by Judy Duarte
“Just one more trip to the kitchen,” she said.
Upon her return, she carried a bowl filled with seasoned pork, the aroma making his mouth water with hunger.
“This looks amazing,” he said.
“I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” He pulled out a chair for her, and after she took a seat, he joined her.
As they filled their plates, he caught the sound of music playing softly in the background. Again, he wondered if she’d planned a romantic evening, but then let it go.
Instead, he dug in to his meal.
“You’re a great cook,” he said. “You ought to open a restaurant.”
She brightened and leaned forward. “You think so?”
“You bet I do. In fact, I used to believe my mother was the best Mexican cook ever, but I’m going to have to tell her she’s got some stiff competition.”
Tammy’s heart soared at the compliment. It seemed to be working, the meal, the romantic aura. Even the sunset seemed to be playing along.
She considered mentioning something about it, just in case he hadn’t noticed. But she figured it was best if she let nature take its course. So she picked up her fork, speared a piece of the seasoned meat and took a bite.
When they’d both finished eating, she asked, “Are you ready for dessert?”
“I’m stuffed and probably ought to pass, but if it’s as good as the carne asada, I’ll make room.”
Tammy smiled, then excused herself. When she returned with the flan she’d whipped up, Doc’s smile lit his face. “You’re going to spoil me, Tammy.”
That had been the plan all along. Doc had not only noticed her, but he also appreciated her, too. Could the future look any brighter than it did right now?
After he finished the dessert, he asked if he could help her with the dishes.
“No need,” she said. “I’ve got it all under control.”
At least, she had the kitchen stuff taken care of. The romantic goodbyes—if things went the way she hoped—were another thing.
Would he kiss her? Would he ask her out on a date—a real one?
The dream she’d had while sleeping in the feather bed had only been about a meal on the cabin porch. From here on out, Tammy was on her own.
“Well, then I’d better get going,” Doc said. “Thanks for dinner, Tammy. I’m glad you asked me.”
And she was glad he’d accepted. Too bad they had to call it a night.
“I’ll walk you to your pickup,” she said.
“All right.”
As they stepped down from the porch, Doc said, “Aren’t you going to put on your shoes?”
She paused a moment, her bare feet resting on the soft dirt. She’d gotten dressed in the cabin. And she’d brought the black heels more for effect than anything.
Dang. She wished she felt more confident walking in the fool things. She’d been practicing, of course, and she’d gotten better. But she wasn’t so sure how she’d do on a darkened dirt path.
“I’m not much of a wine drinker,” she admitted, offering him a smile, “so one glass made me feel so warm and cozy that I forgot I’d slipped off my shoes earlier.”
A part of that was true. The wine had given her a nice buzz. But thanks to the spell Doc cast on her whenever he was around, she’d felt that way before she’d had a single sip of merlot.
He waited while she returned to the cabin and put on the heels, then they walked together, following the pathway to the main house. Their steps were lit by a full moon, as well as the lighting on the outbuildings.
“I’m going to be making stuffed pork chops tomorrow,” Tammy said, “so I hope you’ll stick around after your visit.”
“I might take you up on that, but maybe we should play dinner by ear.”
She wasn’t sure why, but she nodded.
“Tex told me your uncle and your brothers are expected to arrive on Sunday, so he scheduled that family meeting at three.”
Tammy had known it would take place on Sunday, but she hadn’t known when.
“I plan to be here for the meeting,” Doc added. “Not in the room, of course. But I’ll be on the premises. I have a feeling the stress is going to put a strain on Tex, and I think I ought to be here—just in case he needs me.”
“That’s really thoughtful of you, Doc.”
He slowed to a stop, then turned to face her. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure.” She gazed into his eyes, amazed that he considered her a teammate of sorts. “What is it?”
“Would you call me Mike instead of Doc?”
As a slow smile snuck across her face, she tried to reel it in. “I didn’t know it bothered you to be called Doc.”
“I’m okay with it. That’s what everyone in Buckshot Hills calls me. But I have to admit, it took a little getting used to at first. My mom calls me Miguel. And my friends all call me Mike.”
So she’d become his friend. That was certainly a step in the right direction. After all, most people in Philadelphia probably called him Dr. Sanchez. At least he hadn’t asked her to be that formal.
When they reached his pickup, she feared that he would merely say goodbye, then open the driver’s door and slide behind the wheel. Her heart ached at the thought of losing him so soon, before she had a chance to tell him that she...
What? That she loved him? Goodness, she hardly knew him. Yet she had no idea what she was truly feeling for him. It felt so much stronger than a girlish crush.
“Thanks again for dinner,” he said. “It was delicious.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it...Mike.”
He stood there for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. And she really couldn’t blame him. Her future seemed to be hanging in the balance. At least, right now, as the intensity of his gaze darn near stole the breath right out of her, it certainly felt that way.
When she thought she might die from the silence, from the temptation, from the swarm of pheromones that swirled overhead, he reached out and ran his knuckles along her cheek.
The heat of his touch tingled to the bone, and her knees nearly buckled.
“I may regret this later,” he said softly.
Regret what?
Her heart pounded in anticipation, not daring to hope, to dream, to...
Just like a dream come true, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Chapter Eight
Mike hadn’t meant to do much more than give Tammy a simple good-night kiss, but as his lips brushed hers, as she stepped into his embrace and slipped her arms around his neck, their lips met in an explosion of stars that would put the fireworks at a Fourth of July celebration to shame.
Who would have guessed that the seemingly innocent girl could kiss like that?
As his tongue swept inside her mouth, seeking, touching, tasting, her breath caught. He drew her closer, and she leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his chest.
A jolt of heat shot through his bloodstream, unleashing a flood of desire.
He reminded himself that the physical reaction was merely biological. He’d gone without sex for months, so it was only natural to feel such an amazing arousal with a single kiss.
So while he was sorely tempted to continue kissing her until she suggested they turn around, return to the cabin and see where all this confounding attraction would lead, a sexual relationship would only complicate their lives right now. So he drew back.
When he loosened his embrace, Tammy swayed on her feet as if she’d been every bit as caught up in the hunger and heat as he’d been. So he reached for her again, holding her steady.
At least, that’s the excuse he claimed for not letting go, for taking another moment to breathe in her citrusy scent—lemon blossoms, he suspected.
A beat or two later, when he figured she’d regained her balance, he released her and took a step back.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You didn’t?” Suspicion glimmered in her eyes.
“Okay. So I did. But I didn’t mean to let it get so out of hand.”
“Don’t be sorry about kissing me.” She tossed him a wistful smile. “I’m glad that you did.”
Yeah, well, in a way, he was, too. But it had been flat-ass crazy and not very well planned out.
For a guy who couldn’t wait to get out of Buckshot Hills—and who had no intention of striking up a brief affair with his patient’s granddaughter—he’d certainly tripped up by giving Tammy a kiss better suited for lovers. She was bound to expect more from him after that.
Hell, even he wanted more at this point...no matter how complicated things might get.
They stood like that for a moment, the kiss hovering over them like a pending cloudburst.
Would a brief affair really be such a bad idea? After all, Mike was getting tired of spending his nights alone. And he still had no idea when he could even set a date for his flight home.
If Tammy’s kiss meant anything, she wasn’t a novice at sex. And she’d clearly been making the moves on him.
Maybe a sexual fling for the duration of his time in Texas wouldn’t be so bad. After all, they were both adults.
Who would it hurt?
No one, he thought.
Yet something told him that might not be true. That Tammy might not fare as well with a breakup as he would. And he didn’t want to hurt her. She’d become too...special, he supposed. So he took the high road.
“I’d better go,” he said.
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Again she smiled. And this time he noted a glimpse of innocence, of...virginity?
Or was that an act?
Who was this woman? A virgin tomboy or a skilled lover stringing him along with feigned innocence?
He’d be damned if he knew.
Either way, she belonged on a ranch—either in Buckshot Hills or elsewhere. And Mike belonged back East, in Philadelphia, at a top-notch hospital.
“Don’t forget about the pork chops,” she said, smiling. “And lemon meringue pie for dessert.”
“Let’s see what tomorrow brings,” he said, not wanting to commit to anything while memories of that arousing kiss had yet to die down.
But damn. He’d always been partial to lemon meringue pie.
Not to mention a newfound fondness for the scent of lemon blossoms on soft, silky skin....
* * *
As Tammy stood in the yard and watched Doc—or rather, Mike—climb into his pickup, her lips still tingled from that soul-stirring good-night kiss they’d shared.
Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined kissing Mike would be like that, feel like that, taste like that....
As he’d gazed in her eyes, the night air had sparked with anticipation. She’d sensed it coming, and the strangest thing had happened. Any insecurity she might have had earlier disappeared in the moonlight. And her hormones and instincts had suddenly kicked into gear.
Her arms had lifted of their own accord, and she’d slipped them around his neck. If she hadn’t leaned into him, she might have collapsed into a heap on the ground.
She’d feared she’d never get enough of him, and she hadn’t. Much to her regret, the kiss had ended long before she was ready.
Mike had thanked her for dinner and said goodbye. Then, without a single comment about the star-spinning kiss they’d shared, he’d climbed behind the wheel of his pickup and turned on the ignition.
Now, as she watched his taillights disappear down the darkened drive, she took a deep breath, then returned to the cabin, where she went through the motions of cleaning up.
When she had everything spic and span, she decided against returning to the ranch house. Instead, she slipped out of her dress and hung it in the closet. Then, wearing only her undies, she climbed into the feather bed, with its fresh linen, and settled onto the soft mattress, willing another nocturnal vision to come her way.
Yet even though she’d fallen asleep while reliving the evening, basking in the memory of Mike’s disarming smile, the spark in his caramel-hued eyes, the taste of his mouth, heat of his touch, the sandman hadn’t cooperated.
The next morning, after a dreamless night, she awoke feeling refreshed, yet disappointed.
Had she already tapped the last bit of magic out of the feather bed? Was there a one-dream limit per person?
She had no idea, but she wouldn’t let the possibility mar her plans for the day. She had another dinner to plan, another romantic evening to create. She also had a family meeting to look forward to. Sunday had dawned, and her uncle and her brothers would be arriving soon.
Since she didn’t have time to waste daydreaming, she threw back the coverlet and got to her feet. After making the bed, she slipped into her dress, picked up her high heels and headed for the house in her bare feet.
She’d no more than entered the yard when a white, late-model Cadillac drove up and parked. She watched a middle-age man climb out. She didn’t have to ask who he was. He looked enough like her father to be his brother.
And clearly, that’s just who he was: Sam Houston Byrd.
“Hi there,” Tammy said. “I assume you’re my uncle.”
Sam waited a beat before answering. “If you’re right, then you must be William’s daughter.”
She offered him a warm, let’s-put-the-past-behind-us smile and reached out for a handshake. “Tamara Kay Byrd. But everyone calls me Tammy.”
He accepted her hand with a firm grip, but didn’t return her smile. “Is your dad here yet?”
Before she could nod or respond, footsteps sounded at the side of the house. She turned to see her father walking into the yard, carrying a coffee mug. The moment he laid eyes on his brother, he stopped dead in his tracks. His stance stiffened.
The air grew so thick with silent emotion—anger, distrust, resentment?—that it nearly stole the breath right out of Tammy. Yet neither man spoke to the other.
As she struggled to make sense of it all—and to think of something to say to lighten things up—Sam headed toward the house. When he’d gone inside, her father scanned the length of her, taking in the dress she wore and the high heels she held in one hand.
Tammy had never gone to any of her high school proms, so she’d never even had an opportunity to come home late. But she suspected the look her dad was giving her now was pretty close to what she would have gotten if she’d snuck into the house as a teenager and found him waiting for her in the wee hours of the morning.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked.
“I slept in the cabin last night.”
“Why?”
“I...just dozed off.”
Again he scanned her length, from her bed-head hair to her bare feet and back up again. His brow furrowed as if she were sixteen and the clock had just chimed 4:00 a.m.
Goodness. Did he think she’d had a romantic encounter in the cabin?
Well, she had...sort of. But not the kind he was probably imagining...nor the kind she hoped to have with Mike someday soon.
He crossed his arms and cocked his head. “You weren’t meeting up with one of the ranch hands, were you?”
One of the hands? Absolutely not. And while she’d always been a daddy’s girl, had always shared a closeness, she didn’t think she owed him an explanation. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Dad.”
“I can see that.” He gave her a paternal once-over, softening it seemed. “I had no idea just how much until I watched a metamorphosis occur on the Flying Byrd.”
“I have my cousins to thank for that.”<
br />
He paused a beat, as if realizing all Tammy had missed while growing up, all she’d missed because of the family feud. Then he said, “I’m glad you girls have hit it off.”
Was he really? Even though they were Sam’s daughters?
“I’m glad, too. Jenna and Donna are really sweet.” And they’d accepted her as one of them—women, not just Byrds. “I hope you’ll take time to get to know them.”
He didn’t respond, and as she turned toward the house, he stopped her. “You said you slept in one of the cabins last night. Which one?”
“Savannah’s. The one with the feather bed.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say when she’d thrown out Savannah’s name. And for a moment, she thought the tall, broad-shouldered rancher she’d always looked up to might crack and crumble.
Then he rallied. “What in the hell were you doing in there? That cabin has been locked up for years.”
“I know. But Grandpa Tex said I could open it up and clean it out.”
At that, he drew up and stiffened. Yet he didn’t respond.
“Is there some reason you wish that cabin would have stayed locked?” she asked.
He blew out a sigh, and his stance shifted. “No. Not really.” Then he turned and walked back in the same direction from which he’d come.
Tammy merely watched him go.
Three o’clock, she told herself. Just six or seven more hours. Then she’d probably have the answers to her questions about her father, her uncle and the mysterious Savannah, who’d torn the Byrd family in two.
And surely Savannah had done just that.
Was there any other assumption for Tammy to make?
In the meantime, she would take a shower and dress for the day. Then she’d prepare another romantic dinner for Mike.
And she’d also come up with a surefire way to win his heart.
* * *
Nathan and Aidan, Tammy’s brothers, arrived at the Flying B a little after the lunch hour. Tina, who must have been waiting for them, showed them to the cabin in which they’d be staying.
Tammy had been pleased to learn that they’d been assigned a place that was fairly close to the ranch house—and quite a ways from the dream cabin, where she and Mike would be eating tonight.
