He reached out and let his fingers slide down the satin of her cheek. "I guess that's going to have to be good enough for now." He leaned toward her, and the sledgehammer of pain hit his head again.
She saw him wince, and the mood was shattered. "Connor, I'm sorry," she cried. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I shouldn't have kept you standing out here."
She slid her arm around his waist again, the objective, impersonal nurse firmly back in control. He wanted to protest, tell her that he was fine, but suddenly it took all his strength to get into the house.
When she finally eased him down on the bed he lay there, his eyes closed. His body was telling him just what it thought of all his exertions today. In just a few moments he would get undressed and get into bed, he promised himself.
"Are you all right?"
She sounded worried, and he forced his eyes open. Her face hovered just above him. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just tired."
"Do you need help getting undressed?" It was too dark in the room to see her face, but he felt the heat from her blush. For a moment, he was tempted to say yes. Just the thought of her helping him slide the jeans down his legs had him tensing, though, and he scowled. "I can manage, thanks."
She straightened, looking down at him. "All right, then, I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Connor."
With a soft click she shut the door and he was alone. He unbuttoned his jeans, pulled them off and let them slide onto the floor. He had enough energy left to pull back the quilt on the bed before he fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
Sarah pulled a brush through her tangled curls and stared at her face in the bathroom mirror. The angry scratches were fading, but deep purple circles shadowed her eyes, the legacy of three sleepless nights. The other reminders of the past three days with Connor were invisible but no less real.
Connor was a man who would tolerate nothing less than the truth, and for the first time in twelve years she doubted her sister's version of that truth. She closed her eyes, trying to hold on to her faith in Barb, but Connor's face kept intruding. His anger when she'd accused him of leaving town to avoid his responsibilities, his pain when she'd told him about Barb's death, even the sorrow when he'd said he loved her sister looked back at her.
He couldn't be telling the truth, she told herself desperately. He needed an ally against the rest of her family, and he'd figured out that she was the one to choose. Somehow he had smelled the conflict between her and her uncle and had decided to exploit it.
Even as she was trying to convince herself that was all it was, another part of her resisted. Whatever he had been at the age of eighteen, she sensed he was an honorable man now. She'd seen it in his eyes, in his refusal to endanger her. He couldn't be trying to use her.
She walked slowly down the stairs to the clinic, wondering if he was awake yet. It was early, and the sun was still hidden behind the mountains. The pearly light filled the clinic waiting room as she turned to go to her desk, and she hesitated
With everything that had been happening for the past few days, patient records were piling up on her desk at an alarming rate. She really needed to spend some time this morning and get the mess straightened out, but the room where Connor slept drew her like a magnet.
The records could wait for a few minutes, she told herself. Connor had been exhausted last night, and she needed to make sure he was all right.
Knocking softly on his door, she waited for an answer. When none came, she opened it silently and looked into the room.
He was sprawled over the bed, clad only in a T-shirt and briefs. Orange ones. Swallowing hard, she told herself to pull up the sheet. Rooted to the floor, she watched for a moment as he murmured something in his sleep and flung his arms in the air. Sweat beaded his forehead and she saw him wince with pain when he shook his head.
The next second she was on her knees next to the bed, holding on firmly to his hands. "Connor, wake up," she murmured.
He moved his head again, muttering unintelligible words. Letting go of his hands, she cupped his face gently between her hands. "You're having a bad dream. Wake up."
His hands covered hers and held on tight. Sinking back on her heels, she watched him struggle out of the depths of the dream. A fierce protectiveness swept over her and she twisted her hands to hold onto his. Someone had tried to kill him, not once but twice, and she wasn't going to let that happen again.
His eyes blinked open and softened as he focused on her. The ghost of a smile curving his mouth, he murmured, "Sarah."
Freeing one of her hands, she brushed a few strands of hair off his forehead. "You were having a nightmare. Are you okay now?"
"You're here, aren't you?"
She looked at him sharply, but he slid to a sitting position on the bed and tugged on her hand until she sat down next to him.
"I want you to tell me something. Why did you come looking for me yesterday?"
Trying to pull her hand away, she shrugged and said, "I was afraid something had happened to you. Since you're my patient, I felt some responsibility for you."
"The last thing you want is having me back here in Pine Butte. Don't bother to deny it," he said matter-of-factly when she opened her mouth to protest. "You've told me you think I'm responsible for Barb's death, and I have a serious difference of opinion with your family."
He paused and watched her carefully. "It would have been so much easier for you to forget about me, to just assume that I'd decided to leave town. No one could have blamed you in the least if I'd died up there in the mountains. I'm not your responsibility." His voice softened to a low murmur. "So why did you come after me?"
"Like I said, you're a patient—"
"Forget the patient garbage," he interrupted. "How many of your other patients have you chased up into the mountains?"
Heat swept into her face and she looked at her hands, still lying in his. "None of them. But all my other patients have families here in town to take care of them." She looked at him, meeting his gaze, knowing her cheeks were still red.
"I'm glad you're going beyond the call of duty for me, Sarah. It makes me think there's still some hope."
His voice was low and raspy and incredibly sexy. The gold of the hoop dangling from his left ear gleamed in the pale morning light. His blue eyes darkened to the color of midnight, and he reached out one hand to cup her face.
"Is there, Sarah?" He drew her head closer to his. "Any hope for me?"
"Connor," she murmured, mesmerized by the naked longing in his blue eyes. The heat from his body warmed her and she was powerless to resist. God help her, nothing had ever felt this right before.
His hand tightened in her hair as his mouth touched hers. But instead of the rough possession of his other kiss, this time his lips glided across hers with a gentleness she didn't expect.
She had steeled herself against the surging desire. She had no protection against the sweetness.
His lips brushed against hers with the faint touch of a butterfly's wings. Nibbling, stroking, caressing, he swept past all the barriers she had thrown up against him.
With an inarticulate murmur, she slid closer to him and twined her arms around his neck. The hard wall of his chest tensed and his arms tightened around her. The thin cotton sheet was no barrier at all between them, and she felt the heat of his arousal burn into her thigh.
For the first time since he'd arrived in Pine Butte she realized he could be vulnerable, too. Something inside him had opened, even if just a crack, and he needed her. It might have been only physical, it might have been just an easing of his body's needs, but somehow she suspected that he would have resisted even that if he could.
He'd had a nightmare, she told herself. He'd awoken with the barriers down and she'd been there to give him comfort. It didn't matter. None of it did. For right now, he needed her and that was all that was important.
Because she needed him, too. When he sought her mouth with hot, drugging kisses, she opened to him eagerly. All rational t
hought had disappeared at the first touch of his hands. The sensations that exploded in her abdomen and bubbled through her veins had nothing to do with thinking. She felt as if she had been waiting forever for Connor to make her whole.
His restless hands tugged the tail of her blouse out of her jeans and smoothed over her back. When she arched into his touch, he groaned and her mouth greedily swallowed the sound.
Suddenly she couldn't wait another moment to touch him. Slipping her hands under his T-shirt, she combed through the soft hair on his chest, exploring the shape of his muscles with her fingertips. Heated by passion, his skin burned. His muscles quivered and tensed, and he roughly jerked her hands away from him and held them together in one trembling hand.
His mouth plundered hers, his tongue sweeping in and tasting every secret corner. He made no effort to hide the extent of his desire, rocking his hips against her as he held her close with iron-muscled arms.
She barely recognized herself. Sarah Wesley didn't act like a wanton around any man. Her legs fell apart as she tried to press closer to him. Twining around him, she lifted her hands to his hair, feeling the thick, springy silk slide through her fingers. As she kissed him with a desperation she'd never felt before, her fingers traced the contours of his face as though she could memorize him with her hands.
His arms tightened suddenly around her and held her still. After a moment, she heard the sounds in the clinic and stiffened in horror.
"It's Josie, my assistant," she gasped. "Let me go."
"In a minute. Look at me, Sarah," he whispered.
She raised her eyes to him and stared at his face. His features were sharpened by passion and frustration. Then his arms tightened around her and he brushed a few tendrils of hair away from her face, his finger gently tracing the ugly scratches.
"I can't let you go yet." He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, lingering at the corner of her lips. "This is the last thing I wanted, you know," he muttered. "I was determined to hate every Wesley in Pine Butte."
She could only suspect how much the admission had cost him. It wouldn't be easy for Connor to admit he needed anybody or anything. Passion burned white-hot inside her, but she pulled away slowly.
"I wasn't exactly looking to get involved with Barb's old boyfriend, myself." She said the words more for herself than him, and she couldn't keep the pain out of her voice.
His hands slid down her arms slowly, reluctantly, caressing every inch of skin along the way. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I just couldn't resist. When I woke up from the nightmare, you were there. You were all I could see or think of." His eyes still flamed with desire as his thumbs brushed the skin on her wrists. "I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again."
Disappointment stabbed like an icicle in her chest, but she nodded. "That would probably be best."
Finally letting her go, he shifted in the bed and rearranged the sheet covering his lap. "I won't be here long, Sarah. I don't want to give you any false hopes or expectations. Pine Butte isn't my home anymore. It never could be again."
"I understand, Connor." She tried to smile, painfully. "Thank you for being so honest."
She began to back off the bed, but he grabbed her hands and held them in an almost painful grip. "Sarah, I'm sorry. If I thought you were the kind of woman who indulged in a quick toss in the sheets…" He sighed, running his fingers through his hair and leaving it standing straight up. "I know you're not that kind of woman. Hell, that's why this can't happen again. But that doesn't stop me from wanting you."
"You don't have to explain, Connor." She tried to get away again, but his grip was like iron.
"There is no explanation except that I'm a damn fool." The bitterness in his voice would have had her going to him if he hadn't held her so tightly away from him. Suddenly he dropped her hand as if it burned. "You'd better get out of here before your assistant gets curious," he said gruffly.
Slowly she stood and walked to the door. Turning, she watched him for a moment. He looked everywhere but at her.
"Shall I get you something from Earlene's for breakfast?"
Finally he met her eyes. "No, thanks. I think I'll walk over there." His mouth tightened to a grim line. "It'll be interesting to see who's surprised to see me alive."
Her hand tightened on the doorknob. "Do you want me to go with you?" He was getting ready to take on the whole town and he could barely walk yet.
His face softened and he watched her for a moment. "Not this morning," he said softly. "This morning I need some honest responses from the good citizens here in Pine Butte."
"Connor," she cried, "don't do anything stupid. Give yourself a day or two to recover."
He actually laughed. "Then it's all right to do something stupid? Sarah, I'm just having breakfast. That's it, nothing more than that. Okay?"
He might be smiling at her, but the determination in his eyes was unshakable. "All right," she answered unhappily. "Promise me you'll come back after you eat and rest for a while."
"I can't. I told you last night that I have to have some answers. I'm not going to get them lying here on this bed."
"This is Saturday," she said, thinking quickly. "The clinic closes at noon. If you can wait that long, I'll come with you to do whatever you want."
"As my guardian angel?"
"To help you," she answered steadily. "I told you last night that I would, and I meant it."
"All right." He'd given up too easily, and she looked at him with suspicion. "I'll wait for you."
"Connor…" She looked at him once more, then sighed. "I'll see you later."
A half hour later, Connor walked slowly out of the clinic. Sarah's waiting room was already half full, and he beat down a tinge of guilt about leaving. What he was, how he could help her, was no part of the equation. Anything the people of Pine Butte found out about him could be used against him sometime in the future.
When he walked in the door at Earlene's he saw that the restaurant was crowded. There was a momentary lull in the noise level when people spotted him, then they began talking again just a little too loud. It was almost enough to make him think they were ashamed of their curiosity, he thought with scorn.
Sliding into a vacant booth, he turned over the coffee cup and waited for the Saturday morning waitress to fill it. She gave him a tentative smile and said, "What can I get for you?"
"Pancakes, eggs and bacon."
"Coming right up." She gave him another smile and moved off, pouring a cup of coffee for the people in the next booth before going to the counter and giving Earlene the order.
Connor leaned against the rigid back of the booth and watched her for a moment. She'd treated him like just another customer, he realized. She hadn't even looked back at him after she'd given his order to Earlene, as she would have if she'd mentioned him to the restaurant owner.
Slowly he looked around the small restaurant. No one else looked as if they were paying any attention to him at all. Maybe Sarah was right, he thought slowly. Maybe his arrival was just a two-day wonder. It would have been unusual, he acknowledged reluctantly, for the people here not to be curious about him. After all, he had left town twelve years ago and none of them had heard from him since.
No one was staring at him with the animosity he'd expected since he woke up in Sarah's clinic. He wondered if that had anything to do with Sarah. Was it because everyone knew he was staying at the clinic so they'd decided he was okay? Had Sarah somehow given him the stamp of approval by letting him stay there?
Not everyone in the restaurant was oblivious to his presence. His shoulders itched with an unmistakable warning, and he turned around suddenly. Harley Harrison, the foreman at the Wesley mine, was staring at him from a table in the back. When he saw Connor turn around he looked away, but not before Connor saw the fear, quickly masked, in his eyes.
He stared at Harley for a moment, but the older man refused to look at him again. Talking to a woman Connor assumed was his wife, he concentrated on his breakfast and his conversation.
Slowly Connor turned around in the booth and raised his coffee cup to take a drink. He'd have to make a point of talking to Harley. The foreman of the Wesley mine should have no reason to be afraid of him. Scorn and arrogance would have been what he'd expected, and would have been more in keeping with what he remembered of the man.
By the time Connor's breakfast arrived, Harley and his wife had paid their bill and left the restaurant. No one said anything to him, but he didn't feel any more stares drilling into his back, either. A half hour later, when he walked out the door into the sunshine, he looked around Pine Butte with thoughtful eyes.
* * *
Chapter 7
«^»
It was a slow Saturday morning at the clinic, and Sarah ducked into her small office for a cup of coffee between patients. Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes for a minute and thought about all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
Connor thought his father had been murdered. The fact that someone had tried to kill Connor not once but twice made that unpalatable idea a distinct possibility. Acid in her stomach churned with the coffee to make her feel slightly nauseated, and she abruptly slammed the chipped mug onto her desk. She was at work, for heaven's sake. She couldn't afford to get sidetracked now.
Once she started thinking about Connor, she knew just where her mind would wander. Keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the office door, she refused to glance toward the clinic bedroom. What happened between her and Connor that morning was the last thing she could afford to worry about right now. She still had several patients scheduled and needed to have her mind clear.
"Sarah!" Josie burst through the doorway and stood in front of her, her face lit by an almost unbearable excitement. "You'll never guess who's in the waiting room!"
Pushing her chair away from the desk, Sarah stood up wearily. "If it's not a doctor who wants to take over the practice, I don't want to hear about it."
"But it is," Josie answered.
Sarah stopped dead in her tracks and stared at her assistant, feeling the blood drain from her face. "That's not a joke I consider funny, Josie."
AN INNOCENT MAN Page 9
