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Taking Chances

Page 3

by Taylor, Janelle

He admired the way her blue eyes sparkled and her cheeks flushed as she rose to her defense. “Calm down, Mrs. Lowrey. It could be a natural mistake; that’s what we need to find out. Besides, I can use company and help for a while. After all, country doctors don’t get many beautiful and charming patients. It’ll give me a break from a dull season. I’ll be the perfect host. I’ll have you in A-1 condition before you leave my ranch.”

  Was he flirting with her? Was it crazy to stay here? Yet, she warmed to his compliment and stirring voice, his flattering attention that gave her feminine ego a needed boost. This could be fun and interesting, Kirstin, a real adventure. It could give you a chance to enjoy spending time with a man, maybe even make a new friend. You’re an adult; you know how to behave yourself. Be brave. Go for it, as your children would say. And, who knows, maybe a little innocent hanky panky wouldn’t be bad for a change!

  “Do you always take so long to make a decision?” he teased.

  “If I didn’t know better, Doctor, I’d believe you’re enjoying having a guinea pig to work on. Maybe you’re running low on your monthly patient quota,” she jested as her body responded from head to foot to the sensual sound of his voice.

  “Absolutely, Mrs. Lowrey. I don’t get many captive patients to practice on these days,” he quipped, then chuckled to show he was jesting. “Why don’t you prick your finger so I can check your blood sugar and make certain you’re taking a sufficient sample to measure. Here’s your kit. John brought along your things; he didn’t want them to get stolen from the car before the towers reached it. He put your suitcases inside the house. Let me disconnect that IV. first; it’s finished its work.”

  Taking care not to hurt her or to make the diminished dexterity in his left hand obvious, Christopher removed the needle from her arm and placed a Band-Aid over the insertion point. There was a little bruising and bleeding there, but they would pass. He handed her a Diapac with her equipment.

  Kirstin set the monitor beside her, pressed the on button, and inserted a test strip when the instrument was ready for use. She winced as she lanced a finger and squeezed it until a small drop of blood formed. She placed the liquid red dot on the white circle and waited for the automatic readout.

  Christopher said, “Your technique is fine.” She sent him a tiny smile. He scanned her from head to toe as she did the task. Her tawny hair was parted off center and curled to fall just below her shoulders in a casual style that flattered her face. During his initial examination, he had touched those flaxen locks and found them soft and silky. Her eye color reminded him of a stormy blue sea. Her complexion told him she was very careful about exposing her skin to the sun. A firm figure that her casual outfit did not conceal said she either exercised a great deal or was an avid sportswoman and dieter, as she had hinted at earlier. Her medium-length nails were manicured and covered with clear polish. She wore little makeup but looked as if she needed none to enhance her natural beauty. Now that her striking features were relaxed, he realized there was a sensual softness to them that reminded him of Michelle Pfeiffer in the movie he had seen the other night. Why was she traveling alone? “You said you’re sightseeing along the way?”

  “I haven’t seen much of the United States, so I was taking advantage of my month off to explore all I could along the way. There’s so much to see in America. I suppose you’ve been to Carlsbad and White Sands many times.”

  “Only once each. I’m pretty much a homebody.” He lifted the vial of test strips and toyed with it as a deep torment gnawed at him. Living here was all right, but it wasn’t what he wanted, what he needed. He damned the twist of fate that had stolen his life from him. He wished he hadn’t received that letter today—it had brought back the pain of his loss and put him in a foul mood. The past was over and he had to accept his circumstances, his exile. He had to come to grips with himself, and find personal and professional fulfillment here, if possible. That’s what he’d been trying to do for four bitter years. Though it was a worthy position, he hadn’t sacrificed, studied, and trained to become a country doctor. He’d had a brilliant, lucrative, and satisfying surgical career snatched from him by a love-crazed and scorned woman. That added to his ex-wife’s betrayal, made it surprising he could even trust any female!

  Kirstin wondered if she detected resentment in his last statement. He had drifted into a broody silence that tugged at her heart. Perhaps his wife had left him or died and he was still suffering. A loss, whether by death or divorce, always hurt. Some cases she knew hurt more than others and caused terrible damage to those left behind. David had … Get off it, Kirstin, the past is over and you’re doing great. “The brochures looked wonderful. I can hardly wait to visit both places, if I have enough time after I handle my problems here. Captain Two Fists said my car is in bad shape. I hope they can repair it quickly. And inexpensively,” she mumbled before thinking how that might sound to him.

  “Don’t you have insurance? A person can find himself in a terrible bind without sufficient coverage.”

  “Yes, but I’d rather not report this. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Higher premiums or a possible cancellation or added stipulation?” he surmised. She nodded, but looked as if she meant more. Maybe there was another reason not to report it; maybe she already had black marks on her insurance and traffic record. “Joe Bob Bridges is one of the best mechanics I’ve ever known. Your car couldn’t be in better hands. We’ll call him tomorrow to check on it … Let’s see what your reading is.” He lifted the monitor, but it had automatically shut off during their distraction. He pressed the on button, then the memory control to get the last reading. His gaze widened in surprise.

  At his reaction, Kirstin panicked. “What’s wrong? Is it that bad? Is my blood sugar too high—or too low?”

  Christopher lifted the vial, read the code number, then checked the one on the monitor. “Did you open this bottle today?”

  “Yes. What’s the matter? Has it expired? Am I out of control?”

  “You didn’t change your monitor code to match the vial code; you’ve been getting false readings since you began using these test strips. That could partially explain why you didn’t realize you were on a downward spiral. It’s reading much higher than it actually is. Let’s test again.”

  With shaky hands, Kirstin changed the monitor code and repeated the procedure. That done, she and Christopher smiled and relaxed. Before he could scold her again, she said, “I know—another careless error. I’ve never done that before, Doctor Harrison. I’m usually so careful.” She knew why she had made the mistake: that distressing talk with her youngest daughter this morning about Steve, who was demanding that Katie tell him how and where to reach her so he could take advantage of her again. After she was settled in her new apartment and job, she had to settle matters with Steve. They couldn’t go on as they had been doing for the past year.

  “That answers one of our questions, but not all of them. We still have to get you balanced and prevent swings.” He decided she had something preying on her mind, something to do with a man probably. A woman like Kirstin Lowrey didn’t sit home many nights, he assumed, unless she wanted to. Perhaps she was moving across country to make a fresh start, as he’d been forced to do, far away from the pains and demands of a lost past.

  With her legs and bare feet dangling over the side of the table and trying to conceal her apprehension, Kirstin inquired, “What now?”

  “I think you should lie down and take a nap, or at least stay quiet and still and rest. This has .been stressful for you, and you don’t need stress to send your blood sugar skyrocketing. Doctor’s order, Mrs. Lowrey: sleep.”

  Kirstin didn’t argue. She lay down and watched as he flung a blue sheet over her lower body. He was so gentle and caring at that moment, and it felt good to have him tending her. Her gaze followed him out the door and her ears heard the second one close again, then a click. She wasn’t frightened, as he’d said he was locking it to prevent her from being disturbed by another patient
or visitor, and she could turn the bolt from inside if she needed to get out. But she didn’t want to get up or to leave. She just wanted to relax, to get well, to have everything be all right again. She was in capable hands and charming company, so why not enjoy both? She was tired, and surprisingly drowsy. She closed her eyes and let her body relax. If she had flown, driven I-20, or done as Steve almost demanded, she wouldn’t have met Christopher Harrison. And this alarming incident with her diabetes might not have happened; Steve would be certain to point that out when she revealed it to him, if she ever did …

  Two

  As Kirstin stretched and yawned, she realized she was in a strange place, and rose with haste. Simultaneously, she recalled where she was and why, and saw Dr. Christopher Harrison sitting nearby watching her.

  “How do you feel?” he asked as he stood and approached her.

  “Fine, just didn’t know where I was for a minute.” She untangled herself from the sheet and tossed it aside. She straightened her clothing and fingercombed her hair. She assumed she looked a rumpled mess, and wished that weren’t true.

  “I sneaked in to make sure you didn’t have another attack while you were sleeping. But you seem fine …Does anyone live with you?”

  “What?” Why, she fretted, would he ask such a personal question?

  Christopher witnessed her reaction and suspected she must have misunderstood his meaning. “People who live alone don’t have anybody to check on them during the night to see if they have warning symptoms while they’re asleep. Do you ever wake up feeling strange or with headaches? And do you have to get up during the night to drink water or use the bathroom?”

  His last few words embarrassed her for a moment, but then she reminded herself he was a doctor, hers for a while, and that the question was a necessary one. “No to both medical questions, and I. do live alone. I have since my husband was killed in a traffic accident fifteen months ago. My children are grown; two are married and gone, one living overseas and one in Denver, and my single daughter lives and works in Los Angeles.” She felt awkward” about her silly reaction and hurried past it to ask, “Should I check my blood again?”

  “I was about to ask you to do that.”

  After she completed the test, both smiled in relief at the good result.

  “Ready to eat?” he asked.

  “What time is it?” She glanced around for a wall clock.

  “Heading toward six. You didn’t nap long. I skipped lunch, so I’m starved. You should join me. You need to get on a new eating schedule. Crossing so many time zones has contributed to your being off balance. Since you’ll be living out here, It’s best to adjust to California time.”

  A hungry Kirstin agreed, “I am ready to eat, thank you.”

  “Here are your shoes. I removed them earlier.”

  Kirstin slipped them on and smiled.

  “Take it slow; you don’t want to have another accident. If you feel the slightest bit weak or dizzy, tell me immediately.” Christopher assisted her down from the worn leather table and held on to her hand until he was certain her head was clear and her balance was steady.

  Kirstin felt his left hand at her waist. The right one that was holding hers was large and warm, and sparked feelings of pleasure, as did his closeness and scent. This man was intelligent and hard-working; it seemed apparent from his callused hands and muscular physique that his money and profession didn’t prevent him from laboring alongside his hired men. Yet, it struck her as odd for a wealthy and talented doctor to be doing menial ranch chores and running such a small practice in the near desert.

  When he made an abrupt halt before opening the door, she bumped into him. “Sorry, Doc, but you have to warn me of sudden stops and turns; my driving is off today.” He joined her laughter, and she enjoyed its sound.

  Now that she was standing next to him, she could see he was quite tall—over six feet for certain. His body was well taken care of; her left hand had touched his firm back as she sought her balance, and slipped away from a narrow and firm waist. She noticed he’d shaved during her nap and changed clothes. Trying to impress me, Doc, or simply completing the morning tasks I interrupted? Curiosity flooded Kirstin, the most she’d experienced about a man since her teenage years. She was impressed by the care he obviously took with both his appearance and his health. David also had taken care of his looks but only out of vanity.

  Christopher glanced at his patient before leading her out of the small building he used as an office. For a minute, he wished he hadn’t asked her to stay at his home; she evoked such crazy thoughts and a fiery heat in his loins, and this was an age of outrageous lawsuits, justified and unjustified. Besides, only a dedicated career woman would relocate across the country. He was lonely and miserable enough without making it worse by allowing her to get to him, only to leave him. There might be good reasons why she wasn’t married again, or at least living with someone. For all he knew, she could be an embittered woman who was carrying around emotional baggage he didn’t want to help tote or unpack. It would be best to get her healed and gone as fast as possible. A sexy but independent woman like Kirstin Lowrey could be big trouble, and he didn’t need any more problems in his life. Yet …

  As Christopher guided Kirstin across a wellkept yard and into a large and airy kitchen, she realized—in the short time she’d been with him—how different he seemed from her deceased husband. He exuded self-assurance, strength, and pride. Again she wondered why he had left doctoring and big-city life for smalltown ranching? Well, almost left it; he did have a tiny practice. Why wasn’t he married? Was he recently divorced or widowed? Did he have a girlfriend? Was he gay? She didn’t think so, not that it was any of her business. Had he been forced out of medicine in one state only to seek a new start in another?

  Get a grip on it, Kirstin; this is only a professional arrangement. You don’t have to know everything about him or understand him; you never did those things with David and look how that affected you. Strong men— and Christopher’s one of them—demand full control of everything and everyone around them, and a woman gets lost in that kind of relationship. Don’t even consider starting anything with this tempting stranger.

  Kirstin was surprised to find the kitchen neat, as he’d said he wasn’t much on cleaning and that his housekeeper was gone. Of course, the woman could have left town just this morning. David had never lifted a finger to help at home and didn’t think a man should either do or help with such chores. Yet David had expected “his” home, yard, wife, and children to be at their peak at all times, and she had complied to the best of her ability.

  Christopher noticed how her inquisitive gaze scanned the room and he was relieved he’d straightened up while she was napping. He pulled out a chair and said, “Sit at the table while I check the fridge to see what I have to tempt your taste buds.”

  She remained standing to ask, “Can I help with anything?”

  “No need. You might get weak and have another attack. Just relax tonight, and tomorrow, too. You can impress me Thursday with your culinary skills. Helen keeps the freezer well stocked, so feel free to raid it. In the two weeks she’s been gone, I’ve been starving for a real meal.”

  “You haven’t even asked if I can cook. Simply because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’m skilled or experienced in that area.”

  Christopher sent her a look of playful mischief. “Can you cook and do housework? Or did you accept my offer under false pretenses?”

  Kirstin laughed at his expression and tone. “You assumed I could do both when you made our bargain. Not to worry, Doctor, I can cook and clean well enough to honor my part of our deal.”

  “A woman with confidence and honesty; I like that. If you want to freshen up, there’s a bathroom around the corner, on the left.” He’d also done a quick and sufficient job of cleaning it. His knew his bedroom and bath were still disaster areas, but she wouldn’t be seeing those two rooms.

  Kirstin followed the direction of his nod to wash her hands.
As she looked in the mirror to fingercomb and fluff her hair, she mused, What on earth are you doing here alone with a sexy stranger who makes you feel so crazy? You don’t need complications in your new life. Maybe she was intrigued by Christopher Harrison because he was so different from David Lowrey and from other men she’d met. Her husband had been good-looking and charming, but he hadn’t been on a par with her host. Unlike the easygoing rancher, David had been a workaholic who was determined to be prosperous and never felt he attained the heights he wanted and seemed to need. He had taken care of everyone’s needs— financially and emotionally— except those of his family; he’d let them suffer before and after his death.

  She hadn’t realized how much David had controlled her until he was gone and she was left in charge. She had cared for her invalid mother and borne the brunt of raising their three children. She. had helped with three grandchildren as much as possible. Now, she could do as she pleased and when she pleased, almost. She hadn’t planned on having trouble with Steve and her health. If she wanted to attain her goals and be happy— and she did— she must give both matters prompt attention.

  As she stared at her reflection, Kirstin wished she had her purse so she could freshen her makeup and cologne. She wasn’t a total wreck, but she could look better with a few repairs. David would have gone bonkers if he’d seen her looking like this. Image had been so damned important to him. He had insisted she be up and dressed—full makeup and all—before rousing the children from bed, and remain her “best” until retiring for the night, even while doing house- or yardwork or tending the children. If he came home without warning and found her mussed, he made her stop what she was doing to “repair”. herself. From the beginning of their marriage and especially after she left work, he had trained her with cleverness, and persistence; he had done his task so well—formed her “habits” and colored her opinions— that she hadn’t realized what had taken place until it was almost too late to change.

 

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