The Temptation of Dr. Colton

by Karen Whiddon

  She stopped short when she saw his little black sports car. “That’s yours?”

  Not sure what to make of her frown, he nodded.

  “It looks expensive.”

  He saw no reason to lie. “It was.”

  Turning to eye him, she appeared puzzled. “I didn’t peg you for a Porsche guy.”

  Amused, he shrugged. “What did you think I’d drive, a Ford F150 pickup?” Since that’s what they drove on the ranch.

  “I don’t know.” Her frown deepened. “It’s really frustrating, not knowing anything.”

  “I imagine. Go ahead and get in.”

  He enjoyed watching her climb into the low-slung vehicle. And as he took his seat behind the wheel, something felt right, watching her buckle herself in.

  His.

  This stopped him short. Go with the flow, he reminded himself. Tonight he’d treat her and they’d have a good time. No sense spoiling it by worrying about something he had no control over.

  On the drive across town to Tres Hombres, he pointed out landmark buildings, even though if she had lived in Tulsa any time at all, she probably already knew about them. Or would, once her memory came back.

  “That’s the Ambassador Hotel.” He slowed at the corner of 14th and Main. “Built in 1929.”

  She looked and nodded. “Pretty.”

  Since the old building was more interesting than pretty, he didn’t comment. He couldn’t blame her for being distracted. He couldn’t imagine facing life with a blank slate, no idea of the past, present, or future.

  Though the sun was a long way from setting, the sign for Tres Hombres already flashed its garish colors.

  As he pulled into the parking lot, a space opened up on the side fairly close to the back entrance. He took it.

  “Wow, you must be lucky,” she mused, twisting back around after checking out the sign. “Parking-space luck. It’s a rare and amazing thing.”

  He laughed.

  She did, too. “But I’m serious. Look around. This place is packed already. There aren’t any other spots anywhere close to the building. You’re lucky.”

  “I usually am, for whatever reason.” Hurrying from the car and around to her side, he opened the door for her. “This restaurant is known for their brisket tacos.”

  Again that warm smile. “I can’t wait,” she said.

  For a moment, he held her gaze. When he finally looked away, he felt giddy, like a teenager skipping school to meet a girl. Which, in a roundabout way, he was. Though technically this time was his to use as he wished, normally he spent the hours after his shift catching up on his files. If he ate dinner, he scarfed down hospital food at his desk or in the doctor’s lounge. Going out to an actual restaurant would be a rare treat.

  Especially with present company.

  Several men eyed MW as the hostess led them to a booth, making Eric want to glare at them in warning. He restrained himself, well aware of her mesmerizing beauty and glad he got to show her off.

  They ordered and while they waited for their meal, they munched on chips and salsa. MW chattered about some of the recipes she wanted to try, and he merely listened, not wanting to bore her with stories about his day at the hospital.

  Most of it would be either routine or gory. Once he’d left for the day, he tried not to talk about it with anyone other than colleagues. War stories, they called them. Most times their black humor wouldn’t be understood by anyone who didn’t deal with what they did on a day-to-day basis. They knew it was one of the few ways they could let off steam.

  The food arrived. They’d both ordered the brisket tacos. MW studied hers, inspecting the meat and rice, the cheese and guacamole. Then she lifted one taco and sniffed, as though gauging the worth of a fine wine.

  As he watched, amused, she finally took a bite. Clearly savoring the taste, she slowly chewed. The motion of her throat as she swallowed seemed both graceful and sensual. “Wonderful.” Her voice vibrated with pleasure. “I think I can figure out the seasonings.”

  He laughed, already halfway through two tacos and ready to start on a third.

  For dessert they had sopaipillas, another delicacy MW had to examine and nibble, as if mentally coming up with a recipe.

  “I’d like to try to make this,” she said, confirming his suspicions as she licked honey off her fingers.

  He couldn’t look away. He wondered if she knew how seductive her actions were, and if she’d intended to start a burning ache of need low in his gut.

  Catching him staring, she blinked and colored. “I was thinking about cooking,” she said, a bit defensively.

  That, more than anything, broke the spell.

  “You sure do like to cook,” he managed to comment, using the moist towelette to clean their fingers.

  She rewarded him with a shy smile. “I really do.”

  Again, the flare of desire. Still, he smiled back. “I’m glad. Because I like to eat.”

  Once he’d settled the bill, they walked to the door together, both full. He considered taking her hand, but decided against it. He already felt way too warm and fuzzy. Why make it worse?

  “It sure is hot,” she exclaimed as they stepped outside, stretching her arms out in the fading sun. “It must still be in the high nineties, even after seven at night.”

  “August in Oklahoma,” he said, pulling out his car keys and hitting the button for remote start so the vehicle could begin cooling with the AC.

  Instead of starting, his car exploded.

  Chapter 6

  The explosion knocked them both to the ground. Dazed, at first MW didn’t understand what had happened. Through the shrill whine of ringing in her ears, she heard screams, running footsteps and the roar of fire. As she struggled to catch her breath, there came then another, smaller explosion. Even so, the ground shook almost as badly.

  The car. The car must have blown up when Eric remotely started it. Stunned, she realized she’d started shaking and seemed unable to stop.

  As the smoke cleared, she rubbed her eyes, trying to see. “Eric?”

  “Right here.” Next to her, he pushed to his hands and knees and swore. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so.” Still too shaky to move on her own, she allowed him to help her up. Sirens sounded, which meant someone had called 911.

  A group of people rushed up to them, all talking at once. MW winced, disoriented. Her head ached. Her body hurt. This felt a lot like when she’d first woke up in the hospital, except she wasn’t alone.

  Eric was there, his strong arm supporting her. She glanced at him and gasped. Horrified by the huge, jagged gash on his cheek, she couldn’t seem to look away from all the blood.

  “You’re bleeding...” Swaying, she clutched at him. “Oh, Eric, your arm doesn’t look good.”

  “Easy. I think you’re going into shock,” he murmured, supporting her easily. “Let’s get you over to the paramedics so they can check you out.”

  Paramedics? Belatedly, she saw the ambulance, lights flashing. She didn’t understand how she’d missed its arrival, but then again she remembered absolutely nothing about being hit by a car.

  “And you, too. You need to get that cut looked at.”

  He nodded, continuing to move her toward the ambulance.

  A fire truck hosed down the fire, and police cars had arrived. Dizzy, she thought the scene looked surreal, like an action movie or a television show.

  But no, this was real life.

  “What exactly just happened?” she asked, her voice hoarse. At least she had her shivers under control.

  Expression grim, Eric met her gaze. The gash on his face gave him a dangerous look. “Someone blew up my car. If we’d been inside when it started, we’d both be dead.”

  * * *

  Dea
d. As Eric spoke, even if MW’s dazed look told him it hadn’t yet registered with her, the seriousness of the situation hadn’t slammed home.

  Someone really was after her. Someone who wanted her dead, for whatever reason, and would stop at nothing to kill her.

  In that instant, Eric knew what he needed to do.

  No backtracking now. He thought of all the patients who might need his talented hands to operate on them, and again wondered how he could even consider doing what he’d just decided to do. Take time off from his job. For the first time ever. To keep MW safe. He couldn’t think of a better reason.

  He didn’t expect too much resistance, since everyone and their brother, from the hospital administration to the nurses, including his own office staff, had been telling him for months that he needed to take a vacation. So had his family. They’d practically begged him on a regular basis to take a break from his admittedly demanding job and spend some time at the ranch.

  Now he’d do exactly that, since there was no way to keep MW safe here in Tulsa. And the chief of surgery could breathe a sigh of relief. According to him, when doctors were overworked and stressed, they started to make mistakes. Since surgeons couldn’t afford that luxury, Eric’s boss had ordered him to schedule some vacation days soon.

  Now Eric would put in his request for two weeks off. He’d take care of it the next afternoon, once he knew MW was all right. As soon as he could, he needed to get her out of town.

  She’d be safe at the Lucky C, his family’s ranch. He knew the rest of his family would be delighted. They’d better be careful what they wished for, he thought with a grimace. He wondered how they’d feel when he—along with a mystery woman who didn’t even know her own name—showed up on the ranch for an extended stay. But where else could he go? What better place to hide her than his family’s sprawling cattle ranch?

  After helping MW to the ambulance to be checked out, at first Eric declined when they offered to look him over. But at MW’s worried insistence, he let them clean and bandage the cut on his arm and another on his cheek. Then he called Ryan, and got his voice mail. Leaving a quick message, he relayed what had happened.

  The paramedics finished checking MW out and offered her the choice of going to the ER for observation or going home.

  Eric gave a minute shake of his head. Right now, he wasn’t even certain she’d be safe in the hospital.

  Her light blue eyes came up to study his face. “I’d really like to go back to the town house,” she said, getting the message.

  Eric glanced at the EMTs. One nodded. “She seems fine. A little scraped up, but nothing too bad.”

  Though every instinct urged Eric to get MW out of the parking lot, he knew he had to give a statement to the police.

  Leaving their squad cars’ lights flashing, two uniformed officers began to disperse the crowd. Two more approached Eric and MW.

  “You again?” The tall one asked.

  Eric recognized him from when MW had nearly been run over. “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Does Ryan know about this?”

  “I left him a message,” Eric said, dragging his hand across his jaw, unsurprised when it came away bloody. Despite the EMT cleaning his larger wounds, he had several smaller ones all over his face and neck.

  Speaking slowly and succinctly, he gave them the details on what had just happened. “I think we need to notify the ATF,” he said when he’d finished. “They handle bombs, right?”

  The two policemen exchanged glances. “Give us a minute.” And they moved away, one of them already on his phone.

  “Can we go now?” MW asked, sounding just short of desperate. Eric glanced at the policemen, still on their phones, and nodded. “Yes. Let me see if we can get a ride with them.”

  Since they knew his brother Ryan, the officers readily agreed. On the short drive back downtown, they bantered back and forth, apparently trying to distract MW, who’d gone silent and appeared shell-shocked.

  Back at the town house, Eric thanked them and they drove off. He hustled MW inside, noting the way she kept glancing back over her shoulder as if she expected a sniper to start taking potshots at her any moment. This broke Eric’s heart and angered him. Especially since he couldn’t really blame her.

  “Why don’t you go clean up?” he told her gently. Her heart-shaped face had grime and blood on it, and he thought a hot shower might make her feel better.

  Locking the front door, he called Ryan again. This time, Ryan picked up. His brother had already heard what had happened and promised to immediately dispatch a patrol car to watch the town house.

  “I need to cook.” MW sounded desperate. “I know we just ate dinner, but I have to keep busy.”

  He understood. “Shower first,” he said. “Doctor’s orders. Once you are in clean clothes, then you go right ahead and knock yourself out in the kitchen.”

  He couldn’t imagine what she was going through. To be under attack and have no idea why.

  “I’m sorry,” she told him, her chin coming up as she angrily brushed away the tears shining in her large blue eyes. “I’ve done nothing but cause you trouble.”

  Before he could reconsider, he went to her and pulled her into his arms. “Don’t even think that. None of this is your fault.”

  “You don’t know that.” She raised her chin and met his gaze. “You don’t know what kind of person I was—am—or what I may have done to make people want to kill me.”

  “Shh,” he soothed. “There’s nothing rational about any of this, so stop blaming yourself. Whoever is behind this is the bad guy, not you.”

  Twisting in his arms, she moved away. Back to him, she shook her head. “Neither of us really know that. And until we learn the truth, I think you’d be a lot safer far, far away from me.”

  It took a minute for her words to sink in. “You want to leave?” He couldn’t believe it.

  She turned to face him again. “Don’t you think that would be for the best?”

  “No. Not at all. First off, where would you go? Second, how would you stay safe?”

  “I—”

  Not giving her a chance to answer, he continued on. “I have a plan. I just need to take care of a few things to set it in motion. I’m going to get you the hell out of Tulsa.”

  At his words, she visibly deflated. “You are?”

  “Yes. But until I’ve finalized everything, I need you to be patient and sit tight.”

  “Here?” She gestured around the room. “With someone breaking in to surrounding townhomes? How will that be safe? What if someone tosses a bomb into the window?”

  Normally, he would have refuted such a preposterous claim. Now, he knew it could be entirely possible, and winced.

  “True. Maybe you can go back to the library,” he offered.

  “I don’t know...” But her resolve had begun to waver, he could tell. “For how long? I don’t think anywhere in this immediate area is free from danger.”

  Realizing her terror lurked just beneath her skin, he knew the wrong choice of words could destroy her fragile composure. Best to try to act normal, as if they hadn’t been a few seconds away from dying.

  “I agree. We’ll leave here together and I’ll keep you safe. I just need a few hours to take care of some loose ends before we can go.” He knew he had at least one surgery scheduled for tomorrow. He’d have to perform that one, and then try like hell to find a replacement surgeon so he could spirit MW out of town.

  “A few hours?” she repeated, hollow-eyed.

  “You know what?” he heard himself ask. “I think you can wait in my office at the hospital tomorrow while I do the surgery I have scheduled. I won’t be able to concentrate if I’m not certain you’re safe.”

  The look she slanted at him contained equal parts disbelief and gratitude. At least the terror appeared t
o be banked. “Thank you. I promise I won’t disturb anything.”

  “Perfect.” He pointed toward the bathroom. “Now shower. I want to have a turn, too.”

  “All right.” She moved woodenly, probably still in shock. A moment later he heard the sound of the shower starting.

  He wanted to punch something. As a surgeon, he was used to being in control, taking charge and fixing everything that had been broken. But this...this was beyond the scope of his control. He’d never forgive himself if he failed to protect MW.

  After they had both showered and changed, he found her in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of cookies.

  “What are you doing?” he asked gently.

  “Keeping busy,” she said. “I thought I’d make cookies to take with us wherever we end up going.”

  Her hollow expression worried him. All along, despite the horrific things that kept happening to her, she’d managed to smile and have a positive attitude. This explosion seemed to have been the final straw.

  Once the cookies were cooling, he tried to get her to eat. When she refused food, claiming she wasn’t hungry, and then told him she wanted to go to bed early, he knew she needed solitude to try to come to grips with everything that had just happened.

  He’d have given much to be able to be there for her, to hold her through the night and kiss her and chase her fears away. Instead, he’d simply nodded and told her to sleep well.

  Later, alone in his room, the decision he’d reached earlier still rattled around inside him. He, a man who didn’t believe in indecision, struggled to make up his mind. Even though he knew what he had to do, part of him—the rational, type-A, focused surgeon—fought it.

  But every time he closed his eyes, he relived the explosion, and knew he had to keep her safe, no matter what it took.

  The next morning, he got up, showered and headed toward the kitchen for his coffee. There, instead of finding MW with a hot, home-cooked breakfast, an empty kitchen greeted him. At least the Keurig coffeemaker brewed quickly, so he made himself a cup of strong coffee.