The Temptation of Dr. Colton

by Karen Whiddon

  Ignoring his sister’s eagle-eyed stare, he took MW’s arm and led her down the hallway to his spare room, which thankfully his cleaning service kept ready for guests.

  Despite everything that had happened to her, and his insistent hold on her arm, she carried herself confidently. He noted the top of her head came up just underneath his chin.

  Perfect.

  “Here you go,” he told her, swallowing hard as he released her. “We’re going to need to get you some toiletries and clothes, too.”

  Consternation turned her eyes the color of storm clouds as she blinked up at him. Helpless to move, he again noticed the sensual rosebud shape of her mouth and the luxurious sweep of her dark brown eyelashes.

  “I have no money, no way to pay you back. At least, not right now.”

  Clothes. They’d been talking about clothing.

  “Then it’s a good thing I have plenty.” Unable to resist the urge to touch her again, he squeezed her shoulder. “Right now I don’t want you to worry about anything but getting better.”

  “Thank you, then.” And she moved away. Her yawn as she settled onto the bed told him she’d be out in minutes.

  He almost asked her if she wanted to take off the ill-fitting and ugly clothes, but the realization that she’d be naked if she did stopped him in his tracks. Once summoned, the image wouldn’t leave him. He had to throttle the rush of desire racing through him.

  Crud.

  Without saying another word, he left.

  After he closed the guest room door, he went into his living room, where Greta still waited for him, fairly bouncing up and down in her agitation. Today she wore her wavy dark hair in a ponytail and her usual jeans and cowboy boots, even though the temperature was pushing a hundred.

  “What the heck are you doing?” she whispered loudly. “If she’s your patient, aren’t you going to get into all kinds of legal trouble for doing this?”

  “She’s not my patient,” he told her back. “And I’m just helping out a fellow human being.”

  “A fellow...” She gave him a sidelong look. “I think I get it. This is an extension of your job to you, isn’t it?”

  Since his entire family all knew Eric lived and breathed for his work, he nodded. “Yes. I was there, I saw the car hit her. I can’t just turn her out on the street with no memory and let her fend for herself. I’ve asked Ryan to personally work on finding out what we can about her.”

  Greta’s skeptical expression told him she still wasn’t entirely buying into his story. “Okay. Couldn’t you have turned her over to adult Social Services or something?”

  “Not without knowing her identity.”

  “What if she’s a criminal? She could be a bank robber or a murderess, for all you know.”

  He laughed. “When you hear the sound of hooves, don’t look for zebras. It’s usually a herd of horses.”

  “What?”

  “It’s an old medical school saying. What seems obvious usually is. MW was just a very unlucky woman. Some idiot was in a hurry and ran a light and hit her. I believe it won’t be long until she’s back to normal. Until then, she’s welcome to stay here.”

  Continuing to study him, her hazel eyes dark, Greta finally nodded. “Okay. Then tell me how I can help,” she said.

  Relieved that he’d managed to sound convincing, he nodded. “Let’s go grab some lunch—we’ll bring something back for MW—and I’ll tell you.”

  “Okay.”

  Grinning, he took his sister’s arm. “What are you in the mood for?”

  She gave him a second sidelong glance. “We can go to the deli. I’ve been craving a panini.”

  They visited the little deli a block from his place. It wasn’t fancy, but the interior felt homey with the blue-and-white-checkered tables. Inside, the smell of cheese and pastrami and marinara made his mouth water. Eric loved their meatball subs. He exchanged a grin with his sister.

  Greta ordered a chicken pesto panini, which arrived perfectly cooked and smelling like heaven. If not for his own meatball sub, Eric might have stolen hers. “I’ll have to try that one next time,” he said, even though they both knew he wouldn’t. He always said he’d try something else, but stuck to the same sandwich. How could he resist perfection on a hoagie roll?

  All talk ceased while they both dug in, eating fast so they could get back to MW.

  When Greta had gotten engaged and she and their mother had started planning her wedding, his sister had been the happiest Eric had ever seen her. Then their house had been burglarized and Abra attacked, and the entire family had been thrown into a tailspin. Greta more than anyone else—as the only daughter, she and Abra had been particularly close.

  Now that Abra had been placed in a medically induced coma, Greta had put her entire life on hold. She and Abra had been in the middle of planning the wedding. Despite her fiancé’s pleas, Greta refused to move forward without her mother at her side.

  As a result, Greta’s usual zest for life had dimmed somewhat. All of her brothers worried about her and did whatever they could to cheer her up. Feeding her always seemed to work for Eric.

  As if she’d read his thoughts, Greta’s gaze studied him. “As far as distractions go, this one’s a biggie,” she commented. “You bringing a strange woman to stay in your town house. I know she’s pretty, but still...”

  He didn’t bother to pretend not to understand. “I know,” he answered. “I can hardly fathom it myself. But something about her... I couldn’t let her get put out into the street with no memory.”

  “They really do that?”

  “We treat a lot of Tulsa’s homeless population,” he said, blotting his mouth with his paper napkin. “There’s a limit to what we can do to assist them, especially if it’s not medical.”

  She frowned. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “Most people don’t. It’s a sad fact of life in the city.”

  “I’d like to help, too,” Greta said. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Eric didn’t even have to think before answering. “Are you available this afternoon?” When she nodded, he continued, “Good. Then take her shopping. She needs everything.”

  Greta’s eyes widened. She loved shopping. Next to training horses, shopping was her favorite activity. “Seriously?”

  “Yes.” Removing a credit card from his wallet, he handed it to her. “Use this. And buy yourself something, too.”

  Her eyes lit up, making him smile. Growing up, Greta had always been a tomboy. She hadn’t gotten into what he thought of as girlie things until she’d gotten engaged.

  At his smile, she shook her head, though she still accepted the credit card. “What’s your budget?”

  “Within reason. There’s no need to take her to fancy department stores. Just get her a few comfortable outfits that fit. A couple of pairs of shoes, pajamas, et cetera. You know better than I do what kind of things a woman needs.”

  Her grin turned wicked, warning him she was about to tease.

  “What about lingerie?” she drawled, drawing the word out so that it almost became four syllables rather than three.

  “Don’t.” He could still shut her down with a glare. Relenting, he softened his tone. “Don’t try to turn this into something it’s not, all right?”

  “Sorry.” Clearly unrepentant, she turned his credit card around in her hands, her hot-pink nail polish gleaming. “When you say to buy myself something nice, are you talking about a T-shirt or an entire outfit?”

  With pretend annoyance, he sighed loudly. “Fine. An outfit. Just don’t be too extravagant, okay?”

  “Yes.” She gave him a fist pump, then quickly tucked his credit card into her purse. “Do you think MW will feel up to shopping this afternoon? I mean, she just got out of the hospital today. I can’t do it tomorrow, b
ecause I have to go back to the ranch tonight and say goodbye to everyone. I’m heading home to Oklahoma City in the morning.”

  Hearing “home” and “Oklahoma City” in the same sentence sounded weird, though he didn’t say so.

  “All we can do is ask her. She should, since the only thing wrong with her is a slight concussion. I’m hoping she’ll be feeling much better when she wakes up from her nap. If not, then find out her size and go shopping without her. She has nothing but the clothes she’s wearing, and those apparently came from the hospital lost and found.”

  “That’s awful.” Greta grimaced. “But honestly, she didn’t look in too great of shape. You were practically carrying her to your front door.”

  He felt his face heat. “That’s my fault. She insisted she was fine, but I didn’t want to take a chance.”

  Narrow eyed, she watched him as if waiting for him to say more. Instead, he concentrated on finishing the last of his meal.

  Once every crumb had been devoured, instead of wanting to sit and chat like she normally did, Greta fidgeted.

  “I’d like to go back and check on MW,” she finally confessed. “If I’m going to be back at the ranch by suppertime, we need to get started on shopping.”

  After getting an extra meatball sub in case MW was hungry, he paid the bill and they headed back to his town house. Usually, Greta enjoyed strolling at a leisurely sauntering pace. Today, she moved with an unusual briskness in her step. Shopping, he thought. A lure she couldn’t resist.

  “You know,” Greta mused on the walk back, “I can finally see why you like living downtown so much.”

  He stared. For her entire life, his sister had loudly professed her love of the country to anyone who’d listen. When she’d moved away, everyone in the family had wondered how she’d survive life in Oklahoma City.

  “You do?” he asked. “How’s that?”

  Ducking her head, she gave a little shrug. “I don’t know, but I never thought about how nice it would be to be so convenient and close to everything. Sure, I miss the horses and the land, but this has its benefits, too.”

  He laughed, resisting the urge to say “I told you so.” “You’re preaching to the choir.”

  Back at the town house, the guest room door was still closed. “Let me go talk to her,” Greta said, shaking her head when he moved to follow. “Alone. Woman-to-woman. She might be slightly embarrassed over all this.”

  With a shrug, he acquiesced. “I’ll be out on the patio. I’ve got a few calls to take care of.”

  * * *

  Lying in a soft bed, MW smiled and stretched. Pure luxury. She had decided to use the moniker the kind doctor had given her, and the sheer bliss of the silence instead of constant hospital noises felt like heaven. She only hoped Eric was right about her memory returning soon. She had the constant niggling worry that it might be important she remember something, though she wasn’t sure what exactly.

  After dozing off, she must have fallen into a deep sleep, because she dreamed of cooking. She was working in a kitchen, a huge, modern, professional place, and whipping up some kind of risotto. Lobster risotto. The task involved a lot of stirring and just the right heat, but in this dream she was an old pro at this sort of thing.

  After the risotto finished, she had a beautiful beef Wellington cooking, waiting to be sliced.

  Bemused, she went with the flow. Just as she’d gotten the entire meal together to be served, a firm tapping on her door woke her. Blinking, she yawned and stretched. After a moment of panic as she tried to orient herself, she realized where she was. “Yes?”

  “May I come in?” Eric’s sister, Greta. Which meant they must be back from lunch. Her stomach growled as she remembered the sandwich Greta had promised.

  When MW answered in the affirmative, Greta bounced into the room. “How are you feeling?”

  Blinking, MW sat up, pushing her thick, wavy hair away from her face. “Hungry,” she answered honestly.

  “Oh.” Greta rushed out of the room. She returned a moment later carrying a brown paper sack. “Here you go.”

  The smell of marinara and meatballs made MW’s mouth water. She pushed herself up from the bed, relieved when the room didn’t spin. “This isn’t the kind of thing one eats in bed. Can you point me toward the kitchen?”

  Still smiling, Greta led the way. While Greta watched, MW devoured the sandwich, stopping just short of licking her fingers—it was honestly that good. She washed it down with bottled water.

  “Better now?” Greta asked. She’d been jiggling one leg up and down the entire time MW ate, as if she had something else she needed to do.

  “Yes, thank you.” MW looked around. “Where’s Eric?”

  “Out on the patio.” Greta pointed. “He needed to make some phone calls. I was wondering, do you feel good enough to go shopping?”

  “Shopping?” Bewildered, MW wasn’t sure how to respond. “I can’t. I have no money.”

  If anything, Greta’s smile widened. “That’s okay. I have a credit card with a very high limit.”

  Appalled, MW shook her head, feeling almost frantic. “No. I can’t take your charity.”

  “Not mine.” Greta laughed. “My brother’s. Eric asked me to take you. He’d like you to have something to wear.”

  “But—”

  “I’m sure you can pay him back once your memory returns. Either way, I’m going to buy you some clothes. It’d be a lot better—and more fun—if you came with me.”

  MW considered. Did she enjoy shopping? And did that even matter? Eric was right, she needed clothes, at least until she could remember. “I’d like to go,” she decided, but looked down at the ill-fitting and ugly sweat pants she wore. “But I don’t think I can go out like this.”

  “Greta, don’t you always keep workout clothes in your car?” Eric asked, startling them both.

  Hand to throat, MW spun around. He stood just inside the sliding glass door, watching them. Her entire body tingled at the sight of him, his light brown hair backlit by the sun, his green-eyed gaze intense.

  Greta looked from one to the other. “Yes, I do.” She sized MW up, her gaze considering. “And I think we might be close in size, but I’m a lot taller.”

  “Even so, anything is better than what she’s got,” Eric said, smiling softly at MW to lessen the sting of his words.

  Nodding, Greta hurried away while MW burned from shame.

  Eric caught sight of her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, coming closer. “Are you feeling all right?”

  She tried for indifference, but instead her eyes filled with stupid tears, which she hated. “Physically, I’m fine,” she replied. “But I have to say, I might not know who I am, but I know enough to realize I hate being a charity case. Borrowing an outfit is bad enough, but borrowing money to buy more clothes, when I’m not even sure I can repay you...”

  “Then don’t.” He seemed supremely unbothered. “One thing’s for sure, you’ve got enough to worry about without stressing over whether or not you can repay me. So let it go.”

  She opened her mouth, and then closed it. Because he was right. She had few options right now. Luckily, Greta reappeared, carrying a bright pink gym bag.

  “Here you go.” She shoved it at MW. “Go ahead and try something on.” Pointedly glancing at her watch, she sighed. “Then we need to get going. I’m on a pretty tight schedule.”

  Though Greta’s tone had been friendly, MW still flushed with embarrassment as she retreated to the bathroom. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she realized not only did she stand shorter than Greta, but was quite a bit curvier as well. As she opened the gym bag, she wondered if anything would actually fit.

  Luckily, the workout clothes were made of stretchy material and she was able to pull them on. She didn’t have sneakers—the battered pa
ir of flip-flops she’d been given by the hospital would have to do. Either way, this was a huge improvement on what she’d worn before. However, the tight workout outfit highlighted every curve. Almost embarrassingly so.

  Feeling oddly shy, she emerged from the bathroom.

  “You look great,” Greta crowed. “Doesn’t she, Eric?”

  He let his gaze rove over her, his eyes darkening. “Much better,” he finally said. She couldn’t make herself look away. The vitality he radiated drew her like a magnet.

  “Ahem.” Greta cleared her throat. “Are you ready?”

  Face heating yet again, MW nodded. “I am.”

  “Then let’s go. I’ve got to be back at the ranch at sundown.”

  MW quickly learned that shopping with Greta was an endurance event. For the next three hours, Greta dragged her from store to store. MW was shocked when she found herself imagining Eric’s reaction to each outfit she tried on. Pushing away those thoughts became as difficult as trying to examine the price tags and mentally calculate the cost. Each time she tried to broach the subject with Greta, Greta refused to discuss it.

  In the end, they purchased two dresses, three pairs of jeans, an assortment of T-shirts, blouses, bras and panties, socks, sneakers and two pairs of heels. Each time MW tried to protest, Greta just grinned and purchased the disputed item anyway.

  By the time Greta pronounced them done, both women were loaded down with bags and MW had begun to stagger with exhaustion. Greta glanced at her and did a double take.

  “I think we might have overdone it a little bit,” she muttered.

  “Just make sure and give me the total,” MW replied tiredly. “I’m going to keep track of everything so I can pay it back.”

  By the time they reached Eric’s street, MW’s stride was seriously lagging. The late-afternoon August heat made her feel dizzy. She also realized she hated to perspire. One more thing she remembered, which under normal circumstances would have energized her. Now she just longed for a cool shower.

  “Are you all right?” Greta asked, her voice sharp. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”