Only Yours Page 5

  She’d had three serious boyfriends in her life. A guy back in high school, one in college and one shortly after. All three of them had ended things after making it clear she wasn’t good enough. She hadn’t been pretty enough or smart enough or ambitious enough. Was she really looking for an instant replay on emotional pain?

  “Do you have a home base anywhere?” she asked.

  “Los Angeles.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I lived there for a while.” With guy number three.

  Simon glanced at her. “You don’t sound as if you liked it very much.”

  “I didn’t. I couldn’t fit in—my boyfriend was a disaster.” She stopped in front of the Fox and Hound restaurant and faced Simon. “He was a doctor, too. Or he was going to be. He was still in medical school.”

  “What happened?”

  A reasonable question. She’d set it up herself, so she had no one to blame. Thinking before speaking was an excellent characteristic, she reminded herself. One she was going to have to take up.

  “We didn’t want the same things.”

  Which was sort of true. The more important issue, which she wouldn’t talk about, was that he’d destroyed what little self-confidence she’d had left. She believed no one could take that away without her permission, so she knew she was also at fault. “His loss.”

  The words surprised her.

  “Thank you.” She tilted her head. “You’re different from how you were before.”

  “Less stick-up-the-ass?”

  She winced. “I’m sorry I said that. It was mean. You weren’t out of line. Fluffy really could have done some damage.”

  “But she didn’t. Sometimes I get a little intense.”

  Montana bit the inside of her mouth to keep from smiling. “I hadn’t noticed. Thank you for understanding about Fluffy. It wasn’t her fault, it was mine. Max warned me. He said she wouldn’t make it as a therapy dog, but I was determined.”

  “To fulfill her therapy-dog destiny?”

  Humor sparkled in Simon’s eyes. She felt herself getting a little breathless. The man could be devastating when he tried.

  “I can’t save the world, so my passion is a little smaller than yours.”

  “Not smaller. Different.”

  There was something about the way he stared at her. As if he was hungry. She shook her head. Talk about delusions of grandeur. Simon hungry for her? On what planet? He wasn’t looking at her mouth. She must have a smudge or something.

  As casually as she could, she rubbed her chin.

  “Max is kind of an intriguing guy,” she said. Because her boss seemed a safer topic. “A little mysterious. No one knows where he’s from. He obviously has money. You’ve seen the facility—that doesn’t come cheap. And it’s not like the therapy-dog business pays very much. And there’s a weird coincidence with my mother. She has a tattoo on her hip. Max. My sisters and I don’t think it’s the same Max, though. That would be too strange.”

  She sighed. “Too much information, right?”

  “Perhaps.”

  She started walking. He fell into step beside her.

  “It was the tattoo. I shouldn’t have mentioned my mother has a tattoo.” She wasn’t asking a question.

  But instead of answering, Simon shifted to her other side. And then it clicked.

  He always made sure he kept his good side to her. However they turned or moved, she was on his right.

  Her throat got tight. She willed herself not to show any emotion at all. He wouldn’t want that. She would guess he didn’t even know he was doing it. That keeping his good side to people had started when he was much younger and was now unconscious.

  Once again she wondered what had happened to him. How had he been hurt and why hadn’t he taken steps to repair the damage? She didn’t know that much about reconstructive surgery, but she couldn’t help wondering if the scars could be made less noticeable.

  Not that she was going to ask. Their time together today had gone well enough. She had done her duty and could now return to her regularly scheduled life. Only she didn’t want to. She’d enjoyed her afternoon with Simon much more than she’d expected. Of course, she’d done most of the talking. The only new thing she’d learned was that he had a home base in Los Angeles.

  Well, crap. She’d gone on and on about an assortment of topics that had probably bored him. She wasn’t interesting enough for someone like him. No doubt he was used to women who—

  They’d reached the park again. She came to a stop on the grass, close to a grove of trees, and mentally stomped her foot. No! She wasn’t going to put herself down. She wasn’t going to assume she was boring. There was nothing wrong with her, not physically or mentally or emotionally.

  “Are you all right?”

  She sighed. “Sorry. I was having a little discussion with myself. I’m done now.”

  “Did you win the argument?”

  “I wasn’t arguing.”

  “You looked serious about something.”

  Only her lack of self-confidence. Why were her sisters so much more secure than her? They were supposed to be identical. She should have the same genes, the same attitudes. But she didn’t.

  None of which was Simon’s problem.

  “I’ve kept you long enough,” she said. “You probably have a ton of things you would rather be doing this afternoon.”

  He faced her, his gaze locked with hers. “Is that what you think?”

  Before she could answer, before she could form words or draw breath, she found herself moving toward him. But she wasn’t making it happen. Strong hands had settled on her waist, pulling her forward.

  She was caught completely off guard, barely able to process what was happening. Which was why she didn’t stop it. There wasn’t time. One second she was at a safe, socially correct distance and the next she was touching him everywhere.

  Her breasts nestled against his surprisingly well-muscled chest. Her thighs brushed his. Heat surrounded her, which was also unexpected, but nothing when compared to his mouth lowering to hers.

  Shock immobilized her. Kissing? Simon was kissing her?

  But it had to be happening, because she had proof. The feel of his lips on hers. The hard pressure of his mouth as he claimed her in a kiss that was forceful and demanding, yet not in the least bit scary.

  He moved his mouth against hers as if discovering her. As if…desperate. Starving for whatever she offered. One of his hands tangled in her hair, his fingers warm against her scalp. The other moved up and down her back, stroking her as if she were a cat.

  Shock faded and she told herself to push him away. She barely knew him. Only she didn’t want any more distance between them. Not when liquid warmth poured through her, making her feel alive and sexy and feminine.

  She lightly rested her fingers on his broad shoulders, then gave herself over to the kiss. He must have sensed her surrender, as he shifted even closer and brushed his tongue against her bottom lip.

  She parted her lips, wanting to know what his intimate kiss would be like. He plunged inside immediately, tasting and teasing. Shivers raced up and down her spine, following the path of his fingers. Her breasts began to ache and she felt that telltale swelling between her legs.

  She kissed him back, liking the way he responded. His body tensed and his arms tightened around her. His kiss grew more hungry, more intense. His reaction fed her own. The heat intensified until she wondered if it was possible for them to get so lost in the moment they would never be found. She’d never been the type to have sex with a stranger, but for the first time in her life she was thinking it might not be the worst idea in the world.

  But before she could decide if she wanted to make the offer, Simon abruptly stepped back.

  They stood a couple of feet from each other, both breathing hard. She had a feeling her eyes were just as bright with passion as his were. Her lips felt well kissed and slightly swollen. She touched her fingertips to her sensitive skin.

  “Did I h
urt you?” he demanded, his expression hardening.

  “What? No.”

  He half turned away, then faced her again. He didn’t look happy.

  “I’m sorry.” The words were abrupt. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  She thought about asking why not, but thought that might send them down a road she didn’t want to travel.

  “I don’t usually…” He cleared his throat. “I’m generally in control. You’ll have to take my word on that.”

  “Not to worry. I believe you.” She was pleased she could speak without her voice shaking.

  “There’s something about you. An attraction I can’t shake. I—” He sounded frustrated and embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

  Sure she must have heard him wrong, she held her hands up in the shape of a T. “At the risk of having you break out in hysterical laughter, are you saying you were overcome by passion and had to kiss me?”

  She braced herself for mockery. Instead Simon nodded.

  “I can’t explain it,” he admitted. “It’s one of those chemical things.” He looked away. “I don’t usually have this kind of reaction to a woman.”

  She wanted to bask in the moment. No one had ever admitted unbridled passion for her before. Part of the reason could be that no one used the word unbridled anymore, but still.

  “Why don’t you usually feel this way about a woman? Please tell me you’re not gay?”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “No, I’m not. However, I can generally control myself sexually.”

  The tone was practically ice, but the words were hot enough to make her thighs tremble.

  “Not around me?”

  He sighed. “No.”

  Montana had no idea what to say to that. Part of her wanted to invite him back to her place. If a guy felt that strongly, she thought she should at least say thank you. Although her mother would probably tell her that a card was plenty. Part of her wondered if this was just a game. Except Simon was proud, and she doubted he would be willing to humiliate himself just to score points.

  He took the decision out of her hands. “I’ve taken up enough of your time,” he said. “Thank you for showing me the town. As for the kiss, it won’t happen again. You have my word.”

  With that disappointing last statement, he turned and walked away.

  SIMON FOUND REFUGE in his work at the hospital. As always, dealing with his patients, planning surgery, examining healing burns kept him occupied, both physically and mentally. But every now and then, and more often than he wanted, he remembered how he’d acted with Montana.

  Now, sitting in the small office he’d been given for his three-month stay, he found himself thinking about the scent of her and the feel of her in his arms. He was distracted by the remembrance of her silky hair in his hands, the sound of her laughter and the way she looked when she smiled.

  Heat and need threatened to overwhelm him. Dammit all to hell, he thought grimly. Why now? Why her?

  There wouldn’t be an answer. Fate was nothing if not mysterious. He simply had to accept that when he was around Montana he was going to act like an idiot. If he didn’t watch himself, he would slide past idiot status and into something more dangerous.

  Now, as he stared at the chart but saw her face instead, he knew he had to find a solution. Bad enough to be stupid, but worse to be pathetic. He’d made the mistake of telling her why he’d kissed her. No doubt she felt sorry for him and was eager to stay away from him.

  Normally he didn’t care what people thought of him, but for some reason, Montana’s opinion mattered. He wanted to impress her. Between his reaction to Fluffy exploding onto the ward and the kiss, he couldn’t be further off the mark.

  His cell phone rang.

  Simon glanced at the screen before answering, then pushed the button. “What trouble are you in now?” he asked, smiling.

  “The usual,” the caller said. “Be impressed. I have cell service in Nepal.”

  “I am. How’s it going, Alistair?”

  “Good, and you?”

  “The same.”

  “Where are you?” Alistair asked. “America somewhere?”

  “Fool’s Gold.” Simon explained the location and a little about his cases.

  “Sounds like work,” his friend commented. “The same here. Burns. More primitive conditions in the outlying areas.”

  Simon had known Alistair since the year he’d spent studying in London. A Brit to his bones, Alistair had been his roommate and shown him much of his country. They’d become friends and, given that they did the same kind of work, stayed close.

  “You’re keeping busy,” Simon said.

  “Always.” There was a pause and the sound of voices. “I’m sorry, Simon. I phoned to catch up but they’re calling me down to emergency surgery. We’ll talk soon.”

  With that, Alistair hung up. Simon sighed and tucked his phone back into his coat. He, of all people, knew how hard it was to maintain friendships in their field.

  “Dr. Bradley?”

  He glanced up and saw one of the nurses standing in the doorway. She was young and cheerful—something he was sure the patients appreciated but he personally found annoying. His gaze drifted to her name tag.

  “Yes, Nora?”

  She smiled. “Kalinda’s resting. She keeps talking about that poodle who came to see her. What a great idea—bringing in a therapy dog. Especially one that small. I guess that’s why you’re the expert.”

  “I’ve never used a therapy dog before. It was an experiment. Sometimes I get lucky.”

  Her hair was blond. Her mouth widened slightly at his words. Humor and interest sparkled in her blue eyes. She was pretty and appealing.

  “Which makes it a good day,” she told him. “How are you enjoying Fool’s Gold?”

  “The town seems nice enough.”

  “We like to think we’re a friendly sort. Can I prove that by asking if you’d like to come over for dinner? I’m sure you’re getting tired of restaurant food. I have my grandmother’s recipe for fried chicken, and I make a mean berry pie.”

  Long-term relationships were out of the question. Not only was he always moving from place to place, but he didn’t see the point. He wasn’t the sort of man who did forever. Still, when a woman indicated she was intrigued, he paid attention.

  A companion for dinner and someone in his bed every now and then was all he wanted. All he required. Under other circumstances, he would accept Nora’s invitation to dinner. But he couldn’t.

  Despite her easy smile and the hint there was more on the menu than dinner, he couldn’t say yes. When he looked at her all he saw was a woman who wasn’t Montana. Short hair instead of long. Blue eyes instead of brown. Until today he had considered women interchangeable. He might like one more than the other, but the difference wasn’t measurable or important.

  “Thank you,” he said. “But I’m going to have to decline.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Really?” She hesitated for a second. “Are you sure?”

  Simon stood. “Very.”

  Perhaps he should have said more. Offered some kind of explanation. But what was there to say? That he was obsessed with another woman? One he barely knew?

  He stepped into the hallway and was relieved to see Kalinda’s mother walking toward him.

  “She’s sleeping,” Fay said. “She’s resting more comfortably. That’s good, right?”

  “She’s healing.” Simon hoped Fay wouldn’t notice he hadn’t answered the question. At this point in Kalinda’s recovery, staying alive was good. Everything else was negotiable. Kalinda could turn with no notice, no warning. That was the hell of what he did—there was never a sure thing. Alistair always said they did their best and that was enough. Simon didn’t agree.

  “That little dog helped,” Fay continued. “Cece. Montana said she would bring her back whenever we wanted. Is it all right if I call her?”

  Simon rarely had to choose between what he wanted and what a patient needed. Not that t
here was a choice. Kalinda would come first. “Of course,” he said with an ease he didn’t feel. “As long as your daughter is holding her own, the dog can visit. Whatever we can do to help her.”

  Fay squeezed his arm. “Thank you,” she breathed. “I’ll call Montana right now.”

  He watched her hurry away, already pulling her cell phone from her jeans pocket. In a few seconds she would hear Montana’s voice. Simon knew things were bad when he felt jealous of that.

  He had to get a grip. He barely knew the woman. Maybe he needed vitamins.

  Before he got any further in his self-diagnosis, one of the nurses came running toward him.

  “We just got a call about an accident,” she said urgently. “A boy. He’s twelve. Fireworks. That’s all I know.”

  Simon ran to the stairs and started down. The other woman was still talking but he wasn’t listening and soon he was out of earshot. His mind cleared.

  He’d seen the damage fireworks could do to the human body. A familiar, cold rage returned. Other people might enjoy the Fourth of July, but he loathed the holiday. Parents who let children play with fireworks should all be shot. Or set on fire themselves.

  He let himself experience the anger until he stepped out of the stairwell and onto the ground floor. As he ran toward the emergency room, he let all the feelings go. He allowed himself only concern and the knowledge he would do everything in his power to fix what had been broken.

  “I KNOW WE’RE SUPPOSED to eat outside,” Montana’s mother said. “It’s tradition and all. But I feel like I’ve paid my dues. We ate in the backyard all the time when you were little. I dealt with the bugs and ants enough to last a lifetime. Besides, we’re all grown-ups.”

  Montana did her best to keep her mother from seeing her amusement. They went through this every summer. For a woman who loved to garden, Denise was oddly reluctant to eat outdoors. Snacks were fine, but something about a meal eaten on the grass made her mother crazy.

  “We’re not all adults,” she said just to tease. “Reese is only ten and Tyler just turned eleven. I won’t even mention Melissa, Abby and Hannah.”