The Temptation of Dr. Colton

by Karen Whiddon

  “She’s something else,” Eric told MW, who’d watched the exchange with a slightly shocked expression. “I love her dearly.”

  “As she does you,” MW replied softly. She couldn’t seem to stop eyeing the food, making him realize she must be hungry. Of course she was. They hadn’t eaten anything since that morning.

  At the thought, his stomach growled.

  Edith returned, bearing yet another smaller tray with their drinks and paper plates and napkins. She set this down next to the snack tray. “Here you go. Dig in. Enjoy.”

  And she perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, fixing Eric with a stern look. “Eat up.”

  MW evidently didn’t need any prodding. She’d already gotten busy piling food on her paper plate, mostly fruit and vegetables. “I’m saving the cookies for last,” she said, catching him watching her. Making a cute face, she popped a bit of apple into her mouth.

  Smiling, Eric helped himself, too. He didn’t know what it was about her, but simply being around MW made him feel good. Sure, lately just getting within a few feet of her got him aroused, but if he managed to put that aside, he realized he actually liked her. A lot. She was fun and sweet and sexy, not to mention a damn good cook.

  While Eric and MW ate, Edith kept up a steady stream of chatter, mostly about everything that had been going on around the ranch. Content to listen, Eric did the same as MW, finishing up his healthy snack with a sinfully delicious oatmeal-raisin cookie. “Edith’s specialty,” he said when MW made sounds of pure pleasure after her first bite.

  “This is delicious,” MW said once she’d devoured her cookie. “I’d love the recipe, if you don’t mind sharing.”

  Eric held his breath. Though she’d been asked many times over the years, Edith had never divulged the recipe for her famous cookies.

  “Are you a cook?” Edith asked, smiling appreciatively when MW reached for a second cookie.

  “I brought some cookies and some brownies,” MW answered. “Once you try them, you can tell me what you think.”

  “Are you good at it or just learning?” Edith persisted.

  “She’s pretty good,” Eric answered for MW, since she’d taken another bite and her mouth was full. “Almost as good as you.”

  Edith harrumphed, though she knew he was teasing. Plus, he’d said almost, which meant she couldn’t get insulted.

  The sound of the front door opening had them all turning.

  Eric heard the pitter-patter of small feet running, and then his nephew, Seth, burst into the room.

  “Uncle Eric!” Grinning, his green Colton eyes sparkling with excitement, the five-year-old launched himself at Eric.

  Eric easily caught him. “How did you know I was here?” he asked, tousling the kid’s already shaggy dark brown hair.

  “Edith texted Daddy!”

  Texted? Eric met the older woman’s gaze over Seth’s head. “When did you get so modern?”

  “You’d know if you’d come home more,” Edith gently chided him.

  Before Eric could respond, his oldest brother, Jack, strode into the room, cowboy hat in hand. Since he’d met and married Tracy McCain, he appeared much more content and relaxed. When he caught sight of Eric, he stopped short and stared.

  “You’re really here,” he drawled. “I almost thought Edith was joking.”

  Eric stood. “Edith wouldn’t tease about something like that. How’re you doing, big brother?”

  They clasped each other close for a quick hug. Once they’d let go, Jack’s sharp green gaze went to MW.

  “Who do we have here?”

  Eyeing him warily, she stood. “I’m MW.”

  “Eric’s friend,” Edith put in helpfully.

  One brow rose as Jack studied her. She held out her hand and he shook it, then he again looked at Eric. “Your friend, huh? I’m glad you decided to bring her here to meet the family.”

  Though he knew what Jack thought, Eric didn’t correct him. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He’s still working.” Jack dragged a hand through his longish hair. “As a matter of fact, I need to get back out there to help. We’re separating calves today.”

  “How about everyone meet here for dinner tonight?” Edith put in. “I’ll cook us a feast, if you’ll make sure everyone knows.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary,” Eric tried, well aware he was fighting a losing battle. “No need to make a big deal out of anything.”

  Edith fixed him with her steely gaze. “You coming home for an extended visit is a big deal. I’m cooking, the family is coming to eat. Understood?”

  Amused, Eric exchanged a look with his brother. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered.

  “Great. I’ll make sure everyone is here.” Jack crammed his cowboy hat back on his head and hurried out of the room.

  Only then did Eric think to check on MW’s reaction. He imagined the concept of a family get-together might intimidate her. Instead, she eyed Edith with a glint of respect in her eyes. When she caught Eric looking at her, she smiled. “Sounds like fun,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “If only you knew.”

  Tsking softly, Edith made a shooing motion. “Why don’t you take MW and show her around? I’ve got to get busy if I’m going to have a feast for y’all ready to eat in a few hours.”

  Eric grinned and gave her a mock salute. Taking MW’s hand, he pulled her toward the huge curving staircase. “Come on. I know you want to see the upstairs.”

  She shrugged and allowed him to tug her along. “I’d really like to see your old room.”

  The soft admission startled him. “Why?”

  “I’m not sure.” Her shy smile heated his blood. “Maybe because I can’t remember my own past, I want to share yours.”

  Inexplicably, his throat felt tight. “Unfortunately, Mother had most of our rooms redone into guest rooms years ago. I could show you which one was mine, but there won’t be anything of mine there.”

  “Oh. I guess that makes sense.” She sounded so disappointed, he wanted to kiss her.

  Because he needed to rein himself in, he showed her every bedroom on the second floor, except for Brett’s and Greta’s. Even though Greta had moved to Oklahoma City, she’d declared her room was to be untouched. Surprisingly, their mother had abided by her daughter’s wishes.

  “What about your parents?” MW asked. “Where are their rooms?”

  He blanched, unable to hide his reaction. “They have separate suites downstairs. My mother’s has been partitioned off, so the live-in nurse will have a place to sleep.”

  “I can wait in the family room if you’d like to go visit her.”

  Her not-too-subtle hint wasn’t lost on him. “You don’t have to wait. You can come with me if you want to.”

  He waited for her to decline. After all, why would anyone want to visit a woman in a coma whom she didn’t know? He couldn’t say why, but it suddenly seemed very important that MW accompany him.

  Instead, MW squeezed his hand, making him realize he still held hers. “I’ll go. Since you haven’t seen her in a while, I figure you could probably use the support.”

  He didn’t remind her of his occupation. As a physician, particularly as a surgeon, he’d grown used to seeing the human condition in all its frailties.

  But then again, this was his own mother. He well remembered the last time he’d seen her, on the day Big J had announced he was having her moved out of the hospital.

  Eric had argued and then, failing to convince his father, he’d pleaded. If she stayed at Tulsa General, Eric could monitor Abra’s care, make sure she got the best treatment. He could look after her and would be there the instant she needed anything.

  Big J had moved her anyway. Out here, to the remote and isolated ranch where medical help was a long drive away. Crush
ed and disappointed, Eric hadn’t gone home since. Ryan kept him filled in on their mother’s health status which always seemed to be unchanged.

  “Are you all right?” MW’s concerned voice broke through his thoughts. He glanced at her, finding her steady blue gaze calming.

  “Yes.” Inhaling deeply, he squared his shoulders and looked toward the stairs. “Let’s go down and see my mother.”

  Side by side, they descended to the first floor. Glad of MW’s small hand in his, Eric realized he felt slightly apprehensive. Not normal, not for him.

  At the entrance to Abra’s room, he hesitated. In a hospital, the closed door would have meant something, like a nurse was giving a sponge bath, or they were running tests. As a doctor, he’d always been able to enter. As a family member of a patient, he knew he should knock. Here, he didn’t know the protocol.

  Glancing at MW, who gave him a small nod, he raised his fist and knocked.

  “Come in,” a soft voice answered.

  Eric pushed open the door and stepped inside the room.

  Just like in a nursing home, the sharp odor of disinfectant mingled with the smell of various bodily fluids and permeated the room. Abra lay motionless on the hospital bed, reminding him of so many patients he’d treated over the years.

  Coma patients were difficult. Often, their vital signs were good—heartbeat strong, lungs working—which made their lack of brain activity incomprehensible to grieving families.

  He totally understood how they felt. Even knowing the medical science behind it, seeing his own mother lying so still, her normally animated face slack and lifeless, made him want to ram his fist through the wall.

  She’d lost weight, her aristocratic face all hollows and shadows. Her hair, usually so beautifully styled, looked lank and lifeless. She looked like many of the seriously ill patients Eric saw on a regular basis at work.

  A lump formed in his throat as he approached the bed. Behind him, he dimly realized MW had stopped in the doorway. He didn’t blame her.

  “Hey, Mom,” he said softly, telling himself there was a 70 percent chance she could hear him. “Sorry I haven’t been by to see you in a while.”

  He was a doctor, he knew better, but damned if he didn’t catch himself holding his breath waiting for a reaction. Expecting his mother to open her eyes and smile at him.

  When of course she didn’t, he had to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat.

  “Anyway,” he continued briskly. “I’m staying for a couple of weeks. I brought someone with me. A woman.” If there was anything that could make Abra wake up, any of her boys bringing someone home would do it. “I’d love for you to meet her. She’s got some memory problems and maybe you could help her.”

  He almost could have sworn he saw his mother’s eyelids flutter. Almost. If he hadn’t been a trained medical professional, he might have believed it. Even now, he watched intently, willing it to happen.

  “Hi, Mrs. Colton.” MW’s husky voice felt more than welcome in the aching silence. As she moved to stand at Eric’s side, she slipped her fingers into his and squeezed his hand.

  To his absolute amazement, he felt tears pricking the backs of his eyes. He cleared his throat to cover his display of emotion, continuing to stare at his mother.

  When he didn’t speak again, MW did. “You have a very beautiful home,” she said. “And tonight, I’m going to meet your entire family. I sure wish you could be there.”

  Still nothing. But then, he knew better than to hope for a miracle.

  “Come on, MW.” He gave her hand a little tug. “Let’s go see where we’re going to be sleeping.”

  MW looked at him, and then back at his mother. “Okay,” she finally said, a hint of sadness in her voice. When they reached the doorway, still hand in hand, she glanced back over her shoulder. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Colton.”

  Not until they were several paces down the hall did Eric feel like a huge, invisible weight had been lifted from his chest and he could breathe again.

  Edith waited for them near the staircase. “I’ve had two rooms prepared.” Her tone dared them to argue.

  Amused, Eric simply nodded. “Lead the way.”

  Stopping in front of a room near the top of the stairs, Edith smiled. “Dinner will be at 6:30. Since Abra can’t be here, there’s no need to dress up.”

  “Really?” For his entire life, Eric’s mother had insisted everyone dress nice for dinner. Which meant dresses for the women, and slacks and a button-down shirt for the men.

  “Yes, really.” Edith fixed him with a stern look. “Jeans and T-shirts are what everyone wears these days. As long as they’re clean, there’s no problem.”

  “That’s good,” MW put in. “As I only have two dresses, and they’re both sundresses.”

  Now it was Edith’s turn to stare. “Two dresses?”

  “Yes. Greta picked them out for me.”

  At the mention of Eric’s sister’s name, Edith’s expression softened. “Ah, well, then. If Greta chose a dress, I’m sure it’s nice.” She opened a door and gestured inside. “Here’s your room. You have your own connected bathroom. Your bag is already inside. I’ll leave you here to rest and freshen up before dinner.”

  “And gather your strength,” Eric put in, only half kidding.

  MW simply nodded. “Thank you,” she said, and went inside and closed the door.

  Edith led Eric down the hall to his old bedroom. Of course, it no longer bore even the slightest resemblance to the room he’d had as a child. His mother had redone each of the bedrooms with a different theme. If he remembered right, his had been done in patriotic colors of red, white and blue. Her bold designs made him wince, but he didn’t have to live there, so he’d kept quiet.

  When they reached his door, Edith turned and put her hand on his arm. “She seems like a nice girl.”

  “She is.”

  “Greta told me what happened to her and how you’re helping her out.”

  “Greta did? When?”

  At least Edith had the grace to appear sheepish. “Just now. I called her while you were visiting with your mother.”

  “Of course you did.” He hadn’t forgotten Edith’s penchant for prying, so he wasn’t surprised. “Then I’m sure you know I brought her here to keep her safe.”

  “Which may not have been the best idea. Ryan still hasn’t caught whoever attacked your mother.”

  Eric nodded. “True, but I have a feeling that attack was personal. Someone who knows her.”

  “That’s what Ryan thinks, too.” Edith sighed. “I hope they catch whoever it is soon. And I pray every day your mother regains consciousness. Her illness is taking an awful toll on this family. I’m tired of worrying.”

  Eric hugged her, the same type of reassuring hug he sometimes gave to a patient’s worried family. To his surprise, Edith sagged against him, briefly letting herself relax.

  Since Edith’s strong shoulders had, more than anyone else’s, been what Eric and his brothers had relied on growing up, this gave him pause.

  And then Edith straightened her shoulders and moved away. “Did you meet your mother’s nurse?”

  “No. I wondered about that. I didn’t see hide nor hair of one.”

  “Well, she’s here. After dinner, pop on back into your mother’s room and introduce yourself.”

  The direct order made him smile. “I will.”

  “Good. Remember, dinner at 6:30.” Her no-nonsense tone told him he’d better not dare to comment on her brief lapse. So he nodded and went into his room, closing the door behind him, remembering what Ryan had said about the never-ending volatility of life at the ranch. He couldn’t keep from hoping he’d just experienced all of it that he would during his two-week stay, but he had a feeling the drama might just be beginning.

 
Chapter 9

  As MW had suspected it might be, the family get-together for dinner was sort of an organized chaos. Though Greta had gone home to Oklahoma City and wasn’t in attendance, Ryan drove out for the meal. At MW’s side, Eric had muttered that this was no doubt because his brother wanted a front-row seat to Eric’s impending inquisition.

  Despite her own nervousness, this statement made MW laugh.

  Eric’s father, Big J, had taken one look at him and pulled him in for a tight and quick hug, after which he’d headed toward the sideboard where he’d poured himself a three-fingered glass of scotch.

  Eric shot her a quick look and mouthed, “Some things never change.”

  But when Big J offered to pour Eric a glass, judging from his surprised look, she guessed some things actually did.

  As family members arrived, everyone talked at once, alternating between hugging MW and staring at her. She met Big J and Eric’s half brother, Daniel, a handsome man who resembled Eric, but also appeared to be part Native American. “I’m a quarter Cherokee,” he explained, almost as if he’d read her mind.

  Though she knew she’d have trouble remembering the names, she met Eric’s younger brother Brett, who was the spitting image of Eric and his other brother Jack.

  Brett’s fiancée, Hannah, a lovely woman with jet-black hair, smiled. Her curvy body showed off her pregnancy. MW tried not to stare, but when Hannah caught her looking, her smile only widened. “It’s okay,” she said, winking. “I seem to get larger by leaps and bounds.”

  MW nodded, not sure how to respond. One thing she could say for Eric’s family, they were friendly. Each and every one of them, man or woman, pulled her close in a hug. Though she couldn’t say for sure since her memory still hadn’t returned, she thought she might not be used to this kind of greeting. Maybe not, but she found she liked it.

  After the adults had finished, Seth ran right up to her and gave her yet another enthusiastic hug, which melted her heart.

  Jack’s wife, Tracy, a delicate, blond-haired woman with a calm sort of grace, introduced herself. “Don’t worry,” she said, correctly gauging MW’s trepidation. “They’re nice. You get used to them.”