Her Texas Rescue Doctor

by Caro Carson

  Then he tore his mouth away, and she was left dizzy and disoriented once more, clinging to his arms. He was breathing as hard as she was, uneven, uncontrolled. Still hungry.

  “That was not a mistake,” she panted.

  “It was for me.”

  Alex let her go, and disappeared into his own house.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alex lay on his couch, staring into the dark, obsessed with the woman in his bed.

  He should never have kissed Grace. She felt like forever in his arms; she was leaving. In hours.

  Some last scrap of self-preservation had kicked in, and he’d broken off that kiss before it had turned into more. He’d headed straight for his bedroom—alone—to pitch his jeans and shirt into the laundry basket and pull on a pair of loose track pants, and to hell with a shirt. Then he’d settled in for one last night on this couch as if he weren’t aware that Grace Jackson was still on his back porch, staring at her laptop with a look of misery on her beautiful face.

  It was cold out there. He’d been just about to throw off his blanket and bring it out to her when she’d come in and headed straight for the bedroom herself.

  The house was silent now. Dark. It was impossible not to relive the kiss that had guaranteed that this last night would be just like the first: sleepless and full of sexual frustration.

  He threw off the blanket and headed for the kitchen. The refrigerator light blinded him. The cold milk chilled him to the bone, but he drank it anyway, all of it, straight from the carton, wishing it would numb his brain.

  Grace Jackson. One week with her and his life would never be the same. And what did she want from him? To be her pen pal. They’d play at setting up a nonprofit and send each other e-mails.

  He tossed the carton onto the counter in disgust.

  “I can’t sleep, either.”

  Grace’s voice was gentle behind him. He knew how she’d look if he turned around. Barefooted. White pajamas. Irresistible.

  He turned around, anyway.

  You look very, very beautiful.

  The thick satin wasn’t as modest as she probably thought it was. It was not sheer, but it molded every curve, from the roundness of her shoulder to the peak of her breast. The impact she had on him was so much more than body parts. She was a complete person, not merely luscious but full of life. She was anxious only in her desire to help others, generous with her time and determined to be optimistic, with hope in her brown eyes and a halo when light touched her hair. She was Grace—and he knew, in the low glow of the kitchen clock, he was in love with her.

  She opened her palm and offered him a USB flash drive. “It’s got the business plan on it. Even if I’m not part of the project, you still might want to use it.”

  He didn’t move. He couldn’t, because the only move possible was to crush her in his arms, to claim her as his own, as if tomorrow wouldn’t come and she wouldn’t fly a thousand miles away.

  His eyes were too well adjusted. He could see the hurt on her face when he didn’t reach for the small stick.

  She closed her fist around it—and stepped closer to him.

  “That first kiss, at the barbecue place, that was the best kiss of my life. When you never kissed me again, I thought it must not have been that amazing to you. Maybe you just weren’t that into me. But then tonight...” She let her fingers trail along his waistband as she had that first night, her touch less tentative now. “Out there on the patio, you didn’t kiss me like a man who’s not that into me.”

  His stomach contracted, his arousal hardened, and he fought to remember that the woman he loved was only passing through. She’d be gone tomorrow.

  I can’t. She’d said that the first night. I can’t, I can’t. Then she’d run away. Tonight, she smoothed her empty hand up his chest.

  He had nowhere to run.

  “While I was packing, I told myself maybe tonight was only physical. Maybe you and I just happen to be physically compatible. You kissed me tonight like you wanted to take me to bed. A lot of guys would take what a willing woman offered.”

  While she was packing. She’d thought through these possibilities while she was packing. To leave him.

  Grace slid her hand over his shoulder, then erased the last of the distance between them by putting both arms around his neck. The move was as confident as a siren’s, but the look in her eyes was too vulnerable, as if she thought he might possibly be able to resist the dark and the satin and the sincerity.

  He could not. His hands circled her waist, sliding the satin up so his palms warmed her skin. No more, just that.

  She shook back her dark gold hair. “If you only wanted sex, you could have taken me to bed every night this week. You know I would have gone willingly.”

  Never had he been so tempted in his life. He pushed himself away and turned his back on her, then drove a hand through his own hair.

  “But you didn’t.” She sounded sad, like a woman who’d been rejected. Damn it, he felt guilty for not scooping her up and throwing her on his bed.

  It’s not you, it’s me.

  “So I think you aren’t that kind of guy. I think you want an emotional connection before you take a woman to bed. But you know what? We do have an emotional connection. So there I was, folding my clothes and putting them in my suitcase, and I thought about Mrs. Burns.”

  Surprised, he turned around.

  “You told me you rarely see the same patient twice. Until tonight, I hadn’t realized that was a good thing for you. No one goes to the ER because they are well and happy. If you see them again, it’s bad. Like Mrs. Burns. Of course you never want to see people again. It’s so much better to assume they are doing fine without you. It gives you peace of mind when they don’t return.”

  She paused to take a breath. He was already holding his.

  “That’s your life, isn’t it? People come in. You help them. They leave.”

  He exhaled, a sharp hiss of a sound because she’d cut right down to the problem with surgical precision.

  “And now I’m leaving tomorrow, too.” She took his hand and pressed the plastic stick into his palm. “My phone number is on that flash drive. Call me.”

  Not pen pals, then, but phone-a-friends. He would still be burning for her, while she would still be living her sister’s life in LA or New York or Tunisia or any of the places she’d told him about this week.

  When he didn’t close his fist around the stick, she closed his fingers over it herself. She had tears in her eyes.

  Alex hated being the one who’d put those tears in her eyes. The sooner he could make her understand, the sooner she would resume her life without him. “You’ll be fine without me. I thought you needed me to slay a few dragons for you this week. You didn’t. You’ve got everything it takes to slay those dragons yourself. You always did.”

  “What dragons?”

  He had to shake his head at his own mistaken assumptions. “Your sister seemed manipulative. You were so anxious to avoid going back to California. I jumped to conclusions, but now I’ve seen how you can hold your own. More than that. You are very good at your job. You never needed me.”

  “I did need you. I needed a friend desperately. I still do.”

  “You need a man who doesn’t give a damn about some idiot DJ in Los Angeles to wear a tux tomorrow. When you leave, you’re going to be fine. You’re a very strong person.”

  “You’re determined to imagine me living a good life without you
, aren’t you?” She gripped his fist in both of her hands. “Don’t you dare imagine that.”

  There was nothing fragile or delicate in her touch. It was as if his compliments had made her furious.

  “It won’t be true. I’m going to be missing you, Alex, every day. That’s not a pleasant way to live. I’m going to be imagining you building gardens all alone, and I’m going to wonder if you wished you had my help. But the worst thing of all, the thing that’s really going to leave me gutted, is that I’m going to wonder if each day was the day that you saw Mrs. Burns a third time. I’m going to wonder if you are sitting alone on your patio with no one to talk to.”

  Her anger didn’t stop her tears from falling. Each one hurt as if it were his own. He’d messed everything up so badly, falling hard for a woman who hadn’t had the good sense to see that he wasn’t the right man for her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, subdued. “It’s not normal to never see people again, and it breaks my heart to know you’ve trained yourself to live as though it is. If a long-distance lover is too unstable for you, I could still be your friend. I want you to see what it’s like to have someone you can call. So call me.”

  She squeezed his fist once more, pressing the hard stick more deeply into his palm, and then she let go and began backing away. “Just call me, if you can. If you want to. I want you to. Good night.”

  She disappeared down the hall, an angel gone in a flash of white.

  No.

  He couldn’t let it end this way. She was leaving—didn’t the pain always come?—but she wasn’t going to disappear entirely. She understood him and the reasons he craved stability, and she was offering him as much as she thought he could handle. Having a friend to call after a hard, painful day would be a new experience for him. Yes, she was leaving, but she was throwing him this one thread, this one connection. It would be a giant step outside his comfort zone, but she thought he could do it.

  No, she needed him to do it. If he didn’t call her, she’d be unhappy. He was that important to her. He mattered to her, and the sweetness of it pierced his heart. It would hurt him to hear her voice and have nothing else, but if it would hurt her more not to have any connection, then he’d do it. For her, he could do anything, because he loved her.

  He strode into his own bedroom. She was standing by the bed, her open suitcase an ominous sight on the comforter.

  “Grace.” He captured her face in his hands. “Yes, I will call you. Every damned day that you’re gone, I’ll call you.”

  “Every day?” He’d startled her, but the hope was clear in her eyes.

  “I don’t know how to do this, but I’ll find a way.”

  “How to talk every day? I’ll do all the talking, if you don’t know what to say. I would love to talk to you every day.”

  “If we can only be friends on the phone, then I’ll take it, but Grace, I am in love with you. I have been since you shoved your arm in that kitchen door, I think, so determined to make me listen. I don’t know how to live with part of you, when what I want is all of you, but I’ll figure it out.”

  Because he was in love with her, he had to kiss her, a hard kiss—a swift kiss, because more words needed to be said as he kept her precious face in his hands. “You were right then, and you were right tonight. I let go of too many people, my patients, my friends, even my mother, when they didn’t need me. You may not need me, Grace, but I need you. It’s going to hurt like hell when we’re apart, but for once in my life, I’m keeping someone I love.”

  “I don’t want to settle for friends on the phone, either. I love you, too, Alex.”

  There were tears in her eyes again, but this time, his heart didn’t hurt when they fell. He wiped them away with his thumbs.

  “I have to leave tomorrow, but I’ll come back. As soon as I possibly can, I’ll be back, Alex. I promise.”

  God, she loved him. He wanted to hear her say it again, but she was kissing him, and it felt too perfect to stop. Her touch at his waist was bold. She slid her hand into his waistband and used it to pull him with her as she lowered herself onto the bed, stretching out sideways beside the hated suitcase. He followed, sheer desire threatening to obliterate every other thought. Her hair, her skin, her hands on his body—the effort it took to get back up from the bed was monstrous.

  Grace sat up, confused. “You don’t want...”

  Alex almost laughed. “I’ve never wanted anything more.” He picked up her suitcase and set it on the floor, went to the bedroom door and shut it firmly. Then he stood over Grace a moment, taking in her beauty.

  He scooped his arms around her and moved her with him to the center of the bed. “Come here, beautiful.”

  “Oh,” Grace said, a little sound of relief as she slid one satin-clad leg over his. “You said it was hard to miss what you’d never had, so I thought for a moment that maybe you didn’t want to have this, so you wouldn’t miss it tomorrow.”

  It was their first time to be horizontal together, the first time she could nuzzle her face into the side of his neck.

  “I’m going to miss you, anyway,” he said, his voice rough with the truth of it. Their clothes allowed him to keep some shred of control as he rolled onto his back and lifted her to lie atop him. Her knees slid to either side of his hips, the first time of countless times to come. He gritted his teeth against the sharp spike of desire, and ignored the looming pain of tomorrow.

  The first time of countless times. He’d find a way to make that true.

  Grace sat up, straddling him, unbuttoning the first white button. “Then I guess we should find out exactly what we’ll be missing.”

  * * *

  The chauffeur opened the limousine door.

  Grace stayed on the bench seat, out of the way of the open door and the paparazzi’s cameras. Alex stepped out, looking less like Clark Kent and more like James Bond as he popped his cuffs and buttoned his jacket. Then he reached a hand into the limousine to assist Sophia Jackson onto the red carpet.

  Her sister had decided to wear white at the last minute. Grace leaned forward to give the train of the gown a flip as Sophia exited the limo, so she and Alex looked perfect as they walked up the first shallow steps to the photographer’s area.

  The chauffeur handed Grace out. She carried her purse and Sophia’s, and walked quietly along the edge of the carpet, the silent signal to the organizers that she was an assistant, not to be photographed or fussed over despite her silver designer dress and her obviously professional hair and makeup.

  Sophia said something to Alex, then started walking toward Grace. Grace actually turned to see who might be behind her. “What are you doing, Sophie?”

  “We’ve never done pictures as sisters. Don’t protest. That silver dress is the bomb.”

  For the first time, Grace found herself arm in arm with her sister, strolling to the center of the red carpet, smiling at the barrage of camera flashes. The rhythm of it came naturally after watching Sophia do it for years—look left, center, right, pausing for just enough seconds that it felt awkward—then they turned toward the stairs, and Alex escorted them with one sister on each arm.

  That hadn’t been the plan. Grace hoped Sophia knew what she was doing. This little threesome would only raise speculation. Which sister was Alex escorting?

  Their happy family group turned back into a twosome as Alex and Sophia took their places at a reserved table at the front of the ballroom. Grace, like the good personal assistant she was, slipped
a white purse to her sister. “Your cellphone and lipstick are in there, safety pins and bobby pins.”

  As she turned to leave, Sophia caught her hand. “Thanks, Grace. You really are the best.”

  Well, okay. That seemed a little intense for a few pins, but Grace smiled and then concentrated on winding her way to the very back of the ballroom. Her dress was too valuable to let it get caught or stepped on, so she was absorbed in avoiding chairs, sidestepping waiters with their heavy trays, turning sideways to pass other women in gowns, and dodging Deezee Kalm as he came barreling past her, running toward the front of the room.

  Deezee Kalm!

  Grace whirled around and started fighting her way back to her sister’s table. The going was harder, because everyone was pushing back their chairs and standing to see what was happening. Deezee made it easier for them by leaping onto the center of her sister’s dinner table, planting his high-top sneakers right where the salads and rolls sat, a filthy, asinine, attention-getting move.

  “Excuse me,” Grace said over and over, pushing her way to her sister. Her dress would have to survive the crush. “Excuse me.”

  Grace broke through the crowd as Deezee dropped dramatically to one knee. Since he was on the table, he was still above Sophia, not exactly the humble pose of a man about to propose. Alex had Sophia tucked behind his back protectively, but Sophia looked ecstatic, positively glowing with excitement.

  “Run away with me.” Deezee held out his hand, more of a demand than a plea. “Right now, baby. Let’s go. I’ve got a private jet waiting. Just you and me on a tropical island, away from all this crap.”