by Diana Palmer
The nebulizer took a long time to empty. By the time she’d breathed in the last of the bronchodilator, she was exhausted. But she could get her breath again.
The doctor came back in and reiterated what he’d said about seeing a physician for treatment of her asthma.
He gave her a sample inhaler and a prescription for another, plus another prescription. “This one—” he tapped it “—is for what we call a spacer. It’s a more efficient way of delivering the medicine than a pocket inhaler. You’re to follow the directions. And as soon as possible, you get treatment. I don’t want to see you back in here again in that condition,” he added with a smile to soften the words.
“Thank you,” she said.
He shrugged. “That’s what we’re here for.” He frowned. “You never knew you had asthma. I find that incredible. Don’t you have a family physician?”
“I only go to the clinic when I’m sick,” she said shortly. “I don’t have a regular doctor.”
“Find one,” the physician recommended bluntly. “You’re a tragedy waiting to happen.”
He shook hands with Guy and left them in the cubicle.
Guy helped her to her feet and escorted her to the clerk, where she gave her credit card and address to the woman in charge.
“No insurance, either?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It never seemed necessary.”
“You need taking in hand.”
She shook her head. “Not tonight. I’m too tired to fight. I want to go back to the motel.”
He didn’t like that idea at all. He worried about her, being alone at night. “You shouldn’t be by yourself,” he said uneasily. “I could get a nurse to come and stay with you.”
“No!” she said vehemently. “I can take care of myself!”
“Don’t get upset,” he said firmly. “It won’t help matters. It could even bring on another attack.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. It scared me.”
“That makes two of us,” he confided. “I’ve never moved so fast in my life.” He caught her hand in his and held it tight. “Don’t do that again,” he added in a strained tone.
She turned to him as they made it into the sunlight. “How do we get to the motel?” she asked worriedly. “And what about your truck?”
“Paddy will take good care of the truck. We have a taxi service here. We can use it,” he added with a smile. “Come on. I need to make arrangements to return the plane and then I’ll see that you get where you want to go. Eventually,” he added under his breath.
Candy expected the cab to take them to the motel, but the address Guy gave the driver wasn’t the motel after all. It was a doctor’s office.
“Now see here…!” she began.
Her protests didn’t cut any ice. He paid the driver and frog-marched her into Drew Morris’s waiting room. The receptionist who’d replaced Drew’s wife, Kitty, smiled at them.
Guy explained the problem, and the receptionist had them take a seat. But only a couple of minutes later, they were hustled into a cubicle.
Drew Morris came right in. He ignored Candy’s protests and examined her with his stethoscope. Seconds later, he wrapped the stethoscope around his neck, sat back on the couch and folded his arms.
“I’m not your physician, but I’ll do until you get one. I’m going to give you a prescription for a preventative medicine. You use it along with the inhaler the emergency room doctor gave you.”
“How did you know about that?” Candy asked, aghast.
“Guy called me before he called the cab,” Drew said nonchalantly. “You use both medicines. If the medicines stop working, for any reason, don’t increase the dosage—call me or get to the emergency room. You had a life-threatening episode today. Let it be a warning. You can control asthma, you can’t cure it. You have to prevent these attacks.”
She gave in gracefully. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll do what I’m told.”
“Have you had problems like this before?”
She nodded. “Quite a bit. I thought it was just a mild allergy. Nobody in my family has any sort of lung problem.”
“It doesn’t have to be inherited. Some people just get it—more today than ever before, especially children. It’s becoming a major problem, and I’m convinced that pollution has something to do with it.”
“What about my job?” she asked miserably. “I love what I do.”
“What do you do?” Drew asked.
“I go around to ranches and interview people on their production methods. There’s always a grain elevator, a storage silo, a barnful of hay or wheat straw—they’re unavoidable.”
“Then wear a mask and use your inhalants before you go near those pollutants,” Drew said. “No reason you can’t keep doing your job. People with asthma have won Olympic medals. It won’t get you down unless you let it.”
She smiled at him. “You’re very encouraging.”
“I have to be. My wife, Kitty, is asthmatic.”
“How is Kitty?” Guy asked.
He chuckled. “Pregnant,” he murmured, and his high cheekbones colored. “We couldn’t be happier.”
“Congratulations,” Guy said. “And thanks for having a look at Candy.”
“My pleasure,” Drew replied, and not without a noticeable speculation as his gaze went from one of them to the other.
“He seems to know you very well,” Candy mentioned when the cab was carrying them back to her motel.
“He does. I used to date his wife, before she was his wife,” he said. “I told you about her. She coughed instead of wheezed.”
“Oh, yes, I remember.” She didn’t like the memory. Guy had apparently done a lot of dating locally, despite his grief at losing his fiancée.
“Kitty was sweet and gentle, and I liked her a lot,” he continued. “But she loved Drew. I’m glad they made it. He was grieving for his late wife. People around here never thought he’d marry again. I guess Kitty came up on his blind side.”
“He’s nice.”
“Yes, but like all our doctors around here, he’s got a temper.” He glanced at her pocketbook and leaned forward and told the cabdriver to stop at the nearby pharmacy. “You need to get those filled. We’ll wait for them and call a cab when they’re filled.”
“I could do it tomorrow,” Candy began.
“No,” he said, leaning over the seat to talk to the cabdriver.
They stopped and got the prescriptions filled and then went on to the motel. Guy left Candy in her room reluctantly and made sure that she had a bucket of ice and some soft drinks before he left, so that she wouldn’t have to go out to get them.
“Try to get some rest,” he said.
“But we didn’t get to see all of Matt’s ranch,” she protested, frowning. “How will I ever write the story?”
“Matt said he could fax you the answers to any questions you didn’t get answered at the ranch,” he replied. “I’ll explain the situation to him and you can work up some questions. I’ll make sure he gets them.”
“That’s really nice of you,” she said.
He smiled down at her, feeling protective and possessive all at once. “This could be habit-forming, too, you know.”
“What could?”
“Taking care of you,” he said softly. He bent and brushed his mouth tenderly against hers. “Lie down and rest for a while. I’ll come back and get you and take you out to eat, if you’re up to it.”
She grimaced. “I want to,” she said. “But I’m so tired, Guy.”
She did look tired. Her face was drawn and there were new lines around her mouth and eyes. He traced one of them lightly.
“Suppose I bring something over to you?” he asked. “What would you like?”
“Pork lo mein,” she said at once.
He grinned. “My favorite. I’ll see you about six.”
“Okay.”
He finished his chores at the feedlot, having had Paddy drive his truck back to town. He drove Padd
y home and then went to get supper for Candy. He took the food to the motel. They ate silently and then rented an action film on the pay per view channel and piled up together on one of the double beds to watch it.
In no time at all, Candy was curled up against him sound asleep. He held her that way, marveling at the wonder of their closeness, at her vulnerability and his own renewed strength. He hadn’t thought seriously about getting involved with anyone since he’d lost Anita, but Candy had slipped so naturally into his life that he accepted her presence with no misgivings at all.
He looked down at her with soft, possessive eyes. He didn’t want to go back to the feedlot. He wanted to stay here with her, all night long. But if he did that, he’d compromise her. He couldn’t risk that. She might not want commitment so soon. He wondered about the sanity of getting mixed up with a woman who lived several states away, but he couldn’t talk himself out of it.
He knew at that moment that she had a hold on him that no distance, no circumstance, could break. And he was afraid.
Chapter Five
Guy bent and kissed Candy’s closed eyes, brushing his lips against them until they fluttered and lifted.
She looked up at him drowsily, but with absolute trust. Involuntarily, her arms snaked up around his neck and she pulled him down to kiss him slowly, tenderly, on his hard mouth.
He groaned, and she felt him move, so that his body shifted next to hers. The kiss grew in pressure and insistence until one long leg slid right between both of hers and his mouth demanded.
She pushed at his chest, frightened by the sudden lack of breathable air.
His head lifted. He breathed roughly, but he understood without speaking why she’d drawn back. “Sorry,” he whispered. His mouth moved to her chin, her neck and into the opening her blouse left. His lean fingers unfastened buttons, so that his mouth could move down past her collarbone and onto even softer flesh.
Her hands picked at his shirt, hesitated, as new sensations lanced through her. She loved the feel of his mouth. She didn’t protest as he eased the lacy strap off her shoulder, and his mouth trespassed on flesh that had never known a man’s touch before.
She yielded immediately, arching up to meet his lips, pushing the fabric aside to make way for it. She felt his mouth over her hard nipple and its sudden moist pressure made her moan with pleasure.
He lifted his head and looked where his mouth had touched. He traced the firm rise sensually and bent to kiss it once more, lovingly, before he righted the lacy strap and buttoned the blouse again.
Her eyes asked a question.
He smiled and bent to kiss her tenderly. “We have all the time in the world for that,” he whispered. “Right now, you’re a little wounded bird and I have to take care of you.”
Tears stung her eyes. She’d never had tenderness. It was new and overpowering.
He kissed the tears away. “Don’t cry,” he murmured. “You’re going to be fine now. Just fine. Nothing bad is ever going to happen to you as long as I’m around.”
She clung to him hard, burying her face in his throat as the tears fell even more hotly.
“Oh, Candy,” he murmured huskily. He held her close, rocked her in his arms, until she had her self-control back. Then he got up from the bed and pulled her up beside him, to hold her carefully close.
“Sorry,” she murmured on a sob. “I guess I’m tired.”
“So am I.” He brushed his mouth against her pert nose. “I’m going back to the feedlot. Can I get you anything before I go?”
She shook her head. She smiled hesitantly. “How about that fishing trip tomorrow?”
He smiled. “I’m game if you are.”
“I’ll use my medicines,” she said without enthusiasm.
“You sure will, or we won’t go,” he assured her.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Spoilsport.”
“I hate emergency rooms,” he said simply. “We have to keep you out of them.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good.”
“Thank you for saving my life,” she said solemnly. “I know it must have brought back some terrible memories for you, having to fly again.”
He wouldn’t admit that. He wasn’t going to think about it. He only smiled at her, in a vague, pleasant way. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. If you feel like going, we’ll go. If not, we’ll find some other way to pass the time. Okay?”
She smiled wearily. “Okay.”
He left her and went back to the bunkhouse at the feedlot, but he didn’t sleep. Over and over again he saw Anita’s face. He groaned as he finally just got up and forgot trying to make the memories go away. It was useless.
The next morning, Guy and Candy went fishing on the river, with cane poles and a bait bucket. It was, she muttered, absolutely primitive to try to catch a fish in such a manner.
He only grinned. He’d made a small fire and he had a frying pan heating. He was going to treat her to fresh fish for lunch.
It was a good idea, except that they sat on the riverbank for three hours and at the end of it they had yellow fly bites and mosquito bites, and not one fish between them.
“It must have been this prehistoric fishing gear,” Candy remarked with a glowering look. “The fish probably laughed so hard that they sank to the bottom!”
“It isn’t prehistoric,” he said. “It gives fish a sporting chance.”
She waved her hand at the river. “Some sporting chance! And whoever uses worms to catch a self-respecting bass?”
“You just wait until the next bass rodeo, pilgrim,” he said with a mocking smile. “And we’ll see who can catch fish!”
She grinned at him. The word play was fun. He was fun. She’d smiled and laughed more in the past few days than in her whole recent life. Guy made her feel alive again. He’d knocked the chip off her shoulder about her past and led her into the light. She put down the pole, sighed and stretched lazily.
He watched her covetously. “A woman who likes to fish,” he mused, “and who doesn’t worry about getting her hands dirty.”
“I like to garden, too,” she remarked. “I used to plant flowers when I lived at home. Nobody does, now.”
He pursed his lips and stared at the ripples on the river as it ran lazily past the banks. He was thinking about flower beds and a small house to go with them, a house just big enough for two people.
She looked up at him with soft, warm brown eyes. “I’ve really enjoyed being here,” she said. “I’m sorry I have to leave tomorrow.”
Reality came crashing down on him. He turned his head and looked at her, and saw Anita’s eyes looking back at him. He blinked. “You have to leave?”
She nodded sadly. “I have to write up all these articles and get back to my desk. I expect I’ve got a month’s work piled up there.”
“In Denver.”
“Yes. In Denver.” She pulled in her line and put the pole down beside her. “It’s been the most wonderful week I can remember. Thank you for saving my life.”
He frowned. He was staring at his line, but he wasn’t seeing it. “Couldn’t you stay for another week?”
“I couldn’t justify the time,” she said miserably. “I can’t just chuck my job and do what I please. I don’t depend on my mother for my livelihood, you know,” she added. “I work for my living.”
He was more morose than he’d felt in years. He pulled in his own line and curled it around the pole. “I know how that is,” he said. “I work for my living, too.” He turned his head and looked down at her. He wanted to ask her to stay. He wanted to tell her what he was beginning to feel for her. But he couldn’t find the words.
She saw the hesitation and wondered about it. He got to his feet and gathered the poles silently, placing them back in the truck. He glanced deliberately at his watch.
“I’ve got another group of cattlemen checking in at the feedlot later,” he said, lifting his eyes to hers. “I’d offer you lunch, but I’m not going t
o have time.”
She smiled. “That’s okay. I enjoyed the fishing trip. Even though we didn’t catch any fish,” she added.
He wished he could make some humorous reply, but his heart was heavy and sad. He put out the campfire, gathered up the frying pan and the bottle of vegetable oil and put everything in the truck.
He drove her back to the motel in silence, his whole manner preoccupied and remote.
She got out at the door to her room, hesitating with the passenger door of the truck open. “I don’t guess you ever get to Denver?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not much reason to.”
“And this is the only time I’ve ever been to Jacobsville. I guess they won’t send me back.”
He searched her face and it hurt him to see the sadness in her dark eyes. He was remembering Anita again, he thought irritably, remembering how it had felt to lose her.
“It’s been fun,” he said with a forced smile. “I’m glad I got to know you. Keep up with that medicine,” he added firmly.
“I’ll take care of myself.” She hesitated. “You do the same,” she added gently.
He hated the concern in her eyes, the softness in her voice. He didn’t want to love someone who was in such a hurry to leave him.
He leaned over and closed the door. “Have a safe trip home,” he said. He threw up a hand and gunned the truck out of the parking lot.
Candy stared after him, perplexed. She’d thought they were building toward something, but he seemed anxious to get away from her. She bit her lower lip and turned to go into her room. Amazing how wrong her instincts were lately, she thought as she opened the door and went inside. She seemed to have no judgment whatsoever about men.
Guy, driving furiously back to the feedlot, was feeling something similar. He couldn’t bring himself to beg her to stay, after all. If her job was so important, then who was he to stop her? Perhaps he’d been too hasty and she didn’t want him on any permanent basis. That made him irritable, and the more he thought about it, the more frustrated he got.
By early evening, he was boiling mad. He had supper in the bunkhouse and then drove himself out of town to the most notorious bar in the county and proceeded to drink himself into forgetfulness.