Colton Storm Warning

by Justine Davis

  He blinked. Would she never stop surprising him? He felt a slow smile curve his mouth. No. No, she wouldn’t.

  “I mean,” she added, glancing around, “I’d add a dash of brighter color here and there, but nothing more.”

  “Anything you want,” he said fervently.

  She looked back at him and arched a brow in that way that made him brace himself. “And that sitting room, private but easily accessible, would make a perfect nursery someday.” Ty’s eyes widened, and he swallowed tightly. “Scare you?” she asked.

  “A little,” he admitted.

  “Good,” she said, and at last she smiled. “That means you take the idea seriously.”

  “I want kids, someday. With you,” he added pointedly, reassured by her smile. “I was more worried about...figuring out how to be a father. I haven’t had the greatest example.”

  “Feel free to borrow mine,” she said airily.

  “Deal,” he said instantly. It made her laugh, and he grinned back.

  “One thing I definitely don’t want to change in here is that.” She gestured toward his big four-poster bed.

  His pulse kicked up. “You sure?”

  “Yes. I love the style.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, putting as much doubt as he could manage into his voice. Her brow furrowed as she looked at him, clearly puzzled. “I mean, how can you be sure until you’ve tried it?”

  Her expression shifted instantly to that glinting, teasing one he loved. “Was that an invitation, Mr. Colton?”

  “Why, I do believe it was, Ms. Hart.”

  “Accepted,” she said, with that delighted laugh he loved even more.

  Ty pulled her into his arms. In the moment before he kissed her, he wondered just how long would be reasonable to wait before he asked her to marry him.

  Another ten days, maybe.

  * * *

  Be on the lookout for the next story

  in The Coltons of Kansas:

  Colton Christmas Conspiracy by Lisa Childs

  Available from Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Family in the Crosshairs by Jane Godman.

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  Family in the Crosshairs

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  Chapter 1

  The body that came crashing out of the trees and charging toward Flora Monroe was large and furry. Her initial thought, an accompaniment to panic, was that if she survived this attack, she would be having strong words with the author of the Stillwater Trail public information booklet. The one that stated bears didn’t stray this far south.

  Before turning to flee, she took a moment to register that the creature heading her way was more donkey-shaped than bear-shaped. Then she wasted a precious few seconds wondering if there was any way her first few weeks in a new town and at a new job could get any worse. First, there had been the break-in at her home, then the receptionist at the medical center where she worked had quit after only a few hours, throwing the administration system into chaos. Now this.

  As she broke into a run, the animal raised up on its hind legs and knocked her to the ground. Flora’s rear end hit the grass, the breath left her lungs in a single, dramatic rush, and the thing licked her face.

  “Get off me, you monster.” From her sprawling position, she shoved at the creature. Closer inspection revealed it to be a huge dog. Pushing had no effect. She’d have more luck trying to move one of the mountains on the Stillwater Trail. Her attacker appeared to believe they were engaged in a game. Wagging its tail in delight, it increased its efforts to smother her in sloppy kisses.

  “Tiny.” Tiny? Seriously? The voice was a man’s, but Flora couldn’t see the speaker on account of the large canine planted on her chest. “Come here.”

  Tiny ignored him.

  “Come. Here. Now.”

  Tiny looked over his shoulder, heaving a reluctant sigh before turning back to give Flora one last lick. Sitting beside his master, he gazed up at him with adoration, suddenly a model of obedience. As he looked from his owner to his victim and back again, Flora observed his expression held all the triumph and delight of a dog who had dug up a juicy bone, or found a new chew toy. The comparison did nothing to improve her mood.

  Furiously pulling her rucked-up sundress down around her thighs—fairly sure it was too late to avoid Tiny’s owner getting an eyeful of her white lace underwear—Flora sat up...and almost groaned out loud. Of course. The pain of a few scratches couldn’t compare to the humiliation that set her face on fire. The way this day was going, it had to be him. The good-looking doctor who worked at the Main Street Clinic. Where Flora was viewed as the enemy.

  Last time she’d seen him, Leon Sinclair had been professionally smart in black pants and a crisp blue button-down shirt that clung lovingly to his biceps. Now he was sweaty and mussed up in jogging pants and a T-shirt so faded it was impossible to read the logo. Both looks worked equally well for him.

  “You called that thing Tiny?” It was the most scathing, spur-of-the-moment comment she could come up with.

  “In my defense, he was tiny when I adopted him.” He reached out a hand. “Are you okay?”

  She let him help her up, huffing out a breath as she did. “Yes, but it’s no thanks to your dog.”

  Did his lips just twitch? She’d seen him around town a few times, but, until now, his facial muscles had never relaxed into anything that came close to a smile. “My dog apologizes, and so do I. He’s just a puppy.”

  “Are you sure?” She eyed the half dog, half buffalo combination in disbelief. “What breed is he?”

  “Closest I can tell, he’s a cross between an Irish Wolfhound and Great Dane, and he’s ten months old, so I guess he’s at the phase where he’s learning not to be a puppy.”

  “He needs to try harder.” She rubbed her sore backside reminiscently, blushing as she became aware of the way his eyes followed her hand as it skimmed her buttocks.

  “I’m not trying to make excuses for Tiny’s bad manners, but we don’t often encounter other people out here on our evening run. I guess the excitement was too much for him.” His gaze swept over her. “You don’t look like you’re planning on doing any hiking.” She was wearing a short cotton dress, light-weight sweater, and high-top sneakers.

  “No, I’m not here for my daily exercise,” she confirmed.

  It was early evening, and they were at the point where the road became a narrow track before it led on to the Stillwater Trail, the main tourist route. During the day, the lower levels were popular with walkers. Higher up, the going got tough and only serious hikers and hunters ventured that way. This was lake and mountain country. The route started out in the town itself, leading upward from Stillwater Lake, passing the smaller lakes known as Tenderness and Wilderness before winding onward until it reached the highest point in the county, the treacherous mountain known as the Devil’s Peak.

  “I’m looking for Joy Valeski’s house.”

  “Joy lives over there.” Leon pointed along the track in the direction from which he’d come. “We’re neighbors, although our houses aren’t exactly close. Out here, we have a long way to go to borrow a cup of sugar.” He studied Flora’s face. “Is everything okay?”

  “I’m one of the doctors at the new Ryerson Medical Center. Joy is my patient.” She cast a glance his way to see how that went down. His nod was tight-jawed. Clearly, they were still at the raw stage where work was concerned. The whole “this town isn’t big enough for two medical practices” thing wasn’t going away anytime soon. “She didn’t turn up for an appointment today and I h
aven’t been able to contact her. I don’t usually stalk a no-show, but Joy has been good to me since I moved to Stillwater. My boys have eaten more meals cooked by her than by me. I thought I’d stop by and see if she needs anything. I drove most of the way and knew I’d have to walk a little way to reach her house.”

  There was another reason, one she didn’t care to discuss with Leon. Since the Ryerson Medical Center had only recently opened, and Flora had moved to Stillwater for her new job, all Flora’s patients were new to her. During her initial assessment with Joy, the other woman had divulged some worrying information. As a result, Flora had set up a follow-up meeting between Joy and a colleague so her patient could get a second opinion. Joy had missed that appointment. Since the information she had shared with Flora concerned another doctor and could lead to an allegation of malpractice, the situation was not exactly routine.

  She cast a side-long glance in Leon’s direction. “Am I right in thinking Joy used to be a client at the Main Street Clinic?”

  There was that nod again. It was barely a movement, more a tensing of his muscles. “Before she made the switch to your center, she used to see my colleague, Alan Grayson.”

  There was more in what he left unsaid than in the words themselves. It seemed Leon’s loyalty to his friend and employer at the established Main Street Clinic was as strong as his resentment of Flora. There was already a perception that the new medical center would poach clients from the traditional firm.

  When she had relocated from her post as a family doctor in Denver to her new job, Flora had known there would be challenges. The trustees of the new center had anticipated there might be hostility from existing clinics. The RMC’s new facility was part of the Mountain States Health Group, a not-for-profit health care organization with a network of nineteen hospitals and forty-eight clinics across Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado. It offered enhanced and localized services for which locals previously had to go farther and pay more.

  Keen to settle into her role as one of the medical practitioners at the RMC, Flora had done some informal research on the area, so she already knew the Main Street Clinic had problems. Dr. Alan Grayson, who had started the practice over thirty years ago, was winding down his career. One doctor at the Main Street Clinic had been unwell for several months and another was on maternity leave. The generally held opinion was that the clinic would be closed altogether if Leon hadn’t been single-handedly holding things together.

  The Stillwater gossips had told her a few other things about Leon. She knew his wife had died in a car accident a few years ago. There was no shortage of people wanting to tell her what a great doctor he was. A good listener, generous with his time, just plain nice to his patients.

  The scandal-mongers had told her a few other things, mainly about his past, but she found it hard to believe the hell-raiser they described and this quiet man were the same person.

  “Maybe we should both go?” Leon nodded in the direction of Joy’s house. “Joy and I have been neighbors for a long time. If there is a problem, I may be able to help.”

  Flora blinked. Helpfulness from the reserved doctor? That was unexpected. “Thank you.”

  “Joy is my friend.”

  The message was clear. Don’t thank me. This is for Joy, not the person who has breezed into town and is threatening my job.

  Then he smiled and the whole world stopped turning for a few heart-stopping seconds. Because, when Leon smiled it was like the sun breaking through storm clouds. Following swiftly after his closed expression, it almost took Flora’s breath away.

  “Besides, Tiny loves visiting Joy. She gives him cookies.”

  Tiny barked at the sound of his name. Flora eyed him warily. “I hope she buys catering sizes.”

  “Don’t be mean about my dog.” They started to walk along the track. “Or I might not stop him next time he decides to kiss you.”

  * * *

  As they headed along the narrow path toward Joy’s house, Leon succumbed to temptation and let Flora go ahead of him. There was nothing chivalrous about the impulse.

  He’d already noticed her slender curves when he’d seen her around town, putting it down to an annoying lapse of judgment on his part. She was one of the high-powered doctors who were here to save Stillwater from him and the other small-town quacks. That had been the essence of an article in the local newspaper published just before the Ryerson Center had opened.

  Although there were two other doctors at the new center, Flora’s picture had accompanied the piece. The headline, “Just What Stillwater Ordered,” had appeared atop an article about the demise of his own, traditional clinic.

  Her appearance should be the last thing on his mind. Instead, it had begun to drift into his thoughts when he was least expecting it. Now, instead of one of her efficient, tight-fitting business suits, Flora was wearing a dress that skimmed her thighs and seemed designed to draw his attention to her perfectly shaped rear and long, slim legs.

  Even with her composure ruffled following Tiny’s onslaught, she was stunning. Leon saw plenty of different eye colors in his job, but Flora’s were the first he’d seen that were such a clear shade of blue. There was no hint of gray in their sapphire depths. Everything else about her made him think of sunshine and laughter. Her smile was a full-on, knee-weakening dose of mischief and fun. Except when she looked his way. Then her expression became wary and confused. And who could blame her?

  I confuse myself most of the time.

  The red hair that she ruthlessly confined when she was working now fell loose in a long, wavy mass about her shoulders. For an instant, Leon pictured it spilling over a pillow as they...

  Whoa! What the hell was going on with him? Was this the inevitable culmination of four years of celibacy? Although why his sex drive should suddenly surface now, when it hadn’t bothered to recently, was a mystery. And why did it have to be directed toward this woman? The one who his boss was convinced would be responsible for the closure of the Main Street Clinic?

  As they walked, Leon threw a ball for Tiny. The dog chased after it each time, bringing it back and dropping it at his owner’s feet, his tongue lolling and his tail wagging as he waited for the next throw.

  Flora shielded her eyes against the sun, watching as Tiny hurtled after his toy. “He may be crazy, but he is quite cute.”

  “Thanks,” Leon said. “I think the running helps and I try to watch what I eat. Although I’m not sure about the crazy part... Oh, wait. You meant the dog?”

  Her laughter was delicious. Musical and joyful, it invaded his senses and momentarily pushed aside his cares. It was dangerous as well as infectious. He had a feeling too much of it could be addictive...and he’d fought enough battles with addiction to last a lifetime.

  “Next you’ll be telling me you trained him to knock women over.”

  When Tiny returned, Leon rubbed the dog’s broad head. “The doctor figured us out. We’re going to have to come up with a whole new technique.”

  Flora’s laughter bubbled up again and one hand skimmed the enticing curves of her buttocks in a reminiscent gesture. “When flirting leaves bruises, you’re doing it wrong.”

  Leon pitched the ball again and Tiny took off, skimming the ground with a speed and agility incredible for his size. “I had a feeling the dog was giving me bad advice.”

  Leon wasn’t usually good at conversation. A severe stutter when he was younger meant talking had once been the worst kind of torture. Although years of speech therapy enabled him to get the issue under control, he was still painfully aware of the slight hesitation that remained. It left him self-conscious around new people. But talking to Flora felt okay. Light and easy. No pressure. He even felt the urge to do more of it.

  They drew close to Joy’s house and, still carrying his ball, Tiny darted toward the building. When he was out on his evening run, Leon occasionally stopped by and said “Hi” to his nei
ghbor, but he didn’t make a habit of it. Although Joy had a heart of gold, she could talk for hours once she got started. No matter how much Leon enjoyed her company, he didn’t always want a lengthy analysis of everything that had gone on in Stillwater that day. Joy was one of those people who loved to share the details of town life, but she had gradually realized that Leon preferred privacy. And, since she knew his reasons, she generally respected his wishes.

  Tiny often had other ideas. The dog’s parentage was doubtful, but whatever his genetics, it was impossible to get him full, and he was always looking for more food. The treats Joy gave him were one attraction, but he also enjoyed the attention she showered on him. Now, he bounded onto the front porch, sure of a warm welcome.

  As Leon reached the house with Flora at his side, he was surprised to see Joy’s door was closed and her rocking chair—the one she usually occupied on the front porch at this time of day—was empty. This situation clearly unsettled Tiny, who abandoned his ball. Going back and forth from the steps to the door, the dog sniffed the air and whined as though searching for a clue as to Joy’s whereabouts.

  “He really wants those cookies.” Flora’s words were light-hearted, but her tone was slightly nervous as though she, too, sensed something off-key about the atmosphere.

  Leon could tell there was more to Tiny’s behavior than hunger. He kept looking over his shoulder as though urging his master to hurry. The dog was clearly anxious about their neighbor’s welfare.

  Leon quickened his pace, his heart rate kicking up a notch as Tiny started to scratch at the bottom of the door. When he reached Tiny’s side, Leon knocked on the glass panel, then stood back, surveying the house.

  “Could she have gone away?” Flora asked.

  “Joy has a cat. She rarely goes anywhere, but when she does, she lets me know. I have a key so I can come in and feed Bungee.”

  “Let me guess. He likes jumping?”