew him to her.

His kiss was tender, light as the morning dew, but suddenly Macy wanted more, and she didn’t know why. She pressed against him, trying to get closer, to feel his hard chest against her. Macy wasn’t sure who had taken the lead, but did it matter? She had what she’d dreamed of for five, long years: Alex in her arms again.

Without realizing it, Macy let out a low moan. Was it of pleasure or pain? She wanted this to go on forever, but she knew it had to stop. What if a patient came in? Still, she would let it go on as long as Alex wanted.

Suddenly Alex pulled away with a wrenching groan of his own. “We can’t do this,” he said thickly. “This isn’t the right place.”

Macy stepped farther away, her face burning with embarrassment.

Alex turned his back to her as he struggled to tug on wet jeans with the drape still wrapped around his middle. He zipped his pants, then sat on the metal stool to put on his boots. The drape slid to the floor. As he struggled with his wet laces, he finally said, “I have issues to deal with. The job, you, my knee…everything. It’s late. We’re both exhausted. It isn’t the right…

“Hell, I don’t know what it is.” He shrugged, raised his hands in a helpless gesture, then turned slowly to face her.

“Thank you for seeing to my knee. If you need some help with repairs to the clinic, let me know. I’ll be at my grandmother’s.” Then he turned quickly and made his way out into the night.

Macy listened until she heard his car start, and she peeked through the window as the red taillights disappeared around the corner. She wished that would be the last of it. That he’d go away for another five years or five hundred, but she knew he wouldn’t. As long as Alex was around, neither her emotions nor her secret were safe.

He might not know it yet, but he would probably know by tomorrow. He’d be seeing a lot of her. After all, she lived next door to his grandmother. And that was going to be an enormous problem.

ALL BLOCK wanted to do was to go to bed and sleep the rest of the night away, but as he drove through the darkened streets of Lyndonville, all he could think about was Macy. Of what could have been. What should have been. And he wondered why it wasn’t.

He remembered the way she used to follow him and her brother C.J. around like a lost puppy. She’d had a crush on him then. When he was sixteen and Macy was eleven, her puppy love or hero worship had been a pain in the butt.

But now he was thirty-six, and she was thirty-one. They were way beyond the age of puppy love, and the sexual energy that seemed to sizzle between them was a sure indication that Macy felt the same attraction, whether she wanted to or not. And after that night five years ago following C.J.’s funeral, there could be no doubt that they could have something good.

He’d never understood women, and maybe he never would, but he wished he could figure Macy out. If there was one woman he could find worth getting to know, Macy was the one. Why was she being so uptight with him? There was something odd about that…considering what they’d done five years ago.

Without realizing it, Block had made his way back to his grandmother’s house. The power around town was still off, but a hurricane lamp shone with warm welcome in Gramma’s front window. He shut off the engine, locked the car, and accepted the welcome light’s invitation to come inside.

“You be quiet, now, y’ hear,” his grandmother said in a hushed whisper as Block stepped through the door.

He looked around through the dim light and spotted her sitting in an old rocker in the darkened living room. “What are you still doing up?” he said in a stage whisper.

She held a finger to her lips. “Shhh,” she said and pointed to a small bundle wrapped in a quilt and sleeping on the couch. “You’ll wake him.”

“Who’s that?”

“Hush now. You just go on to bed. I’m waiting up for his momma, then I’ll be on to bed, too.”

“All right. I’ll have to confess I’m too tired to argue.”

Gramma made a shooing motion with her hands. “Now go on to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Block wondered about that last remark, but figured that Gramma had noticed him limping. Those old eyes were still sharp, and she didn’t miss much. Still, he was curious about the kid sleeping on the couch.

Why was the kid’s mother out this late at night? Especially considering the storm and the power outage.

He pulled out of his damp clothes, hung them over a chair and crawled into the too-soft bed.

Block would have thought that he’d drop right off, but sleep eluded him. As he lay there, he heard a car drive up and a door slam, then he heard the murmur of voices out in the living room. Block glanced at the clock. After four. The mother must have come to collect her child. He supposed she hadn’t been able to get back sooner because of the storm.

He heard the front door close, and he listened as his grandmother padded to bed. Whoever the woman was, she was gone, and she wasn’t his problem, anyway. The kid wasn’t his problem, either. He had to learn that he couldn’t solve every problem that crossed his path, even if he was used to being a take-charge man.

He rolled over and punched the pillow and tried again to sleep. But every time he closed his eyes he thought of Macy Jackson. And every time he saw her, his body reacted. All his adult life, he’d tried to move forward, to improve himself. And to him, coming back to Lyndonville was a step back.

But then, Macy Jackson was just another one of those things he’d always wanted and couldn’t have. That’s why he’d left her office tonight. Wasn’t any sense in prolonging the agony.

There had been so many things in Lyndonville that he’d wanted and couldn’t have. A future. A job. Respect. The town had held him back. It had killed his father because he hadn’t been able to pay for the antibiotic that could have cured him, and he hadn’t had a car to get him to one of the free clinics in Florence or Darlington.

It had nearly worn his mother down, physically and mentally as she struggled to clean other people’s houses and had so little in her own. Life in Lyndonville when he was a boy had been a constant struggle for food, for shoes, for anything that was worth anything. In his mind, the only way to move up in the world was to get out of Lyndonville, but Macy had chosen to stay.

She’d chosen to make her life here. She’d chosen to make Lyndonville better, and by doing so, she’d earned the respect of everyone. He’d seen it in the way the sheriff had treated her, and her patients, and…even he was a little bit in awe.

With that thought in mind, as the sky was beginning to lighten in the east, he drifted off to sleep.

MACY YAWNED and let herself into her own little house, a mirror twin to Willadean Blocker’s. She’d inherited it from her Aunt Earnestine, who’d raised her and her two brothers after her mother had died in childbirth and her father had gone up north to look for work and had never returned. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place you’d expect a young doctor to be living in, but she had student loans to pay off, and the house was free. Macy let out an exhausted sigh and started for her bed.

No, she’d better set the alarm for a couple of hours. Then she could be up and off to work, and Alex would be none the wiser.

Batteries checked, clock set, she headed for bed without bothering to undress. She simply kicked off her shoes and fell onto the sheets she’d vacated when the storm had struck. It seemed like days since she’d left that bed, but it had only been hours.

So why did she find it so impossible to sleep?

She managed a wry chuckle to herself. She knew exactly why. Alex Blocker. Back in town and, worse than that, right next door.

Why had Alex decided to come back now? Why had he come back at all? She remembered how strongly he had felt about Lyndonville. How he had blamed it for killing his father and wearing his mother down. He’d always said that nothing good ever happened to him in Lyndonville. After her brother C.J. had died in a helicopter crash, Alex had sworn that the next time he came back, it would be in a pine box, like C.J.

Well, he was back. And he wasn’t in a pine box. He was very much alive.

IN SPITE OF his late night, Block woke up shortly after dawn. He would have preferred to sleep in this morning, but he figured he’d best get out there and see where he could help. He didn’t have a lot of carpentry skill, but he had a strong back and a willing mind. The hour or so he’d slept had refreshed him. If he’d slept any longer, he probably would have been a wreck, but in special ops, he had long ago learned to make do with combat naps.

He stumbled into the bathroom and cleaned up as best he could without the benefit of hot water and light and dressed in worn jeans and a sleeveless sweatshirt. He hadn’t brought much in the way of work clothes, but these were sturdy and they’d have to do. He headed for the kitchen to see what his grandmother had to eat.

He stepped into the room and stopped short. A kid, back to him at the table, a bowl of multicolored cereal in front of him, was chattering like a blue jay while Gramma looked on indulgently.

“I thought you didn’t take in day-care kids anymore, Gramma,” he said once he’d gotten over the initial surprise.

“Well, I had thought to retire,” Gramma said as she pushed herself up out of her chair. “But this one is just so special, I couldn’t resist.”

The object of discussion turned around. His eyes grew wide, seeming to take over his elflike face, comical-looking with several circles of colored cereal stuck to his milk-chocolate-colored cheek. He stared at Block.

“Good morning,” Block said to the little boy.

The kid smiled shyly and quickly turned back to his cereal, but Block saw that the kid wasn’t eating.

“This is Cory,” Gramma said, rubbing the little boy’s head affectionately. “I guess he’s goin’ to be shy this morning.”

Block’s experience with kids was limited, but he figured he’d do his best to make friends if his grandmother was going to be taking care of the boy for the duration of his week or so stay. “Nice to meet you, Cory. My name is Bl—I mean Alex.” He’d been Block to his fellow combat controllers for so long, he still had a hard time thinking of himself as Alex. He guessed he was going to have to get used to it.

Cory held up four sticky fingers. “I’m four,” he announced proudly. “Next year I getta go to the kiddie garden like a big kid, an’ I won’t hafta stay at Gramma’s like a little kid.”

“Gramma’s? Is this a nephew I don’t know about?” He looked at his grandmother for clarification.

“It’s a long story,” Gramma said, putting a plate of cold corn bread and ham on the table. “Power’s still out so I can’t cook, but here. Eat. You need all your energy for today.”

Block looked at the cold ham and congealed fat and grimaced. “Gramma, you know I love your cooking, but I think I’ll see if I can find something hot in town. Maybe some of the fast-food places are up and running. The power can’t be out all over.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d best get moving.” He headed for the front door.

He yanked the door open and stopped still.

There, on the porch, stood Macy, her hand raised to knock.

Macy gasped, then stepped back a half step. Her other hand rose involuntarily to her throat, and she let out a startled squeak. “Oh my goodness. Alex,” she managed. “I didn’t expect the door to open.”

Though he’d seen her just a few hours ago, Block was stunned by the vision in front of him. He’d almost convinced himself that he hadn’t spent most of the night with Macy Jackson, that they hadn’t kissed, that he’d just dreamed it.

Her hair was the same chestnut brown that had curled in ringlets around her face, although today she had it pulled back in some sort of prissy ball. Even as she’d tried to tame them, some of the ringlets had pulled free and framed her face. Her skin was the same blend of coffee and cream he remembered from last night, but now, in the light of day, he could see something different about her.

Her formerly skinny frame seemed riper, more lush than he remembered. Why hadn’t he noticed it last night? Of course, they’d been in the middle of a major disaster. But in the morning light he could see that Macy had matured and filled out.

“Nice to see you again, Macy,” he said, trying to sound cool and collected. “I wish we could talk, but I’m outta here. Got to go see where my services are needed with the cleanup.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s fine,” Macy said, an expression akin to panic in her wide, hazel eyes. Her hand was still raised as if frozen in place. Slowly, she lowered it to her side and seemed to relax. “I have to speak to your grandmother before I go to the clinic this morning. Don’t let me keep you.”

Block stepped aside and gestured inward. “She’s in the kitchen.”

Macy brushed past him leaving faint traces of soap or perfume in the air. Peach? Whatever it was, it smelled damned good.

Shaking his head and grinning, Block hustled to his SUV.

MACY CLOSED her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, though she didn’t relax until she was certain Alex had driven away. Then she pulled herself together and hurried into the kitchen.

She was still tired, but she painted a smile on her face and knocked on the door frame. Willadean had insisted that she let Cory sleep over, rather than wake him. It had saved her from having to settle him down, and she’d been able to get to sleep all the sooner. But she wouldn’t dream of leaving for the clinic without saying goodbye, so here she was.

“Good morning, everyone,” she said, with false cheer. She hurried to Cory sitting at the table and kissed him on the top of his dark head. “I just wanted to check in with my two favorite people before I headed off to the clinic this morning.”

“Did you see that great big man?” Cory asked, reaching up to hug Macy with sticky hands.

Macy backed up half a step and looked at Willadean. “Sugary cereal? He’ll wear you out by the end of the day.”

“Can’t cook,” Willadean said. “The power’s still off. One little bowl of cereal won’t hurt him just this once.”

Somehow, Macy didn’t think that this was the first time. Otherwise, why would Willadean have the fruit-flavored stuff on hand? She arched an eyebrow. “Seems like cornflakes would be better for everyone.”

“Hey, you didn’t answer my question, Mama. Did you see the great big man?” Cory pressed.

“Yes, son. I saw him.” She turned to Willadean who was buttering a piece of cold corn bread. “I didn’t know Alex was going to be in town. Will he be here long?”

“Did you have any breakfast?” Willadean asked, carrying on her campaign to see that Macy ate. “There’s corn bread and cold ham that’ll just spoil if somebody don’t use it.”

“I had a peanut-butter sandwich, and that’ll hold me till I get to work. I have some microwave lunches I can heat up there. At least the clinic has a generator.” Was Willadean avoiding her question? “You didn’t say what Alex was doing here,” Macy reminded the elderly woman.

“Oh, don’t you remember I told you that I’d be having company coming for my birthday next week? Since Alex hurt his leg, he can’t do that jumping out of airplanes stuff anymore, so he’s interviewing for a job at the recruitin’ station in Florence. And he’ll be stayin’ here long enough to be at the party.” Willadean paused and smiled. “It’ll sure be good to have him back home where he belongs.”

Macy wasn’t certain she could second that, but perhaps Alex would stay busy with storm cleanup, have his interview and return to his base. And maybe he wouldn’t get the job. “I saw Alex last night, and he mentioned the interview,” she said. “He was helping with the tornado cleanup. I noticed he was limping and tended his knee.”

Alex hadn’t told her much at all. He’d just swept her off her feet and all but kissed her senseless. Well, actually…she reminded herself, she’d kissed him first. Then he’d kissed her back. Ten years ago, having Alex pay attention to her would have been a dream come true, but now she had a feeling that it was going to be a nightmare.

Macy couldn’t bear the thought of Alex being so close, even for just a week. With his grandmother only next door, she would be bound to run into him time after time. She wasn’t sure she would be able to handle that. Not after…

No, she wouldn’t think about that.

Cory yanked on Macy’s white lab coat. “He was really big. Maybe a hunnerd feet tall!” Cory said, spreading his arms expansively.

Willadean laughed. “He’s not that big, but he is a good-sized man.” She looked at Macy. “I reckon you’d best go on. Me ’n’ Cory will be busy all morning getting the yard cleaned up.”

“All right,” she said slowly. She reached down to hug Cory. “You be a good boy for Gramma Willadean,” she said, then planted a kiss on his sticky cheek.

Cory kissed her back. “You know I’m always good for Gramma,” he said. Then he turned back to his cereal.

“Cory child will be fine here today just like always. I can find plenty for him to do even if the power stays off.” Gramma Willadean chuckled. “What do you think I done with Alex’s father way back in the days before I had television?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Macy said as she turned to leave. And she wasn’t sure of another thing. Did she want Alex Blocker to stay in town, or did she want him to leave? If she thought she could count on him over the long haul, she supposed she’d love him to stay. But then, she didn’t know what she’d do if Alex stayed around long enough to start asking questions about her son.

BLOCK DROVE through streets striped with long shadows painted by the morning sun and littered with fallen branches and tattered leaves. Amazing how such an ugly night could lead into such a beautiful morning. The sky was crystal-clear blue, almost as if the storm had swept it clean.

He breathed deep of the crisp, clean air through his open car window. They might have had a pretty fall in a few weeks, but the storm had taken care of that, ripping most of the leaves from the trees before they had a chance to turn. At least the damage in Gramma’s part of town had been minimal.

Macy had looked gorgeous in the morning light, Block remembered suddenly. She hadn’t looked half-bad last night, either, in spite of her fatigue. But Block had a bad feeling that sunshine would do nothing to improve the appearance of that trailer park today. Still, he couldn’t have stayed at Gramma’s house with her waiting on him when there was so much to be done here. Sure, there was some minor damage at Gramma’s, but it could wait.

He turned the corner and saw what was left of Faron’s Trailer Park. As he’d predicted, the light of day had done nothing to improve the appearance of the trailers turned on their sides, roofs gone, metal twisted and shredded. Seeing it now, he marveled that he’d been able to pull anyone out alive. At least today, the fires that had given the scene such an eerie glow were no longer burning, but the acrid smell of smoke and burning wires still hung in the air.

Block parked at the little strip mall across from the trailer park and wondered where to start, who to see. As he climbed out, he spotted the man from the drugstore vainly trying to lift a huge pecan limb off of his car.

“Hey, buddy,” Block called. “Let me give you a hand with that.”

Now he felt useful. Anything to keep from thinking about his past, his future, or Macy, the girl who’d gotten away. Or wondering why he’d let her.

MACY HADN’T been able to see the damage to the clinic the night before. The walls and the windows were intact, but the gently sloping roof had taken quite a hit. Though she couldn’t tell exactly how badly it was damaged, a large section of shingles had blown away, and one of the pines that had provided welcome shade in the summer leaned against one side. There didn’t seem to be any structural damage to the building, but the tree would have to be felled, and the roof repaired…with money she didn’t have. There was insurance, but the deductible was so high, that Macy doubted it would be of much help. So much for trying to keep the premiums low…

Macy sighed and pushed her car door open. Last night when it was still raining, at least, the interior had remained dry. Maybe she could postpone the repairs until the more serious damage around town had been taken care of. The building might not look pretty right now, but it was functional.

She just wondered how long she could put off the repairs. The clinic barely broke even most of the time. Many of her patients paid what they could, some in produce or jellies and jams, and others depended on less-than-adequate insurance programs. And many times she’d done with less to make sure that her staff was paid. At least, she lived in Aunt Earnestine’s house free and clear.

A vehicle pulled up, and Macy turned around to see if she already had a patient. She was pleased to find a utility truck turning into the parking lot.

“Morning, Doc,” the driver said as he climbed out and tipped his hard hat. “Figured getting your power back on was a priority.”

“Yes, thank you,” Macy said as she stepped out of her own car. Just seeing the power truck was enough to energize her and brighten her day. And her clinic, she thought with a wry chuckle.

Maybe the situation wasn’t quite as desperate as she’d first imagined.

She collected her medical bag and purse and hurried to unlock the front door. If she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t be organized before the first patient arrived today.

THE HARD WORK kept Block from thinking about the interview scheduled for later that week, or wondering about Macy or the change in the town. He had mixed emotions about Lyndonville. When he was growing up it had seemed such an unfriendly place, and for a kid growing up on the wrong side of the railroad spur, life had not been easy. Yet, people he cared about lived here.

He cut the power to the chainsaw and stopped for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow. If he’d thought about it, he could have brought a sweatband from his workout clothes, but he’d had to make do with a red railman’s bandana the guy from the drugstore had given him. Funny, he didn’t even know the man’s name.

Block had been one of the first in line to purchase a gas-powered chainsaw when the hardware store opened, and now he was working his way through the town, clearing streets and cutting up broken limbs wherever he was needed. He’d learned to use the saw in the air force, and cutting down broken limbs or cutting up fallen trees wasn’t that much different than creating and setting up an airstrip out of nothing in the middle of nowhere. And he was doing something useful.

He looked up and was surprised to discover that he’d worked his way over to Macy’s clinic. Had his choice of direction been intentional?

A tree, uprooted by the storm, was balanced precariously against the roof. Torn shingles littered the ground like fallen leaves, and there wasn’t a soul in sight who seemed to be doing anything about it. The clinic was busy, though, if the number of cars in the small parking lot was any indication.

Block stepped inside the door and threaded his way through a maze of patients on hard plastic chairs and asked the harried receptionist if she needed the tree taken down.

The woman looked up, a wary expression on her face. “How much?”

Block suspected there were already people out there charging exorbitant fees for work, but he wasn’t one of them. “It’s on me,” he said as the phone rang. “I just want to help.”

“Have at it,” the woman said with a weary smile. She turned to answer the phone.

He hadn’t seen Macy, and maybe he should have checked with her, but the woman hadn’t hesitated when she’d told him to go ahead, so he figured it was all right.

“I’VE TAKEN a throat culture, Mrs. Pelham, but I don’t think it’s…strep—” Macy stopped at the sound of thumping on the roof. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear it was footsteps.

“Sometimes we have squirrels in the attic,” she said to her patient’s mother. If it was a squirrel, it was a very big squirrel, she thought as she wrote out a scrip for an antibiotic. “I’m going to give you a prescription, but don’t fill it until I get the labs back and call you. Chances are, by the time the tests come back, Cassie will be feeling her old self again anyway. Just give her lots of liquids and let her eat if she’s hungry.” She gave Mrs. Pelham, a new mother, a reassuring smile.

Before Mrs. Pelham could respond, the sound of a chainsaw at close quarters ripped through the air.

“What the…!” Macy went to the window and opened the venetian blinds just as a large mass of green and brown fell past the window and landed on the lawn with a thump.

She turned back to Mrs. Pelham. “Do you have any other questions?” Macy asked. “I hate to rush you, but I have to find out what’s going on.”

“No, ma’am, I understand.” The woman gathered up her baby and assorted paraphernalia and turned toward the door.

Macy left the chart on the exam table and brushed past the woman and child in the hall and hurried out to the reception desk.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Macy asked the receptionist as she headed for the door.

Bettina looked up from a phone call and said, “A guy came by and asked if we’d like to have the tree taken down. He said he wouldn’t charge, so I said to go ahead.”

“You didn’t check with me first?”

Bettina gestured toward the teeming waiting room. “I didn’t think I needed to bother you.”

Macy sighed. “You could have warned me. Who is it?”

The receptionist shrugged. “I don’t know. Sure is good-looking, though. He could definitely be Mr. October in some hunk-of-the-month calendar.”

“I’m going out to check on our benefactor, and then I’ll be back for the next patient.”

She stepped outside and shaded her eyes with her hands to see who was up on her roof. With the sun in her eyes, all she could see was a silhouette, but if the silhouette was any indication, hunk was right.

“Hello, up there. Can I speak to you for a minute?”

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