She would have to tell Rory the truth about what had happened after their summer together

Except she had tried. And he hadn’t cared enough about her to return her phone calls when she’d desperately needed to talk to him nearly six years ago. His silence had added an exclamation point to their argument about maintaining a long-distance relationship.

She’d lost that battle—in spades.

But she’d won something more precious.

Now the time had come when she had to face up to reality. But first she had to determine what kind of man Rory had become. There was more at stake than her own heart.

She tried to remember another time in her life when her emotions had been so volatile. Or when procrastination had seemed like a perfect solution to whatever dilemma she faced.

Soon—very soon—she would have to tell Rory he had a five-year-old son.…

Dear Reader,

This month Harlequin American Romance delivers favorite authors and irresistible stories of heart, home and happiness that are sure to leave you smiling.

COWBOYS BY THE DOZEN, Tina Leonard’s new family-connected miniseries, premieres this month with Frisco Joe’s Fiancée, in which a single mother and her daughter give a hard-riding, heartbreaking cowboy second thoughts about bachelorhood.

Next, in Prognosis: A Baby? Maybe, the latest book in Jacqueline Diamond’s THE BABIES OF DOCTORS CIRCLE miniseries, a playboy doctor’s paternal instincts and suspicions are aroused when he sees a baby girl with the woman who had shared a night of passion with him. Was this child his? THE HARTWELL HOPE CHESTS, Rita Herron’s delightful series, resumes with Have Cowboy, Need Cupid, in which a city girl suddenly starts dreaming about a cowboy groom after opening an heirloom hope chest. And rounding out the month is Montana Daddy, a reunion romance and secret baby story by Charlotte Maclay.

Enjoy this month’s offerings as Harlequin American Romance continues to celebrate its yearlong twentieth anniversary.

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Montana Daddy

Charlotte Maclay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Charlotte Maclay can’t resist a happy ending. That’s why she’s had such fun writing more than twenty titles for Harlequin American Romance, Duets and Love & Laughter, plus several Silhouette Romance books, as well. Charlotte is particularly well-known for her volunteer efforts in her hometown of Torrance, California; her philosophy is that you should make a difference in your community. She and her husband have two married daughters and four grandchildren, whom they are occasionally allowed to baby-sit. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 505, Torrance, CA 90508.

Books by Charlotte Maclay

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

474—THE VILLAIN’S LADY

488—A GHOSTLY AFFAIR

503—ELUSIVE TREASURE

532—MICHAEL’S MAGIC

537—THE KIDNAPPED BRIDE

566—HOW TO MARRY A MILLIONAIRE

585—THE COWBOY & THE BELLY DANCER

620—THE BEWITCHING BACHELOR

643—WANTED: A DAD TO BRAG ABOUT

657—THE LITTLEST ANGEL

684—STEALING SAMANTHA

709—CATCHING A DADDY

728—A LITTLE BIT PREGNANT

743—THE HOG-TIED GROOM

766—DADDY’S LITTLE COWGIRL

788—DEPUTY DADDY

806—A DADDY FOR BECKY

821—THE RIGHT COWBOY’S BED*

825—IN A COWBOY’S EMBRACE*

886—BOLD AND BRAVE-HEARTED**

890—WITH VALOR AND DEVOTION**

894—BETWEEN HONOR AND DUTY**

915—WITH COURAGE AND COMMITMENT**

929—AT THE RANCHER’S BIDDING

943—COURTSHIP, MONTANA STYLE

980—MONTANA DADDY

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

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One

“I’m going to break my fool neck if somebody doesn’t help me out of this truck!” The penetrating voice of Dr. Justine Beauchamp cut through the chilly afternoon quiet in Grass Valley, Montana.

Across the road from the medical clinic, Rory Swift Eagle Oakes smiled to himself, tugged his black Stetson down more firmly and ambled toward the unfamiliar SUV that had pulled up in front of the old three-story Victorian house. As a kid he’d thought the dormer windows were like eyes and the occupants were watching him.

Now he and the often cantankerous doctor were colleagues of sorts. She took care of the two-legged patients in this northern part of the state, and he handled those with four. Plus a few two-legged birds of prey who fell victim to hunters or tangled with power lines. Doc Justine, for all of her years in this part of the world, didn’t have much interest in rehabilitating injured hawks and eagles. Or wolves and elks, for that matter.

For Rory, that was the best part of his job as a veterinarian.

“You think you could hurry a little?” Doc complained. “I’m tired of being a prisoner in this tin can.”

“I’ll be right there,” came a muted reply from the SUV’s driver.

A couple of days ago, the doctor had slipped on some ice and gone down hard. She’d broken her ankle, which required a trip to Great Falls for surgery. Obviously, someone had brought her back home—a friend from Washington, according to the license plates.

Rory grinned again. He could imagine what a fun two-hour trip from the hospital to Grass Valley that must have been with Doc and her sharp tongue.

“I’ll get her,” he called to the driver of the truck, who was exiting the vehicle on the far side. He opened the passenger door.

“About time,” the doc muttered. Her leg was propped at an awkward angle, a cast on her foot up to her calf.

“Quit your complaining, Doc,” he said. “You’ll give Grass Valley a bad name.”

“I never complain. Patients are the ones who complain.”

He swallowed a grin. “Whatever you say, Doc.” She wasn’t a big woman, probably weighed less than a calf, so he slipped one arm beneath her thighs, the other around her back and hefted her out of the truck.

Turning, he almost collided with a younger woman who was standing there. Her features were so familiar, so unexpected, her appearance drove the breath from his lungs. She had the same clear-blue eyes he vividly remembered. The same vibrant, strawberry-blond hair.

His muscles went weak from the collision of memories, and Doc Justine nearly slipped from his arms.

She grabbed him around the neck. “Young man, you drop me and I’ll have you up on charges of assault and battery on an old lady. What would your brother, our venerable sheriff, think of that?”

Rory adjusted his grip on the doctor but he didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Kristi Kerrigan’s eyes had him ensnared like a jackrabbit in a steel trap. How many years had it been? Could it be more than five? It felt like a hundred. Or maybe it had only been yesterday. She hadn’t changed a bit. If anything she was more beautiful now than she had been when she’d visited her grandma Beauchamp that long-ago summer.

The summer before he’d entered veterinary medicine school.

Kristi was the first to break eye contact, jerking her gaze away from Rory.

“I’ll get the front door, Grandma.”

“You do that, honey, before our resident Indian chief dumps me on my rear end.”

Ignoring the doc’s comment about him being a chief, Rory followed Kristi up the short walkway to the structure that served as both clinic and home for Justine. The sway of Kristi’s hips in snug-fitting jeans mesmerized him, the swing of her hair at the collar of her heavy jacket tantalized.

She held the door open for him, and he brushed past her, catching the scent of apples, fresh and simple. Still her signature scent. And the memories of that all-too-brief summer came rushing back to him again.

“Where to, Doc?” he asked, eyeing the stairway to the second floor. Display cases filled with antique medical equipment that looked more like torture devices than life-saving equipment lined the entry. The entrance to the clinic was on the left, the family living room on the right, and the bedrooms were upstairs.

“First thing, I need to use the facilities at the end of the hallway. And stop ogling my granddaughter. She’s too good for you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He wouldn’t argue with Justine’s assessment of their relative merits, but he was going to have trouble not ogling. Kristi was like the first breath of spring coming on the heels of a long, hard winter.

A winter that had lasted for more than five years.

“If you can get her into the bathroom,” Kristi said, “I can take it from there.”

“Young lady, I’ve been taking care of myself for better than seventy years. I think I can manage one more time, bad ankle or not, thank you very much.”

Setting Justine on her feet—or at least on one foot—Rory backed out of the small bathroom.

“Call if you need me,” Kristi said as the door swung shut.

The hallway was narrow. Barely enough room for them to stand opposite each other, Kristi hugging a pair a crutches in her arms like a favorite pillow to ward off bad dreams.

Taking off his hat, Rory fiddled with the brim, shaping the felt into a smooth, curving line.

“The doc’s getting crustier every year.” His tongue felt as if it was glued to the roof of his mouth, and his voice was husky with the effort to speak past the raw ache of emotion in his throat. She was so darn beautiful. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her.

“It’s part of her charm.”

His lips eased into the suggestion of a smile. “It’s good to see you, Kristi.”

“You, too.” Her gaze focused on the doorknob, not on him.

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

Her head snapped around, a blaze of irritation in her blue eyes. “Yes, I have. I’m almost six years older and ten pounds fatter than when you last saw me.”

In a lazy perusal, he took in her appearance, noting the subtle changes—her breasts a little fuller, her hips more womanly. “On you it looks good.”

Her cheeks blossomed with a rosy blush, and she huffed, looking away again. “Thanks for helping me with Grandma. You can go now.”

“That sounds like you want to get rid of me.”

“I do. I have to get Grandma settled, fix her something to eat. No need for you to hang around.”

Her curt tone was meant to cut, and he felt a youthful stab of rejection. “Are you going to be staying long?”

“A few days. I’m not sure yet.”

He tapped his hat back onto his head and, sliding his hands into his jeans’ pockets, he nodded. “Give me a call if Doc needs anything.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along fine without you.”

What the hell was the matter with her? The summer they’d met she’d been as sweet as a newborn colt, prancing and dancing, filled with excitement about the future. Together they’d experienced the first bloom of young love. At least, he had.

Then they’d moved on with their lives. Within days he’d been so overwhelmed with his medical studies that he’d barely been able to keep his head above water academically. She’d probably been in nearly the same fix with her premed courses. She sure hadn’t found the time to call him.

When they’d both headed off for school, he’d been afraid a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work. He’d even told her so. She’d argued they could manage it.

It hadn’t taken long to discover he’d been right.

He shrugged, pretending indifference. “Maybe we’ll have a chance to get together before you leave, talk about old times.”

She started to speak, but before she got a word out there was a staccato knock on the front door, and it opened.

“Yoo-hoo, it’s only me! Hetty Moore.” The owner of the general store swooped into the house, a heavy winter jacket covering her floral-print dress, a casserole dish in her hands. “I saw the car outside and thought—My sakes, is that little Kristi all grown up?”

Kristi eased past Rory, grateful for the interruption. With his chiseled features, burnished complexion and midnight-black hair, he was simply too potent, too masculine for her comfort. And he brought back far too many memories she’d valiantly tried to suppress. Her emotions were bouncing all over the place—residual anger, a too-foolish joy at seeing him and a clawing fear that her return to Grass Valley might be a terrible mistake.

There’d been no way she could refuse her grandmother’s request to help her—not the woman who had been her mentor and had once saved her life.

She’d known that in coming here she would have to face Rory sooner or later. She’d hoped for a little more time to adjust to the idea, to prepare herself for what she had to tell him. As usual, when it came to Rory Oakes, her wish hadn’t been granted.

“Hello, Mrs. Moore. How are you?”

“Fit as can be. And aren’t you just as pretty as ever. Isn’t that so, Rory?”

He’d come up behind Kristi, close enough that she imagined she could feel the heat of his body, his raging metabolism. Her own flesh warmed at the thought, the memory of how he had once held her in his ardent embrace. In the hallway, he’d towered over her. Even now with her back turned to him, he dominated the entire room and every molecule of her awareness.

“Yes, ma’am.” he said. “I was just telling her that.”

With hands that trembled, Kristi set aside her grandmother’s crutches and took the casserole dish from Hetty. “Thank you. I was just going to fix something for Grandma to eat. She hates hospital food.”

“It’s only hot dogs and macaroni but it’s one of Justine’s favorites. Can’t think why she didn’t ask a neighbor to pick her up in Great Falls instead of having you come all this way.”

“Yes, well, she wanted me to—”

From the bathroom Justine shouted, “You folks gonna strand me in here forever? Somebody bring me those darn crutches.”

“I’ll get ’em.”

Rory reached past Kristi for the crutches, and she quickly scooted out of his way. Even so, she caught the scent of his sheepskin jacket, an elemental fragrance much like the man himself. He wore his cowboy hat low on his forehead, shadowing his dark eyes and concealing his jet-black hair, creating the air of a loner.

There was another knock on the front door.

“That’ll be Marlene Huhn,” Hetty said. “Probably bringing some of her German potato salad for Justine to gag down. She uses too much vinegar, you know.”

Involuntarily, Kristi’s lips puckered. She remembered the dish from church potlucks. “I’ll let her in.”

On the porch, she discovered Valery Haywood had arrived along with Marlene Huhn. The two women, their faces etched from years of exposure to the Montana sun, squeezed inside together, not wanting the other one to get a head start on the latest gossip.

“I brought some ham mixed with the string beans I put up from the garden last summer,” Mrs. Haywood said. “Thought Justine would enjoy some veggies.”

“I brought my hot potato salad. Made it special for Justine.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you both.” Without a free hand to take the dishes, Kristi gestured toward the kitchen. “Could you put them in the refrigerator for me?”

“Ja, we can do that. How is Justine? We all just felt awful about her falling down,” Marlene said, still a trace of a German accent in her voice.

“She’s a little cranky but I’m sure—”

Justine hobbled into the living room on her crutches, Rory helping her. “You’d be cranky, too, little girl, if you had to haul around twenty pounds of plaster attached to your foot.” With an irritated sigh, she plopped down on the chintz-covered couch.

Kristi rolled her eyes. In her experience as a registered nurse—and more recently as a nurse practitioner—doctors made the worst possible patients. Her grandmother was no exception. The next couple of weeks, while Justine recovered from her injury and Kristi assisted with her medical practice, were going to be difficult at best.

Within minutes, more neighbors arrived until the refrigerator was crammed with casseroles and the kitchen table covered with cakes and pies. Most of the ladies stayed to visit, crowding into the small living room.

“Tell us, Kristi,” Hetty said, “what have you been up to these past few years? Your grandmother never talks much about you or your mother. How’s your family, dear?”

Justine snorted. “I don’t gossip like some folks I know, if that’s what you’re getting at. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

Kristi’s gaze slid to Rory, who was standing on the far side of the room. He’d removed his hat and was smiling at her, his dark eyes filled with amusement at the antics of the well-meaning town busy-bodies. Her heart lunged at the sight of him, skipping a beat, and an unwelcome ache of loneliness filled her chest.

Mentally she redefined the next two weeks from difficult to impossible. That she had agreed to come here at all was clear evidence she’d lost every ounce of good sense she’d ever possessed.

The very last thing she wanted was for Rory to be privy to a conversation about her and her family.

“Ladies, I know my grandmother appreciates your concern and all the food you’ve brought, but she’s had a long, difficult few days since she broke her ankle. Give her some time to catch up on her rest. Then she’ll be happy to visit with you, I’m sure.”

Holding her breath while the neighbor ladies said their goodbyes, Kristi deliberately avoided looking at Rory, which didn’t prevent her from feeling his gaze on her. Boring into her psyche. Probing her secret thoughts.

Her sense of guilt brought a flush to her face, and she knew darn well she looked as guilty as she felt, like a five-year-old who had snitched more than one cookie from the cookie jar. Which in a way, she had.

Finally, after the others had left and the room grew quiet, Rory got the hint.

“Guess I’d better be going, too.” He sauntered across the room toward her.

“Yes, that would be best—for Grandma.”

“Shoot, honey,” Justine said, “those folks brought us enough food for an army. Might as well ask Rory to stay for supper.”

Kristi blanched. “No, I don’t think—”

“Thanks, anyway, Doc. I’ve got an injured elk in my back pen that I’ve got to feed. He fell through some thin river ice a couple of weeks back and got stuck.” He tugged the collar of his coat up around his neck, winked at Kristi and lowered his voice. “I’ve never been too fond of Marlene Huhn’s potato salad, anyway.”

By the time the door closed behind Rory, Kristi knew she wouldn’t be able to draw an easy breath until she was miles from Grass Valley and her secret was safe again.

She’d been a fool to come here at all, no matter how much her grandmother had begged on the phone from her hospital bed. The people of Grass Valley could drive a few extra miles for the next two weeks if they needed doctoring.

She shouldn’t have risked returning to the town—or the man who had broken her heart. Forget her conscience had been bothering her for years for not telling him the truth. He’d been the one who hadn’t returned her phone calls. He was the one who’d found someone else.

Her stomach knotted in despair.

She would be the one to suffer if she didn’t confront Rory and her fears. Until she did that, she’d never be able to get on with her life, because no other man had ever come close to comparing with her memories of Rory.

THE YOUNG ELK SCRAMBLED to the far side of the chain-link enclosure, his injured foreleg making his gait awkward. He turned to glare at Rory with his huge brown eyes and pawed the ground, kicking up dirt and the remnants of the last snow storm.

“It’s all right, youngster.” Rory broke the skin of ice from the watering trough, then forked some hay into the feeding bin. “Another week or so, and you’ll be good to go again.”

It had been lucky some local snowmobilers spotted the elk trapped in river ice or the animal would have died. Rory, as the area’s only veterinarian and a wild-life rehabilitator, got the call to rescue the animal. At the time, the elk hadn’t been too appreciative of Rory’s efforts.

He still wasn’t being exactly friendly.

Which was good. Rory had no intention of making the elk a pet. Just the opposite. He intended to return the elk to the wild as soon as the youngster was able to keep up with the herd. Rory didn’t want the animal to become dependent on humans for either food or comfort. Generally, elk and deer did well in confinement and returned to the wild without a problem.

He stabbed the pitchfork into the pile of hay and let it rest there. April was always a tough month this far north, almost to the Canadian border. Winter had gone on too long; the warmth of spring was weeks off yet. Summer was only a vague promise.

Only the sturdy—or obstinate—survived in this climate. He figured he was a little bit of both.

Tugging the pitchfork free, he ambled back toward the clinic and outbuildings, which were adjacent to the small clapboard house where he lived. Grass Valley wasn’t a big town—a single main street boasting of a general store, a drugstore that sold more ice cream than antibiotics, a busy saloon and a garage surrounded by derelict cars—all of which Rory could see from his couple of acres of land a block away.

Beyond the little town a pine-covered hill rose above a shallow river. The slash of dirt and rock left by a landslide last summer still scarred the hillside, and if it hadn’t been for Rory, his brothers and Joe Moore, the tumble of boulders would have blocked the river, flooding the town of Grass Valley. Instead they’d blown big rocks into little ones, allowing the flow of water to continue downstream. A pretty nerve-racking day, as Rory recalled.

Pausing near the walkway to his house, he glanced across the street to the medical clinic and let his thoughts slip further back in time.

When Kristi visited her grandmother nearly six years ago, Rory hadn’t anything to offer her for the long term. He’d been little more than a kid himself, about to enter veterinary medicine school and not all that confident he would be able to finish the rigorous course of study. His past included years in foster care, a few adolescent brushes with the law and finally adoption by Oliver Oakes, who had owned the Double O Ranch outside of town.

He’d had no guaranteed future at all.

Now he had a veterinary practice and a home that belonged to him and the Bank of Montana—in unequal shares. Plus, he was steadily wearing down the balance due on his student loans.

But from the way Kristi had avoided his gaze and her less-than-eager greeting, he doubted she’d be interested to learn he was making a success of himself.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and concentrated on the sounds of Mother Earth—the wind moving through the bare branches of the elm tree in his front yard, the crackling of dry grass as a rabbit dashed unseen through the vacant land nearby, the flight of a hawk’s wings through the air.

Jimmy Deer Running, the chief of the Blackfeet tribe on the nearby reservation, had told Rory not to resent the past but to learn from it. That wasn’t always an easy thing to do. Hell, most of the time he wasn’t even sure what lesson he was supposed to be learning.

Like why Kristi had never called or written to him after their summer together.

Why the hell didn’t you call her?

In retrospect, that seemed like a big mistake.

Maybe that explained her standoffish reception today. Maybe she was mad at him. Or maybe she was having the proverbial morning-after regrets some five-plus years later. He supposed he couldn’t blame her in either case.

Women were so darn hard to understand.

Glancing up at the darkening sky, he wondered if the predicted storm front was still moving their way from Canada. Spring weather could be the pits. Just when you were ready to get rid of winter, bam! another wicked storm would come through, and you’d be ready to move to Arizona.

Of course, as soon as the storm passed and the wildflowers bloomed, you’d remember Montana was God’s country.

Until the next winter.

Instead of going into his house to eat supper alone and watch reruns on TV, he decided to check in with his brother Eric. He could see the lights were still on in the sheriff’s office on Main Street.

Maybe he could talk ol’ White Eyes into having a beer with him at the Grass Valley Saloon, which featured “good eats” according to the banner that had hung in the window for as long as Rory could remember.

Tomorrow he’d start getting reacquainted with Kristi. She wouldn’t be around long. He intended to work as quickly as possible.

Smiling to himself, he sauntered toward Main Street.

Not many men get a second chance.

AS SHE WAS TRYING to rearrange too many casserole dishes into too small a refrigerator, Kristi happened to glance out the kitchen window.

Rory.

Her breath caught at the sight of his easy stride as he headed toward the center of town. Long and lanky, strolling along as though he had no cares in the world.

Meanwhile, her thoughts were a jumble.

Soon—very soon—she’d have to tell Rory the truth about what happened after their summer together.

Except, she had tried, more than once. And he hadn’t cared enough about her to return her phone calls when she’d desperately needed to talk to him nearly six years ago. His silence had added an exclamation point to their argument about maintaining a long-distance relationship.

She’d lost that battle—in spades.

But she’d won something more precious.

Bless her grandmother’s heart. Kristi had sworn Justine to secrecy when the doctor had discovered her secret. Good as her word, Justine had kept her confidence all these years.

Now the time had come—had nearly come, Kristi mentally corrected—when she had to face up to reality. But first she had to determine what kind of man Rory had become. There was more at stake than her own heart.

Her eyes fluttered closed momentarily, and she tried to remember another time in her life when her emotions had been so volatile. Or when procrastination had seemed like a perfect solution to whatever dilemma she faced.

Soon—very soon—she would have to tell Rory he had a five-year-old son, Adam, the true love of her life.

Chapter Two

The Grass Valley sheriff’s office boasted two cells, which mostly gathered dust, a potbellied wood stove capable of giving off enough heat for a volcano, and an assortment of chairs used mostly by the locals when they came in to visit with Eric.

A police radio was located on a console to one side of the room, always set to both police and emergency frequencies. The doctor’s office was hooked up to the same system. A useful tool in an area where ranches were far apart, cell phones didn’t always work and emergencies were as unpredictable as spring weather.

At the moment, the sheriff was sitting behind his desk talking on an ordinary phone. From his grim expression, Rory guessed Eric wasn’t having a social conversation.

Giving his brother a nod, Rory shed his jacket and hat and hung them on a peg near the door. While he waited for Eric to get off the phone, he idly thumbed through the latest stack of Wanted flyers on the corner of his brother’s desk. Fortunately he didn’t recognize anyone.

“What’s up?” Rory asked when his brother finished his phone call.

The chair squeaked as Eric leaned back. Unlike Rory, who wore his hair collar length, Eric trimmed his in a short, almost military style. It seemed to fit with the neat cut of his khaki uniform.

“Storm’s coming our way,” Eric said. “A bad one, according to the state Disaster Management Agency. They want me to implement our emergency plan.”

Rory cocked his brows. “Have we got one of those?”

“Sure we do. I gather together all the movers and shakers in our fair community and alert them there’s a blizzard coming.”

“They probably know that already from watching TV,” Rory pointed out.

“Possibly. Nonetheless, it’s not official till I tell ’em.”

“If you don’t tell them, does that mean the blizzard won’t show up?”

Eric’s brows pulled together in mock concentration. “I don’t think that’s how it works. I’ll check with Disaster Management next time they call.”

Chuckling, Rory sat on the corner of the desk. In a small town like Grass Valley, layers of bureaucracy weren’t much use, and his brother knew that. “So when’s the meeting?”

“Tonight at seven.” Eric opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a slender telephone directory. “I’ll get the preacher to open up the church—we’ll establish that as a shelter, if we need one. Then I’ll give folks a call, tell ’em we’ll be meeting there.”

“You need me to come?”

“You bet. Not only are you going to have to treat any animals that get themselves into trouble, you’re going to have to fill in for Doc Justine since she’s still in Great Falls.”

“Nope. The doc’s back. And her granddaughter, too.”

Eric lifted his attention from the telephone directory and shot a questioning look in Rory’s direction. “Kristi?”

Self-consciously, Rory shoved away from the desk and crossed the room to the stove. The mere mention of Kristi’s name made him sweat, and the heat of the stove was no antidote, so he edged toward the cooler air near the window. “Kristi picked the doc up at the hospital this afternoon and brought her back here.”

“You saw her? Kristi, I mean.”

Rory tried for a shrug of indifference but felt as if it came off too stiff. He was still stunned by seeing Kristi again and the wash of memories that had swept over him. “Yeah. I helped her get the doc into the house. She’s got a cast on her leg and using crutches.”

“So how’d Kristi look? Glad to see you, I bet.”

Hardly. “We didn’t talk much. She was anxious to get the doc settled in.”

“So is she married? Got kids or anything? Man, I remember you were so hot for her, I thought you’d burn up—”

Rory whirled. “We didn’t get to talk much, okay? Now, don’t you have a blizzard to prepare for or something, instead of sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong?”

Giving Rory a knowing grin, Eric waved off his comment. “I get the picture. You’re still hot for her.”

“Leave it alone, White Eyes.”

“Whatever you say, Bird Brain.”

The exchange of their youthful nicknames recalled the years they’d grown up together at the Double O Ranch. Eric, as the fairest of the three adopted brothers, had been dubbed White Eyes. Rory was tagged with Bird Brain after his Indian naming ceremony; his brothers took the position that Swift Eagle was too classy for him. Walker, the eldest of the three, picked up the name of Sharp Shooter—Sharpy for short—after he’d accidentally shot himself in the leg while showing off with their father’s rifle.

How any of them had survived adolescence still amazed Rory, and was due entirely to the patience and wisdom of the late Oliver Oakes, their adoptive father.

“Tell you what,” Eric said. “I’ll get things started here by calling the preacher, and you go talk to the doc. See what kind of supplies she has on hand, what procedures she’ll be able to handle—”

“You can call the doc yourself. She can talk just fine. Nonstop, if complaining counts.”

“It’ll be faster if you talk to her. At least you’ll understand her medical jargon better than I can.”

That might be true, but Rory didn’t have any urge to see Kristi again so soon. Actually he did, but she’d made it pretty clear she wasn’t eager for him to drop by. It’d be better to give her a little time. Let her relax, get used to the idea of him living right across the street. Then maybe he could figure out why she’d been so torque-jawed with him.

All business now, Eric picked up the phone and started punching in numbers. “Come to think of it, ask Kristi to come to the meeting tonight. She can be the go-between for Doc.”

Rory considered arguing with his brother but he knew he’d lose. Eric could be darn determined when he chose to be, a trait that had nearly cost him a leg riding a rodeo bull.

Kristi had been determined, too. Set on having a career. In no hurry to marry and have a family.

In that regard they’d been in agreement.

More than once Rory had wondered if that had been a mistake.

“KRISTI! You’re going to kill yourself!”

Doc Justine’s scream and a loud thumping noise propelled Rory through the door to the clinic and into the front hallway.

He came to an abrupt halt and tipped his hat to the back of his head.

Kristi was sitting on her rump at the bottom of the stairway, a double-bed mattress curved on the stairs behind her. Her face was red, and she looked out of breath.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I was just showing Grandma the latest rage in Spokane—the wild mattress ride. Tons of fun.”

Rory’s lips twitched but he didn’t dare let loose with the laugh that threatened. “I’m sure it will sweep the nation in no time.” He reached down to help her up.

She managed without him. “You could have knocked, you know.”

“Yeah, but I would have missed the next winner of World’s Funniest Videos.”

She eyed him with a hostility that wasn’t entirely convincing, given the twinkle of humor he spotted in the depth of her baby blues. “Things got a little out of hand,” she admitted.

“I can see that. What were you trying to do?”

“Besides kill herself?” Justine asked from the couch in the living room.

Kristi ignored her grandmother. “Grandma can’t get up the stairs on her crutches. Her arms aren’t strong enough.”

“I told her I could manage,” the doc groused. “She wouldn’t believe me.”

“So I wanted to set up her bed downstairs,” Kristi continued. “Things didn’t go quite as I had expected.”

“You could have called me. I would have helped.”

“That’s what I said, too,” Justine said, loud enough to rattle the door on it hinges. “But she’s the most stubborn girl I’ve ever seen. Don’t know where she gets it. Not from my side of the family, you can be sure of that.”

Both Kristi and Rory shifted their attention to Justine and burst out laughing.

Rory regained his composure first but he hoped Kristi never would. She had the most wonderful laugh, light and airy like a songbird in flight yet filled with warmth and caring. He could go on listening forever.

“Tell you what,” he said when Kristi’s laughter subsided. “I’ll help you bring down and set up whatever you need.”

“No need for all the fussing,” Justine insisted. “I can sleep on one of the examining tables until I can get around on my own.”

“You’d probably fall off, Grandma, and break something else. Besides, I’ll be examining patients on those tables.”

Rory started. “You’re going to examine patients?”

She glanced at him, then looked away. “I’m a nurse practitioner. The whole idea of me coming here during Grandma’s recovery is so she can see patients, as needed. I’ll be doing exams under her supervision.”

Surprise and disappointment combined to make Rory blurt out, “You didn’t go to med school?” He’d been so darn sure, so confident she’d go the limit. Nothing would stand in the way of her goal of becoming a pediatrician.

She bristled, her spine straightening until she was her full five feet five inches tall, the top of her head barely coming to his chin. “Some of us have responsibilities, Mr. Oakes. We can’t always do what we want to do.”

Justine snorted. “He’s not ‘mister.’ He’s got a piece of paper that says he’s a doctor, though I sure as hell wouldn’t want him to treat me for a case of rabies.”

Kristi looked up at him, a mixture of sadness and admiration in her eyes. “Grandma mentioned a couple of years ago that you’d graduated,” she whispered.

“By the skin of my teeth and pretty well near the bottom of my class, but yeah, I got my license.”

A sheen of tears suddenly blurred Kristi’s vision, and she had to look away. She was so proud of Rory and so angry that he had achieved what he’d set out to accomplish when she hadn’t quite made the grade.

Her own fault, she reminded herself. A premed student should have been more careful about birth control. A dumb mistake, one that had cost her a medical school education and her dream of becoming a doctor. She’d opted for fewer years of training, switching her goal to nursing so she could be home more with her baby.

In all fairness, that same mistake had been her greatest blessing and biggest joy—her son. She’d give her life to protect Adam from harm. Which is why she’d left him home with her mother while she helped Doc Justine. She had no idea how Rory would react to learning at this late date that he had a son, and she didn’t intend to risk having Adam hurt.

Nor was she eager to race into the uncertain world of a custody battle across state lines. She had a friend in Spokane whose divorce left her flying her two young children to Arizona three times a year to be with their father. Her girlfriend spent the entire time the children were gone worrying about them.

Turning to resume wrestling with the mattress, Kristi ignored a twinge of conscience. Despite the fact Rory hadn’t returned her phone calls, and had apparently found another woman at college almost before Kristi had gotten back home, he did have a right to know about his son.

She would tell him. But not right now.

Squeezing partway up the stairs, Rory grabbed the opposite side of the mattress. “Where do you want the bed set up?”

“The living room,” Kristi said.

“No way,” Justine insisted, her hearing in far better condition than her ankle. “Everybody who comes in will gawk at me like I’m some sort of a freak. Plant me in the second exam room. We can only handle one patient at a time, not that I ever have more than that, anyway.”

Kristi risked a glance in Rory’s direction and was snared by the intensity of his dark-eyed gaze. She swallowed hard.

“It’s her medical practice,” she said. “Her house.”

“Darn tooting it is,” Justine shouted, “so there’s no sense to argue.”

He hefted the mattress easily. “Lead the way, Nurse Kerrigan.” He took a step, then halted. “Are you still Kerrigan? Or did you get—”

“She’s still available, young man, if that’s what you’re asking. Not that she’d tumble for somebody who pokes needles in cows for a living.”

Heat raced to Kristi’s cheeks. “Grandma, if you don’t behave yourself, I’m getting in my car and going back to Spokane right now.”

“No, you won’t. You’re too much of a pushover to leave your old granny on her own. You wouldn’t be able to sleep nights if you did.”

God help her, Justine was right about that. There was little Kristi could refuse her grandmother. She owed Grandma her life…and her son’s. It had been Justine’s quick work the night of Adam’s birth that had saved him.

Sighing, Kristi pointed to the clinic door. “If you can carry the mattress in there, I’ll bring the box springs.”

“Should I get my video camera to record your encore stair descent?”

She was tempted to stick out her tongue at him, but his boyish grin was far too endearing. She remembered how frugal he’d been with his smiles when they’d first met, making each one precious to her and a major accomplishment. With every smile he’d sent in her direction, she’d floated on a sensual cloud of happiness for hours.

“Why don’t you let me handle moving the bed while you give the doc something to knock her out?” Rory suggested mildly.

“I heard that! You can’t get rid of me that easily. And don’t think I don’t know what you two young people are up to. I watch TV, you know.”

Kristi stifled a laugh. Impossible was quickly becoming an understatement.

“I’ll get the bedding,” she said, and headed up the stairs.

With Rory’s help it didn’t take long to set up the bed in the exam room. Even so Kristi fumbled with the sheets and blankets, intensely aware of a subtle undercurrent of intimacy in their task. Which was ridiculous. They were making a bed but it wasn’t their bed.

As a nurse she’d made up thousands of beds.

But never with a lean-hipped, broad-shouldered, hunky man of Native American descent, a man who had been the subject of her fantasies for more hours than she cared to admit. So much so that she hadn’t been able to develop a relationship with any other man. No one had compared to her memories of Rory.

Maybe hospitals would have more success recruiting nurses if they came equipped with men who looked like Rory. When she got back home, she’d drop a note in the suggestion box. Probably get a bonus for the idea, she thought, fighting off a bout of hysteria.

How in the name of heaven was she going to survive two weeks in Grass Valley with Rory showing up on the doorstep every few hours? She was going to have to start an epidemic of mad cow disease to keep him occupied and out of her hair.

Getting over him—putting the past behind her—was what she needed to do if she was ever going to move on with her life. That meant she had to face him and somehow find the courage to tell him the truth.

Not an easy ambition to achieve.

She watched as he smoothed the blanket over the sheets. He did have the nicest hands, long tapered fingers and a broad palm. Gentle hands, she remembered. Hands capable of arousing her to heights she’d only imagined.

“Eric’s calling an emergency meeting tonight at seven. He’d like you to come.”

…hands that stroked and caressed…

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“Eric. My brother. He’s the sheriff now. There’s a big storm coming, and he’s organizing us to do what we’d do anyway without being told. Which is to help out anybody who gets into trouble because of the weather.”

She blinked, trying to replace the sensual images that had filled her head with something more prosaic like the weather. “Why does he want me there?”

“In Doc Justine’s absence, you’re the designated emergency medical coordinator, or something like that. The disaster-planning people are real good about creating important-sounding titles.” He picked up a pillow, fluffed it and plopped it on the bed. “He could probably make you director of medical services, if you’d like that better.”

“No, coordinator is fine. Is the storm really going to be that bad?”

“They could be playing Chicken Little, but the satellite photos on the weather channel look pretty intense. I’d say don’t count on spring for a few weeks yet.”

She understood about planning for a disaster. You hoped it didn’t happen but you needed to be prepared. Leaving Justine alone for an hour or so to attend the meeting wouldn’t be a problem. Grandma could manage on her own for that long.

“Where’s the meeting?” she asked.

“At the church. I can come by and get you.”

Definitely not a taxi service she needed or wanted. Keeping the widest possible distance between herself and Rory was a far better choice, at least until she got her bearings and her courage built up. “I remember where the church is. I’ll be there at seven.”

“Great.” He stood back from the bed as far as the tiny examination room would allow. “Anything else you need from me?”

How about a couple of hours of great sex? “No, I think I’ve got everything under control for the moment.” Everything except her suddenly overactive libido. Damn!

He picked up his jacket from the top of the autoclave where he’d draped it and settled his hat on his head. “Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

She smiled weakly. That’s exactly what she was afraid of.

THE TEMPERATURE had dropped and snow had begun to fall by the time Rory walked the couple of blocks to the church. Already the big flakes had covered the bare spots in his yard and turned Main Street slick with the white stuff. If this kept up, as predicted, they’d have a foot of snow by morning. Maybe more. Add some wind and let it snow for a few days, and the disaster-planning folks would have something to do with their time.

Helluva spring thaw.

When he reached the church, he glanced around to see if he could spot Kristi walking or her SUV in the parking lot. No such luck.

The rec hall adjacent to the church felt hot compared to the outdoors, and Rory shrugged out of his jacket. Eric was up front talking with Reverend McDuffy, a gray-haired preacher who managed to mix practical wisdom with his biblical messages.

Joe Moore, who owned the general store, was chatting with Harold Hudson, the local pharmacist. Pauline Bennett, who’d inherited her husband’s plumbing business stood off to the side. She had access to a backhoe that could be needed in a snow emergency and knew how to fix frozen pipes.

“Hey, Pauline,” Rory said.

“Hey, yourself. Heard Kristi Kerrigan is back in town.”

“Yep.” If the phone lines went down in Grass Valley, the entire town would dry up with no gossip to feed on.

“She was such a sweet girl. I remember that summer when she visited her grandmother and you two were—”

“I’ve gotta talk with Eric. Excuse me.” With little grace, he veered away from Pauline. God, had everyone in town known he and Kristi were involved? He supposed so. Being discreet probably hadn’t been on his mind. Still, you’d think after all these years people would forget. Their whole affair had only lasted six weeks.

Not that he had forgotten a minute of it.

The door to the rec room opened again, bringing with it a rush of cold air and Kristi, all bundled up in a ski jacket, her vibrant hair tucked under a knit cap. Her cheeks were red from the winter air. So was the tip of her nose. Rory couldn’t remember a more beautiful sight. An eye feast for a starving man.

He smiled. “Welcome to spring in Montana.”

“Spokane gets snow, too.”

“In April?”

“Well, not like this, I suppose.”

Eric called the half-dozen people in the room together before Rory could respond. “Let’s gather around, folks. I don’t want any of us to be out in this weather any longer than we need to be.”

They pulled some chairs together in a circle. Rory made sure he was sitting next to Kristi, their chairs nudging each other’s so there could be a chance brush of their thighs, denim to denim. A graze of his forearm across hers, sweater to sweater. She wasn’t married. Available, according to Doc Justine. What was the matter with the guys in Spokane? Why hadn’t one of them snapped her up by now? Not that he wasn’t grateful for a second chance.

Distracted by the sweet fragrance of Kristi’s apple-scented shampoo, Rory had trouble following Eric’s comments. The only emergency he felt was the strain against the fly of his jeans. It’d be damn embarrassing to pop the zipper just sitting here. He’d have to fake it, saying something about how they don’t make zippers like they used to. Nobody would believe him, though. They’d know damn well he still had the hots for Kristi. He always had.

Slowly he became aware the room had gone quiet. He looked around to find everyone staring at him.

“So what do you think?” Eric prodded.

“Um, about what?”

Eric made a vague gesture with his hands suggesting he knew Rory hadn’t been listening. “Are we going to have cattle getting into trouble in this storm?”

Rory straightened in his chair. “Not if the ranchers have been paying attention to the weather reports. They’ll bring the cows into their home pastures.” He glanced toward Pauline. “Some of them might still need your backhoe to get in to feed them but mostly I’d say they’ll be okay.”

Joe Moore said, “In my experience, it’s folks that do something stupid in a bad storm, not dumb animals.”

“Let’s hope everybody has enough sense to stay off the roads,” Eric commented. “I don’t have any urge to start digging folks out of snowbanks.”

“There’re a couple of families that live hand-to-mouth,” Joe said. “If the storm lasts too long they could be in trouble, and the phone lines will go down first thing.”

Reverend McDuffy spoke up. “I’ll get the cots out and ready in case we need to use the rec room as a shelter.”

“I can use my snowmobile to transport supplies or people if they need to get to the shelter,” Rory volunteered.

“Or if they’re injured,” Kristi added, “you can bring them to the clinic.”

Harold finally spoke up. “I’ve got a good supply of pharmaceuticals on hand for anybody who gets sick.”

“Right.” Eric nodded and glanced around the room. “I’ll keep that in mind. But let’s hope things don’t get that bad. Well, it looks like we have our ducks in a row. Unless anyone can think of something else, I think we’re done here. Thanks for coming tonight.”

Rory didn’t want to drag out the meeting any longer than necessary, and he stood when the rest of the group did.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked Kristi.

“I drove, thanks.”

“Oh, okay. You got chains?”

“Snow tires and four-wheel drive.” She made for the door. “I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe I should drive you. It was really coming down hard before the meeting.”

She nailed him with an annoyed look. “It’s all of two blocks back to the clinic, and I have driven in snow before, Rory. I’ll manage.”

He grimaced. “Right. You’ll be fine. I was just thinking how cold and wet I’m going to get walking back to my place. But that’s okay. I’m used to this kind of weather.”

Her blue eyes cut through him like lasers. “You’re trying to make me feel sorry for you, aren’t you?”

“No, not me.” He fought a grin. “Well, maybe a little.”

She threw up her hands in defeat. “Oh, all right. Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

“Want me to follow you, Kristi?” Eric asked. “The roads are a mess.”

She visibly clenched her teeth. “I think I can make it.”

“And you don’t need any protection from my brother?”

“Not in this lifetime,” she muttered, stalking toward the door.

Making a fist, Rory make a threatening gesture toward his brother. “Follow us at your own risk, White Eyes.”

Eric only laughed, and Rory hustled to catch up with Kristi.

The truck had the advantage of getting them out of the wind, but it was still icy cold. The seats crackled with it, and their breath fogged the inside of the windshield. The wipers struggled to clear the snow away, leaving frozen half circles on the glass.

“So do you work at a hospital in Spokane?” he asked as Kristi let the engine warm up.

“Actually, it’s a low-income clinic. We serve mostly itinerant workers. I see the patients first and handle routine problems like colds and flu or stitching up a cut. More serious injuries I refer to the doctor.”

“So you’re practically a doctor.”

She glanced at him, then shifted into gear. The headlights bounced off the curtain of falling snow as she eased forward. “The American Medical Association doesn’t see it that way.”

Behind them Rory noticed the headlights of Eric’s four-wheel-drive patrol cruiser snap on. There were some serious disadvantages to having brothers who tended to stick their noses into a man’s business. Not that Rory wouldn’t do the same, given a chance.

Leaving the parking lot, the rear end of Kristi’s truck slid sideways before the tires caught hold. She handled the skid with skill and followed the tracks left by Joe Moore’s vehicle when he’d preceded them out of the lot.

“How long before the plow comes by?” she asked.

“They concentrate on the Interstate. In a storm like this, it might be days before we see a county plow. Some of the locals usually get out their Jeeps with a scoop on the front to keep things moving here in town. Nobody bothers with the ranch roads.” Which is why his brother Walker hadn’t come into town for the emergency meeting. Too much chance of getting stuck.

“I’m glad I got Grandma home before all this mess started,” Kristi said.

So was Rory. He’d hate to think of Kristi out on the highway with this much snow falling. It would be too easy to go off the road or get stranded with no one to help her.

“Why don’t you pull in at your grandmother’s place? It’d be easier and I can walk across the street.”

“Your veterinary clinic is that close?”

“Yep. Only a couple of patients have gotten the two clinics mixed up though. I take their temperature, give ’em a rabies shot and send them home. Haven’t had any complaints.”

She sputtered a laugh. “That’s probably because none of them survived.”

Deep snow made the turn into the medical clinic drive a challenge, but Kristi made it just fine, parking near the front door. Rory admired her skill even as he wanted to linger in her company.

They both got out, and Kristi started up the steps to the porch.

“I’ll come in with you. Just to make sure the doc’s okay.” And maybe he’d talk Kristi into making a pot of hot chocolate. It was a perfect night for cuddling in front of a fire, listening to a little music. Making out.

“I haven’t been gone long. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Kristi opened the door, and Justine’s voice carried out to the porch.

“How long has he been unconscious?”

A woman responded over the sputter of static on the emergency radio set up in the clinic. Justine stood beside the radio, a crutch under one arm and the microphone in her hand.

As Rory listened to the conversation, he realized Doc Justine had a patient in trouble—Everett Durfee, who lived with his wife, Jane, in a remote cabin miles from town.

Rory suspected this was likely to be a long night for everyone when headlights flashed across the front windows of the clinic. He knew Eric had heard the tail end of the same emergency transmission on his car radio, and he’d come to the doc’s place to deal with the crisis.

When illness struck in this weather, isolation was more than a lifestyle choice. It became a life-and-death issue. And could put more than one person at risk.

Cuddling with Kristi and a pot of hot chocolate no longer seemed a possibility.

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