A Night of Southern Comfort

by Covington, Robin

  “Vergie!” Shocked at the older woman’s comment, Michaela felt the blush creep onto her cheeks. She looked around her waiting room to see if anyone had overheard, then whispered, “How would you know that?”

  “My sister works for Teague and she heard him ask you out.” She shrugged unapologetically. “You know nothing stays a secret long in this town.”

  “For the record,” Michaela said, “it’s not a date. It’s a thank-you dinner for my business. There’ll be no…” She searched for the right words. “…umm…getting in my pants.”

  “Uh huh.” Theresa reached under the counter and pulled out the box of condoms for their “safe sex” talks with the teenage patients. She pushed one into the pocket of Michaela’s skirt. “You’re probably gonna need this. There hasn’t been a woman within a twenty-mile radius who could keep her panties on when Teague or one of The Boys wanted them off.”

  Michaela laughed and swatted Theresa’s hand away. “Who are The Boys?”

  Crystal leaned over the front counter, the glee of gossip pinkening her cheeks. “Oh honey, that’s what we called Teague, Lucky Landon, Beck Sutherland, and Jack Cantrell in high school. They were the best-looking things that ever came out of this town.”

  Michaela perked up at the familiar name—Jack Cantrell. He couldn’t be the same guy, could he?

  “When they decided to skip the prom, every girl in town cried herself to sleep.” Theresa sighed. “I had the biggest crush on Beck.”

  “Not me.” Crystal pushed Theresa’s shoulder lightly. “Give me Jackson Cantrell any day. He was always so quiet and sexy.”

  “He’s in exam room three.”

  Theresa snickered. “Who is?”

  Vergie continued her paperwork. “Jackson Cantrell. He brought his niece in as a favor to his sister.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Theresa grabbed the next chart out of the slot, perused the file, and whistled. “Mike, you may use that condom earlier than you thought. Jack is hot.”

  Michaela grabbed the chart and pretended to review it while trying to slow down the frantic patter of her heart. If this was the same guy, then her one-night stand was from this town. A complication she didn’t need. Taking a deep breath, she pasted a smile on her face and attempted to join the banter. “Don’t be ridiculous. I think I can keep my panties on long enough to examine Maddie’s arm.”

  “Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you,” Theresa said.

  “Let me know if you need help,” Crystal said.

  She ignored the catcalls trailing behind her and headed toward the exam room. Stopping at the door to the correct room, she took a steadying breath just before she knocked and opened the door.

  She smiled when she saw the freckled face of one of her favorite patients. “So, Maddie, how’s your arm doing without that awful cast on it?”

  The five-year-old dutifully held out her arm. “It’s better, Dr. Mike. Can I have a sucker?”

  “You have to let her examine your arm before you get your sugar buzz, Madison.”

  Michaela instantly recognized that sexy Southern drawl. It had been playing in a constant loop in her head when she conjured up fantasies that should have made her blush. With a stuttering breath and a feeble attempt to wipe all traces of naughty thoughts from her expression, she turned to face him.

  In worn jeans that cupped his muscular thighs, a white T-shirt, and a battered leather jacket, Jackson was the man every good Southern daddy prayed never caught the eye of their daughter. His hair was disheveled and his face had about three days’ worth of beard on it. He looked sexy, dangerous. Better than in her dreams.

  That night at the Jefferson Hotel had been so amazing, so mind-blowing that she’d placed it in the same category as fitting in a size six again—not bloody likely. But now her sexual-size-six was standing here making her wish they could check in for another night of between-the-sheets celebrating. Or up-against-the-wall. Or in-the-shower.

  Maddie’s voice rang out into the silence as she played hostess. “That’s my Unca Jack.” She pointed at Michaela. “That’s Dr. Mike.”

  Jackson pushed off the wall and walked until he stood right in front of her. His expression was part amused, part concerned, but it sure as hell wasn’t any part confused.

  “Hello, Detective.”

  “Call me Jack.”

  “Did the governor send you here, Jack?”

  “No. But, he did tell me this was your practice.”

  His lips twitched with the effort to hold back a smile, and her irritation flared into a serious bit of anger. “What the hell are you doing here?” she said.

  Jack’s amusement wavered but he held his ground. She didn’t fare so well. Rattled, the blood rushed to her face, flushing it with heat. Her palms turned sweaty.

  “That’s a bad word, Dr. Mike.” Maddie held out her little chubby hand. “Gimme a quarter.”

  Confused, Michaela watched Jackson rummage around in his jacket, never breaking eye contact as he pulled out his wallet and placed a five-dollar bill in Maddie’s outstretched palm.

  “Too much, Unca Jack.”

  He waved her off. “Keep it. I think we’re gonna need it.” He turned his full attention back to Michaela. “Her mom makes me pay her a quarter when I cuss in front of Maddie.” He cocked his head to the side and examined her face. “From the look of you, I think five dollars may not be enough.”

  Michaela bristled. She didn’t like when she was out of her element. Struggling to get her reactions under control, she turned to the one thing she could manage in her sleep—her job. Rolling her shoulders to ease the tension, she gently grasped Maddie’s arm and began her examination. Had he followed her here? Had he told anyone who she was? Was he working for the governor?

  The weight of her unanswered questions broke her. “Want to explain what you’re doing here?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Michaela saw him shift backward to lean against the wall. She exhaled. The extra space between them helped. She concentrated on the medical examination, but noted how he stared at her face. In spite of her unease, every cell in her body screamed in recognition of his scent, the warmth of his body, and that deep, seductive voice.

  He cleared his throat. “I live here. Well, I don’t live here exactly…”

  She glared at him. “Don’t you know where you live?”

  His shoulders went rigid under his jacket and a muscle ticked in his jaw—the only indicators she’d hit a nerve.

  “It’s complicated.”

  She sniffed and finished her examination. “Of course it is.”

  “Look Gwyneth…Michaela…”

  “It’s Dr. Roarke.”

  “Listen, Kayla.” He pushed off the wall and stood beside her, hovering while she entered notes in her file. She ignored the fact that he’d just given her a nickname that sounded way too damn sexy for words.

  His voice was gentler when he spoke. “I’m sorry. We both got quite a shock the other day and the situation went to hell pretty fast. Why don’t we start over?”

  Michaela caught a whiff of his scent and tensed her fingers on the pen as she recorded the examination results. She fought the tightening in her belly that correlated to her memory of the night she’d been surrounded by him. Tangled in the sheets. Skin on skin.

  Oh, no. She wasn’t ready to make nice yet. He could be part of her father’s plan.

  She reached into her pocket and handed a sucker to her patient. “Maddie. You’re good as new.” She tugged on the girl’s brown ponytail and returned the girl’s hundred-watt smile. “No more jumping off the jungle gym. Gravity isn’t your friend.”

  When she turned, his large, hard body loomed in her space but she stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated in her office. “Tell your sister everything’s fine. No follow-up required. I’ll see her when the baby is born.”

  He raised an eyebrow and widened his stance. His posture said he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Okay. If he wanted to do this here, then
they would. She walked to the door, opened it, and asked Theresa to take Maddie out into the waiting room for a few moments.

  Once they were alone, she turned to face him. “I told you this was a new start. I bought the practice and moved here. I had no idea you’d be here or about the photos, or—” She didn’t know what else to say.

  Jackson’s expression was unreadable.

  “I have to go.” Michaela clutched the doorknob. “Look, it was nice to see you again. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  Jackson leaned on the door, pressing it closed.

  She gritted her teeth and pulled. “Move your hand.”

  “Not until you agree to meet me and talk. Kayla, I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He continued to stare, his expression screaming how much he didn’t believe her.

  “Really. No more threats. No photos.”

  She wouldn’t tell him about the hang-ups. Or the sensation that someone had been in her apartment. Nothing was missing. No obvious signs of a break-in. But something was off and she was afraid of how far her father would go to make her give up and go back to her old life.

  He’d already tried to hurt her business. Colleagues associated with her father refused to make or take her referrals. The governor knew how much her practice meant to her. This was another way to pressure her from all sides, find her weak spot, make her cave and go crawling back to him. It was small and petty but a constant reminder of what kind of man he was.

  She refused to involve anyone else, but Jackson was here and would help her if only she said the word. Michaela studied his face—all hard angles and sexy confidence. In some crazy way, he was inextricably bound up in this battle for her future. That night he’d been the poster child for every wild, decadent, fulfilling, selfish, and wonderful thing she desired, and now he was willing the play the “white knight” and guarantee her happily ever after. Maybe one that included him.

  She wanted it so bad she could taste it.

  For his own good, she had to convince him that his services were no longer necessary.

  “Fine. We’ll talk. Now, move your arm,” she said.

  Two beats passed in tense silence. Although she shifted on her high heels, Michaela refused to break eye contact with him. This was her turf. Her practice. Her life.

  Jackson nodded, a slight smile tugging at his mouth. His hand slid down the door and covered hers where it rested on the doorknob. “Meet me at the Comfort, Kayla? Have dinner with me?”

  She paused before answering. Part of her was ready to run over to the diner and grab a booth. The other part wanted to hightail it over the mountains—pronto. A one-night stand was one thing, but dinner was more than she bargained for.

  Oh, but Jackson looked so good standing there fueling her fantasies.

  “Five o’clock. I’ll meet you there.”

  Michaela opened the door and walked across the hall to an empty exam room. She shut the door, then leaned against the wall. Her knees wobbled, her pulse hammered in her head, and her stomach clenched.

  What the hell were you supposed to do when your fantasy showed up in your reality?

  …

  “Mom. I need you to tell me everything you know about Dr. Roarke.” Jack walked around the counter in the Southern Comfort Diner to where his mother, Dolly, was making a milkshake for a customer. She poured out the shake into a glass, reached for another cup, and placed it under the machine. His mom knew everyone in this town and she’d definitely know if something weird were going on. It couldn’t hurt to pick her brain about the local rumor mill while Lucky pulled information from their security sources.

  “Jackson Andrew, please stop scowling and scaring my customers.” Her exasperation made her drawl even more pronounced. “And kiss your mama before you start interrogating me.”

  He leaned down, brushed a kiss against her cheek, and caught the familiar scent of her lilac perfume. He softened his tone as he repeated his question. “What do you know about Dr. Roarke?”

  “Why do you want to know?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “I just need to know.”

  “Is this for one of your cases? Because I can’t imagine Dr. Mike being involved with some of the lowlifes you hang out with all the time.”

  “Mom.” He really didn’t want to get into another discussion about how much she hated his job. It never changed anything. “If it were about a case, I couldn’t tell you.”

  His mom stared. Her thirty-two years of mama-intuition peeled back his layers and got under his skin. He felt seventeen again and hated it.

  “She’s a good girl and a great doctor.” She poked his chest for emphasis. “A doctor this town needs.”

  Just like this town needed a good sheriff after your dad retired.

  She didn’t say the words but they’d hung in the air between them ever since he’d left at eighteen and refused to come back.

  Chagrined, he crossed his arms across his chest, leaned against the counter, and looked down at his shoes. He needed to focus on the job at hand—Kayla’s little stalker problem. She’d been hiding something back in her office. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he’d figure it out.

  He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Kayla being here. No, that wasn’t true. He was glad to see her and that was the problem. Lucky had tried to convince him that it was a cosmic coincidence, a sign.

  As a rule, he didn’t believe in coincidences. Coincidences messed with his plans and he didn’t need the help. So far, he’d messed them up all by himself just fine. He had a job to do and he wouldn’t stoop to seducing Kayla.

  And he really didn’t want to focus on why she was suddenly Kayla to him. It had rolled off his tongue without thought—Dr. Roarke was too formal and Michaela was the name her father had given her. Kayla was the woman in his bed. It was perfect.

  “Mom, I just need to know.” He kept his voice low as she poured out the final shake.

  After handing off the two drinks to a waitress, she turned to him, her expression giving away nothing. He’d inherited that poker face from his mom. When he saw her like this, he understood why that expression irritated the people in his life.

  Finally, Dolly answered his question. “She’s from Richmond. Went to Mary Baldwin and the Medical College of Virginia. She keeps to herself but everyone loves her.”

  “Why’d she come here?”

  “Believe it or not, Jackson Andrew, not everyone thinks this town is a dead end.”

  “I don’t—” He bit off his protest. His family had never understood why he couldn’t stay in Elliott. This had never been home for him.

  Everyone had expected him to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but he’d craved anonymity and the opportunity to be someone other than a small-town sheriff, wanted more than a career busting redneck drinkers and rousting teenagers from lover’s lane. The FBI had been perfect until he’d believed his hype and ruined everything. Now he was back in Podunk, busting guys only a step above petty theft and facing the demons he’d ditched the day after graduation.

  The chance to get his old life back was his for the taking and he wouldn’t fuck it up. His mom continued, yanking him back to the present. “She went to college with Theresa Francisco.” She dug her order pad out of her apron pocket and nudged him aside as a new wave of customers entered the diner. “You can ask her yourself since she just walked through the door.”

  He turned. As Kayla scanned the restaurant, Jackson took a long look at her statuesque, lean body. His jeans tightened as he remembered how she’d felt against him, how she’d moved and responded to his touch. He’d never expected to see her again. His body wanted to make her re-acquaintance.

  Another thing that messed with his plans.

  She spotted him and stiffened. Like a veil, icy calm covered her face—not a ripple on the surface. Every inch of her screamed “stay away.”

  If she thought that would scare him off, Kayla had another thing coming. He’d have had to b
een dead to miss the chemistry still zinging between them. While he wouldn’t sleep with her, he’d use their history to get her to cooperate. The job would be easier if they were on friendlier terms.

  He maneuvered his way around the room until he stood right in front of her. They stared each other down like gunfighters at the OK Corral until his mom bustled up beside them and nudged him out of the way.

  “Hello, Dr. Mike. Would you like your favorite booth?”

  “Hi, Dolly. That would be great.”

  Kayla transformed. Her chilly composure melted away and he was transfixed by her wide smile and sparkling blue eyes. Jack envied his mother that look—especially when it faded as soon as Kayla turned back to him.

  “Should we sit down or do you want to interrogate me here?”

  He barked out a sharp laugh that earned a surprised look from his mom and several patrons. He had to give the lady credit—she wasn’t backing down.

  Jack inclined his head and swept his arm out in the direction of the booth where his mom stood with two menus. “After you.”

  He couldn’t help but watch as she walked away. She’d removed her white lab coat, revealing a sleeveless dress that showcased a killer pair of legs. He gritted his teeth as he recalled the birthmark on her inside right thigh and how it tasted.

  Down boy, down. Cursing under his breath, he willed his body to behave by mentally taking apart and cleaning his service weapon. He slid into the bench opposite the only woman who’d ever made him regret waking up alone. Both women looked at him expectantly. Kayla raised an eyebrow and glanced at the menu lying on the table in front of him.

  He answered the unspoken question. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  With a nod, his mom scribbled on her pad. “Two sweet teas and two slices of chocolate peanut butter pie.”

  “Good Lord, woman, your dentist must love you.” He choked out a laugh.

  Kayla bared her teeth in a smile that was more feral than friendly and he gave her another point for backbone.

  “So, are you really fine or did you just say it to get rid of me?” he asked, as his mom walked away.