Claimed by the Cowboy

by Sarah M. Anderson

  John Jackson wilted for just a second before he rallied. “Right. Well, we can’t say that you haven’t done your best. Now if you’ll excuse me... Keep up the good work,” he said over his shoulder as he merged back into the crowd.

  Josh rolled his eyes and turned to Lucy. “Vice president, huh?”

  She exhaled heavily. “Just count yourself lucky I didn’t tell him about the Calhoun Creamery—he’d have been all over you. Lord,” she added, and Josh could hear her roll her eyes. “I can see this evening is going to be a smashing success. I need a drink.”

  Josh grinned at her. She hadn’t pulled her hand away from his arm yet, which, given how big an ass he’d made of himself, was a hell of a good sign. “Look. We are conveniently located next to a bar. Champagne?” She scowled at him. “We are at a gala benefit, may I remind you. Champagne is the drink of choice.”

  “Fine.”

  Josh got two flutes of champagne and handed her one. She sipped at it nervously as her eyes scanned the room. Josh did the same. He could just make out Graham Newport, tucked behind one of the alcoves in the bar, leaning in close to talk to...

  Was that Eve Winchester?

  But before he could get a better view, Nora Winchester made her way over to him on the arm of a tall, striking man. “Dr. Wilde,” she said in her gentle voice. “You do look beautiful tonight. May I introduce my fiancé, Reid Chamberlain? Reid, this is Dr. Lucinda Wilde—she’s been caring for my father. And this is Josh Calhoun, of the Calhoun Creamery. He’s a friend of the Newports.”

  “Dr. Wilde,” Chamberlain said in a deep voice. “The Winchesters have been singing your praises.”

  Josh didn’t even have to look at Lucy to know that she was blushing. He could feel the heat pouring off her. For her sake, he hoped that she wasn’t turning bright red.

  “Thank you,” she said in a tight voice.

  Josh had been wrong earlier. Lucy might not need to be rescued from the likes of hospital administrators, but in the face of sincere compliments from handsome men, she was not as well equipped. So Josh jumped into the fray. “Where’s Declan?” He turned to Chamberlain. “We tested out the hospital bed that his grandfather’s using the night Dr. Wilde approved of the setup. He’s a great kid.”

  Chamberlain didn’t smile, but his eyes crinkled a little bit and he looked pleased. “He’s at home with the nanny. I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to take my future wife out for a night on the town like this.”

  Nora looked at Reid and smiled warmly, but next to Josh, Lucy giggled. It was a sound right out of the past—high-pitched to the point of squeaking, and it meant one thing only. She was panicking.

  He put his hand on the small of her back, hoping that would reassure her. At the very least, it would piss her off, which would redirect all of her nervous energy toward him.

  Nora looked at Lucy with concern. “I hope after your speech, you’ll be able to enjoy yourself.”

  Lucy giggled again. “Oh, I’m sure I will be able to. This is all...wonderful.”

  Nora and Reid glanced at each other. No, Lucy wasn’t fooling anyone at the moment. “If you’ll excuse us,” Nora said. “I’m looking for Eve.”

  “I thought I saw her over there,” Josh said, pointing toward the alcove where he’d seen Graham earlier. But the space was empty now. “Or maybe not. Sorry.”

  Nora just smiled sweetly. “No worries. I’m sure she’s somewhere. Mr. Calhoun, Dr. Wilde.” With that, she and Reid Chamberlin disappeared back into the crowd.

  “How are you doing?” Josh asked. It wasn’t his fault that he had to step in a little closer to make himself heard over the noise.

  “I didn’t expect it to be this crowded,” Lucy said in a small voice. And Josh could tell that she was worried about all these people staring at her.

  “Just pretend that this is high school graduation and you’re giving your valedictorian address again,” he told her.

  She shot him a mean look. “I was nervous before that, too.”

  “But it didn’t stop you from giving a damn fine speech,” he reminded her.

  She took a longer drink of her champagne. “Flattery will get you exactly nowhere, Joshua Calhoun. I’m not listening to any of your apologies.”

  “Not even the ones I really mean?”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “Perhaps we could save time if you just point out now which ones you didn’t really mean?”

  He set his champagne flute on the bar and stepped in closer so he could whisper in her ear. “I could apologize for asking the Winchester sisters to work their magic on you, but I wouldn’t really mean it.”

  She inhaled sharply. “You did what?”

  “I asked them to make sure that you would be ready for this—on my dime. But it was worth it because you are a goddess tonight. And any good goddess has her moments of wrath. So, to save time, I’ll keep this simple.” He inhaled deeply, giving her a chance to pull away. She didn’t. “What I said was cruel and heartless and uncalled-for. It had nothing to do with you and it had everything to do with me. That’s not an excuse—but it is the truth. I screwed up and I’m sorry.” Her nostrils flared, but she didn’t tell him off. “Now it’s up to you whether you destroy me or show benevolent mercy. My fate is in your hands.”

  She drank the rest of her champagne, set her glass down on the bar behind him with a thunk and turned to him. Forgiveness was not in her eyes. “No, it’s not. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a speech to give.”

  * * *

  Lucy didn’t remember giving her little speech. On a basic level, she turned on autopilot, read from her prepared notes and smiled a big fake smile for the photos. There were a lot of photos. Lucy was positioned between the Newports and the Winchesters. The hospital administrators also had to get their pictures taken with everyone in seemingly every permutation. Then Lucy had to stand and smile while millionaires and billionaires posed and grinned for the society pages. She was vaguely aware that these people were all writing checks to the new children’s hospital and Midwest, and at one point John Jackson leaned over and whispered there was now a bidding war to see who would get to name the new cardiac cath lab. He seemed excited about this.

  It was exciting, she supposed. So why wasn’t she more excited?

  Because no matter where she looked, Josh Calhoun—the bane of her existence—was there. That was bad enough, but the fact that he looked absolutely stunning in a custom-fit tuxedo? The fact that, even when he appeared to be in conversation with another beautiful woman, his eyes were always on her—as though she was the only woman in the room? As though she was a goddess, for crying out loud? It was all unbearable.

  She was not a goddess. Not now, not ever.

  She wanted to be so mad at him for hijacking yet another part of her life. Sure, it hadn’t been that bad trying on gorgeous, expensive dresses with one or more of the Winchester sisters pointing out how good she looked in this one, how flattering the cut of that one was on her. And, no, it hadn’t been the worst thing in the world to have a hairstylist and a makeup artist appear in her guest quarters to transform her into—well, into someone who still wasn’t a goddess, but someone who at least fit in at this red-carpet event. And the relief of knowing that people wouldn’t look at her and see a hopeless case counted for a lot, actually.

  But was this an apology? Between the dress, the shoes, the jewels—yes, even the underwear—she was wearing about six thousand dollars’ worth of stuff. All stuff Josh had paid for. For her. Maybe that was how millionaire business owners apologized?

  But she didn’t feel like herself. Not Dr. Lucinda Wilde, not Lucy Wilde. She felt like was...window dressing.

  After all the speeches—and there were a lot of them—were done and the photos had all been taken, the band started up. Because what was a gala benefit ball without the dancing?

 
; She knew what was coming and before she’d even made it four steps toward the bar, Josh Calhoun was at her side again. “You’re doing great,” he whispered in her ear and damn it all, it made her feel better. Because she had no way to tell if she was being gracious or professional or respectable. The whole evening was a blur of flashbulbs and microphones.

  But she didn’t want his reassurances. She didn’t want him to make her feel better. Not when she knew that he could make her feel worse with a cutting look and a few well-placed barbs.

  “Dance with me?” he asked.

  Oh, lovely. A request. Not an order.

  “Or do you need a drink first? I can get us some more champagne.”

  Us. There was no us.

  Which did not explain why she heard herself say, “Champagne would be great.”

  “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Then he was gone, cutting a swath through the crowd at an impressive rate of speed.

  She did move, though. She took several steps back into the shadows, away from the dance floor and the people and the noise. Could she go home? And not back to the Winchester estate, either. Back to her apartment with its comfortable couch and floor-to-ceiling windows. Back to fuzzy pajamas with fluffy penguins on them and a pint of Calhoun Creamery ice cream to eat while she watched a silly movie.

  “There you are,” Josh said, handing her a flute of champagne. “Can you make it just a little bit longer?”

  She stared at him. She didn’t like how easily he could read her right now. It felt...dangerous. “I haven’t forgiven you for anything. You can stop being so nice.”

  Amazingly, his mouth curved up in a small smile. “Good. You’re still feeling feisty. I was getting worried about you. And I think you have it backward. I fail to see how me being continually rude at this point would encourage you to forgive me. This, more than anything, is a situation that calls for niceness.”

  Lucy took a long, cool sip of her champagne. “Why are you here, really?”

  “I came back for you.”

  Unexpectedly, Lucy’s throat closed up and she felt dangerously close to tears. Tears, for God’s sake! She was overly tired, that’s all it was.

  Josh took her champagne flute out of her hand and set it on a tray. “Come here,” he said, leading her out onto the dance floor. “If you keep your forehead against my shoulder—yes, like that—then no one can see.”

  She wanted to ask, see what? But she knew. Her eyes were watering and her mouth was pulling down into a frown, and she wanted him to stop being so damned nice to her. She didn’t want to feel as if he was trying to protect her. She didn’t want to need protecting.

  But the simple fact was that she was out of her league here and he—of all people—wasn’t.

  Even weirder was the fact that Josh Calhoun could dance. Dance! “This is new,” she whispered, trying to talk around the stupid lump in her throat. “As I recall, didn’t you squash the hell out of my toes at prom once?”

  “I did. I also squashed the hell out of Sydney’s toes before we got married. Therefore, I was subjected to several long months of dance lessons so that I would not make a fool of myself at my wedding reception. Funny,” he said as he spun Lucy in a small circle. She had no idea what dance they were doing. She just let him lead her around the dance floor. “I had forgotten I knew how to dance.”

  She leaned against him and let him guide her. “I don’t know what to do about you, Josh.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he answered. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I keep promising myself that I’m going to stop embarrassing myself with you. And I do okay with that when we’re around other people. But I can’t seem to be alone with you without something happening.”

  “Something good—or something bad?”

  “Both.”

  They took another turn around the dance floor before he said anything else. “Help me out here. When, exactly, have you embarrassed yourself in front of me?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Completely. Hang on.” The next thing she knew, Lucy had been dipped down low—which meant she wasn’t hiding her face against his shoulder anymore. With a look on his face that she couldn’t read, Josh held her there for two heartbeats before he pulled her back into his arms and began to move around the floor again. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m the one who has been busy making a fool of himself.”

  “Okay, fine. If this is how you want to play it, fine. I didn’t think I could be any more humiliated than I was when you turned me away after Gary died. And I felt like an idiot after we made out on the couch and you made it seem like that was part of your plan to get into the Winchester estate. And I am not now, nor have I ever been, a pitiful virgin.” She knew she was turning bright red. “Not to mention that saying all of those things out loud to you is embarrassing all over again. And the fact that we are having this conversation in the middle of a crowded dance floor in front of the highest of Chicago’s high society is not helping.”

  “I would have this conversation with you anywhere,” he told her, and, damn him, he sounded like he meant it. “Because that’s not how I remember it, Lucy. I remember making an ass of myself and hurting your feelings over and over and over again. I remember lashing out at you when what you needed was a friend. I remember being so lost in my own grief that I couldn’t think about yours.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing dangerously near her nose. God, he even smelled good.

  “I remember failing you,” he went on in a low voice. “And I’m trying so hard not to fail you again. You are the kindest, most compassionate, most intelligent person I know, and I’ve never understood why you put up with me.” She buried her face against his shoulder, swallowing reflexively, but it didn’t move the lump in her throat. He held her close and began stroking her back. “God, Lucy, don’t cry. I’d rather you punched me, instead.”

  “I don’t want to punch you,” she told him, her voice cracking over the words. “I don’t know what I want anymore. And what’s more, I don’t know what to do with you.”

  “Hang on again,” he said, and spun Lucy out and then pulled her back into his arms. Compared to the prom where he had nearly broken every single one of her toes, this was like moving on a cloud. He must’ve had one hell of a dance teacher. “What do you want to do with me?” he asked when he had her back firmly in his arms.

  This, she thought. Wasn’t this what normal people did? Okay, so maybe not the whole gala benefit ball thing, but like Nora and Reid Chamberlain—this was a date night for them. They got dressed up, went out on the town, had some champagne...

  They fell in love.

  Was it wrong to want that? Was it wrong to stop thinking about her patients and cancer and malignant growth and hospitals and death, just for a little while?

  Was it wrong to want to be swept off her feet? To know that, when she looked up in the middle of a crowded room, that Josh would be standing right there waiting for her? Telling her she was a goddess, that she was doing a great job?

  “It’s been five years since I was with another woman,” Josh whispered, low and close to her ear. “I didn’t want to be with anyone. I didn’t want to risk the pain again. That’s what I told myself. But the truth is, there hasn’t been anyone else who’s been worth the risk. But you are, Lucy. I made a mess of it. I had trouble reconciling the girl I used to like with the woman I’m attracted to now and I reacted poorly.”

  “That’s one way to put it.” She tried to say it ironically, but her heart was pounding too hard.

  “I know I don’t deserve a second chance—or even a third one,” he added, leaning her back so that he could look down into her eyes. “But I didn’t come here this time to keep the peace between the Newports and the Winchesters. I came to Chicago to make it up to you. So let me do that.”

 
They’d come to a stop somewhere on the dance floor. Vaguely, she was aware that music was still playing and people were still laughing and drinking, but it didn’t register. She was in the arms of a handsome man who knew her better than anyone else.

  She shouldn’t want this—him. She shouldn’t crave his touch or his body. She shouldn’t need him. She shouldn’t feel so alone without him. She had her work and her patients and...and her work.

  And it wasn’t enough.

  “Can we get a do-over?”

  He cupped her cheek in his palm and stroked his thumb over her skin. “What do you mean?”

  “A girl’s first time should be special and magical. When she decides to take a lover, he should put her feelings and her pleasure first.” She had no idea where these words were coming from, but they sounded good, so she kept going. She poked him in the chest. “He should whisper sweet nothings in her ear and hold her afterward. If she wants to fall asleep in her lover’s arms and wake up there in the morning, then that’s what she should get.”

  One corner of his mouth worked up into a smile. “That sounds right to me.”

  “I didn’t get that because you ‘reacted poorly.’ So you owe me a night, Joshua Calhoun. I want a do-over.” She poked him in the chest again. “Now.”

  His hands settled on her waist, and all she wanted to do was close her eyes and lean into him. “Can we at least go back to your place?” he asked with a sly grin.

  She’d have to text Jenelle, but surely it would be okay if she didn’t go back to the Winchester estate tonight. Right now, she didn’t have anything else that she could give to the Newports or the Winchesters. She just needed a little time. For once, she wanted to do something for herself. “You’d better make it up to me.”

  Something wicked glinted in his eyes and a shiver went through her body. “I will.”

  Thirteen

  Josh kissed her in the back of the cab, his hands cupping her face and his breath fluttering over her skin. He slung an arm around her waist and held her tight as he walked her toward the elevator in her apartment building. Once the doors closed and shut out the rest of the world, he pulled her into his arms and whispered, “I had to come back for you. I couldn’t stay away.” Then he trailed his lips over her jaw, her mouth, the hollow in her throat.