Mission: M.D.

by Linda Turner

  And his feelings for her were anything but paternal.

  His jaw tightened just at the thought of her bringing some jerk home with her, but she’d come home alone. And that irritated him even more. What was wrong with the men of Hunter’s Ridge? Didn’t they have eyes in their head? She was gorgeous…and, apparently, available. Why weren’t they lined up at the bakery every morning, asking her out like he was?

  Maybe because she shot them down just like she did you!

  A reluctant grin tugged at his mouth at the thought. Okay, so she was no pushover. Any man with any brains in his head would find that incredibly attractive, not to mention damn challenging. He certainly did.

  Which was why he was sitting on his front porch like a Peeping Tom, watching the lights go on, then off, in her house.

  Shaking his head—when had he sunk to this level?—he pushed to his feet. It was time to call it a night. She was safe and snug in her own home, and he didn’t have to worry about her anymore.

  But before he could move, the floodlights next door were flipped on and Rachel stepped outside, carrying a bag of trash. She carried it to the curb, then immediately headed for the old-fashioned, detached garage behind the house, where her trash cans were stored.

  Watching her, Turk knew he should have let her carry the cans to the curb herself. She obviously didn’t want to speak to him, and while he wouldn’t have normally let that stop him, there was something about her solemn expression, the slight slump of her shoulders, that told him her evening hadn’t gone as planned. She looked down, sad, lonely. Frowning, he took one look at her face and found himself heading straight for her.

  “Need some help?”

  Obviously caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t see him striding toward her until he spoke. Startled, she jumped. “What? No! I’m fine—I can get it.”

  “Are you sure? You can take one side, and I’ll get the other.

  “It’s not that heavy,” she insisted, but when she tried to lift the can on her own, she grunted at the effort it took just to pick it up an inch off the ground.

  “You are so stubborn,” he chuckled, nudging her out of the way. “Here. Let me do that.” Stepping around her, he picked up the can himself, only to grunt in surprise. “What the devil have you got in here? Rocks?”

  The corner of her mouth turned up into a half smile. “Actually, it’s just some old magazines. I couldn’t sleep the other night, so I decided to clean out some things. I guess I got carried away.”

  “You got that right,” he chuckled. Huffing and puffing, he carried the trash can to the curb. “There! What about the other one? Did you need that one carried to the curb, too?”

  “Oh, no,” she assured him quickly. “Just the one, tonight. But thanks, anyway.”

  “No problem,” he said easily. He should have wished her good-night and gone inside then, but his curiosity had always gotten him into trouble, and tonight was no different. “So how was your date?”

  She shot him a sharp look. “Who said I had a date? Have you been spying on me?”

  A crooked grin propped up one corner of his mouth. “I don’t have to spy, Rachel. All I have to do is look out the window. You looked…hot.”

  He was the one and only man to notice all evening. Why did that set her heart somersaulting in her breast? “I didn’t have a date,” she admitted huskily. “I just went out with an old girlfriend whose divorce was final today. She wanted to see if she still had what it took to attract a man.”

  “And did she?”

  A slight smile warmed her eyes. “Let’s just say she didn’t have to buy her own drinks. That’s a start.”

  “And what about you?”

  Surprised, she blinked. “What about me?”

  “Who bought your drinks?”

  “I did.” Suddenly realizing that she was discussing her private life with a man who was little more than a stranger to her, she stiffened. “It’s late,” she said coolly. “I have to go in.”

  Watching her walk away, Turk wanted to ask her if she paid her own way because no one else offered or if she preferred it that way, but he already knew the answer. Rachel Martin was a woman who leaned on no one.

  Chapter 6

  In the dead of night, the phone rang sharply, cutting through the quiet stillness that shrouded the house. Startled, Turk jerked awake and squinted at the clock on his nightstand. It was 2:00 a.m. Swearing, he fumbled for the phone on his nightstand. “This better be good.”

  “Poor baby. Did I wake you?”

  Already drifting back to sleep, he stiffened, his blood suddenly ice cold. Laureen. He would have recognized her voice in the depths of hell. How the devil had she gotten his phone number? It was restricted.

  “What do you want, Laureen?”

  “Just you, sweetheart,” she purred. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Why haven’t you called me? You promised you would once you were settled.”

  “I’ve been busy,” he retorted. “It takes a lot of work to set up a new practice.”

  “Of course it does—which is why you should have taken me with you. I would have helped you hire your staff. And who’s doing your decorating, sweetheart? Please tell me you didn’t get one of those stuffed shirts who specializes in medical and dental offices. They’ll make your waiting room look like a morgue. You want something warm and cozy and homey. Why don’t you let me help you?”

  “How did you get my phone number, Laureen?”

  “I’m a resourceful girl, sweetheart,” she laughed. “You know that. That’s why you didn’t give me your new number. You wanted to see if I could find it on my own.”

  “I didn’t give it to you because I didn’t want you to have it,” he said bluntly. “We’re not dating. We’re not a couple. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”

  “You’re just afraid,” she said easily. “And I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m going to hurt you or anything. The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one I’d been waiting for all my life.”

  “Don’t—”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you’re not ready to talk about your feelings for me yet, and that’s okay. Take all the time you need. I can wait. I know we’ll be together in the end. Now…tell me about the house. What’s it look like? Am I going to like it? How big is the bedroom? Does it have a fireplace? If it doesn’t, that’s okay. We can put one in. I want our bedroom to be the most romantic place in the world. I’ve been looking at bedding—”

  His blood running cold, Turk didn’t even try to stop her. Her voice soft and husky and eerily seductive, she described a bedroom that sounded like a silken trap, complete with candles and wine and mirrors on the ceiling. They would spend hours together, days, making love, locked away from the world and needing no one but each other.

  Another woman would have teased him with the fantasy, made it a joke when she realized he wasn’t interested, and dropped it. But this was no joke to Laureen. Somehow, some way, she intended to make her fantasy come true—it was just a matter of time.

  And that scared the hell out of him. She was a sick puppy. He’d never personally had any dealings with a stalker, but he suspected Laureen had all the markings of one. She already had his phone number. Did she have his address, also? What exactly was the woman capable of?

  Not willing to go there, he rudely broke into her fantasy. “There is no us, Laureen. You have to listen to me. We only went out a couple of times. I’m not in love with you.”

  He expected an explosion of anger, but she only chuckled. “Stop teasing, silly. I know you fell in love with me the minute you laid eyes on me. I saw it in your eyes.”

  “No, you did not,” he said firmly. “I don’t love you. I never loved you. I never will love you. I’m not trying to be cruel, but I can’t let you continue this fantasy. You need to move on with your life and find someone else. I have.”

  He hadn’t, of course. He was just telling her that. There was no relationship—they’d gon
e out to dinner twice, end of story. That hardly constituted a relationship. And he had moved on…to Hunter’s Ridge, to his own practice, his own home, to—

  Rachel.

  The thought came from out of the blue, nearly knocking him out of his shoes. What the devil was wrong with him? He didn’t have a relationship was Rachel! He hardly knew her. Okay, so he’d spent the last few days pressuring her to go out with him. He liked her—

  Images of the kiss he’d given her floated before his mind’s eye, teasing him, heating his blood. Okay, he thought with a silent groan, he more than liked the woman. He was attracted to her. He wanted to take her out. He wanted to—

  “What do you mean…you’ve moved on?” Laureen asked sharply, jerking him out of his own fantasy. “You can’t! You’re mine! Who is she? What’s her name? Damn it, Turk, tell me!”

  Her rage was instantaneous, like a tornado that dropped out of a clear sky. Stunned, Turk almost dropped the phone. Screaming obscenities at him, she called him every name in the book.

  Another man might have tried to reason with her, but he wasn’t a psychiatrist and she needed the kind of help he couldn’t give her. Without a word, he quietly hung up, then turned off all his phones. Tomorrow, he’d call the phone company and change not only his home phone number, but his cell…again. He didn’t doubt that she’d find a way to get the new numbers, but hopefully, it would take her a while. In the meantime, he was going to also talk to his lawyer about a restraining order…just in case he needed one in the future.

  The third Saturday of October, antique dealers from around the state brought their treasures to town for Market Days and set up booths on the square. It was always Rachel’s favorite weekend of the year. Leaving her employees in charge of the bakery, she headed for the square at dawn, her VW Bug loaded for bear with equipment and pastries, and quickly began to set up her booth. Other venders were doing the same, and soon the square was thriving with life as bargain hunters and tourists who flocked to Hunter’s Ridge for a day of antiquing hit the streets.

  Decorating her booth with a garland of autumn leaves, Rachel had just opened for business when her first customer of the day stopped by. “I knew it! You’re handling everything by yourself again this year, aren’t you?” Libby Dunkin scolded as she stepped forward to help her with the garland. “I told Henry you needed help, so don’t tell me you’ve got it all under control. I’ve got eyes, girl. Why didn’t you make Mick come with you? Or Jenny? There’s no telling what you’re paying those lazy bums—make them work for their salary!”

  “They do work,” she chuckled. “They’re holding the fort down at the bakery and making sure I have everything I need. When I get low on doughnuts, Mick makes runs over here so I don’t have to leave the booth.”

  “And who helps you when you get snowed under with customers?” she retorted, nodding toward the people who were already lining up. “You need help, missy. Did you bring another apron?”

  For an answer, Rachel handed her one of the spares she’d brought with her. “Only if you let me pay you, though.”

  “Oh, no you don’t! You just donate that money to a charity or something. I don’t need it.”

  Her blue eyes twinkling, Rachel made no effort to hold back a grin. “Well, if that’s the way you want it. I was going to give you a pecan pie to take home to Henry, but if you don’t want it—”

  “What? Did you say pecan pie? Of course I want it! Henry would have my hide, girl, if he knew I turned down a pie from you. Especially pecan! What do you want me to do? Just say the word.”

  “You keep track of the money and I’ll take care of the inventory.”

  “Sounds good to me,” she said, taking a seat behind the table where Rachel had set up the change box. “Let’s get started.”

  The next customer in line bought a dozen doughnuts and an equal number of pigs in a blanket. The rush was on. For the next two hours, neither Rachel nor Libby had time to take a deep breath.

  When the rush ended as quickly as it had begun, Libby collapsed in her chair like a wilted flower. “Finally! I was beginning to think we were never going to get a break!”

  “Now you know what it’s like at the bakery every morning,” Rachel said with a laugh. “Why don’t you go stretch your legs while you can and take a break? I can handle things for now.”

  She didn’t have to tell her twice. “I won’t be gone long,” she promised.

  “Take your time. I’ll be fine.”

  Taking advantage of the lull, Rachel took a quick inventory of the products she hadn’t yet sold, re-stocked the shelves with her vastly depleted supplies, then called the bakery for a delivery. There would, she knew, be a big rush around one, when people would want dessert after eating lunch. Then Libby would see what a true rush was.

  “Rachel! There you are! I was just telling Benny that you always set up a booth for market days. Doesn’t she look pretty, Benny?”

  “Yeah, she does, Aunt Mildred,” he said obediently. “I like her red sweater. It’s nice and tight.”

  “Benny! Stop that! You shouldn’t talk like that to Rachel. Apologize immediately.”

  “Of course,” he said smoothly. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I hope I didn’t offend you. Let me make it up to you and take you out to dinner. You name the day, the time, the place, and we’ll go.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, sweetheart!” Mildred exclaimed, pleased. “You should take her to the new restaurant on Second Avenue—the Bistro. I’ve heard it’s excellent. I’m sure you’ll love it, Rachel.”

  Not with Benny Johnson, Rachel thought in revulsion. “I can’t,” she said flatly.

  “But why?”

  “You have to have lunch,” he pointed out. “We can go one day on your lunch break.”

  What did it take to get through to these people? Rachel wondered. She’d told them time after time she wasn’t interested, but they refused to listen, and she was sick of it!

  Desperate to make them both realize once and for all that she was never, ever, going to go out with Benny, she said, “I didn’t want to tell you this—I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings—but I can’t go out with Benny because I’m dating someone else.”

  “Who?” Mildred demanded harshly, scowling. “Hunter’s Ridge isn’t that big, Rachel. If you were dating someone, I would have heard about it.”

  “He’s new in town,” she retorted. “You wouldn’t know him. The minute I met him, I knew he was the one. I’m sorry, Benny, but—”

  “She’s taken,” Turk said smoothly, coming up behind her to slip an arm around her waist and pull her close. His blue eyes dancing with mischief when she jumped in surprise, he grinned. “Hi, sweetheart. Sorry I’m late. I had an emergency at the clinic this morning. So introduce me to your friends.”

  He was enjoying himself far too much, but Rachel had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. “Mildred, Benny…this is Turk Garrison. He’s the new doctor in town.”

  Mildred looked like she’d swallowed a pickle at that, but she forced a weak smile. “I read about the new clinic in the paper. I didn’t realize you and Rachel were….”

  “Dating?” he supplied with a crooked smile when she hesitated. “I asked her out the first time I laid eyes on her. Didn’t I, sweetheart?”

  Heat climbing in her cheeks, Rachel couldn’t deny it. “Yes, he did. He was quite a pest.”

  “That’s what she loves about me,” he confided to Benny.

  “Turk—”

  “It’s true, sweetheart,” he said at her protest. “She can’t resist a tease,” he told Benny with a wink. “Lucky for me, huh? So…Benny, what do you do?”

  “He’s in insurance,” his aunt answered for him. “And quite successful.”

  “I’m sure,” Turk replied. “He seems to have the personality for it. And it is one of the necessary evils of life, you know.”

  Mildred gasped at that. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Well, somebody should. I’m paying a fortune in
medical malpractice insurance and just making the insurance companies richer. It’s a racket, but I guess there’s not much Benny can do about that except keep pocketing those premiums. But you’re not here to discuss business, are you?

  “How about some cookies?” he asked with an innocent look he must have spent years practicing in front of a mirror. “Or a pie? My Rachel-pooh makes the most incredible cherry pie. Evelyn taught her. I suppose you two know Evelyn? She’s a sweetheart, isn’t she? She put in a good word for me when Rachel wouldn’t give me the time of day. You should call her, Benny. I bet she could help you meet a nice woman. She seems to know everyone in town. Of course, Rachel’s one of a kind, but there’s bound to be some nice single women in Hunter’s Ridge. Have you tried going to church?”

  Mildred gasped, outraged. “You have some nerve!”

  Far from offended, he only grinned. “You know, I’ve been told that by a number of people, usually when they don’t get what they want out of me or someone I care about. Is that why you’re so upset, Mrs. Johnson? Because I’m in the way of Benny asking Rachel out? Too bad. Let him get his own woman.”

  Rachel’s mine.

  He didn’t say the words, but Rachel heard them, nevertheless. With heat climbing in her cheeks, she shot him a warning look, but before she could say a word, Mildred huffed, “If this is the kind of man you’re attracted to, Rachel, then it’s a good thing Benny found out now. He’s nothing like that, and the two of you would have never suited. C’mon, Benny. Let’s get out of here. From now on, we’ll go to Fran Steven’s bakery when we want any pastries. Her doughnuts are better, anyway.”

  His black eyes cold as they swept over Rachel, Benny said, “I think you’re right, Aunt Mildred. Rachel obviously isn’t the woman she led us to believe she was. Isn’t that Tanya Petty looking at the miniature windmills? Let’s go talk to her.”

  They left without sparing Rachel or Turk another glance, hurrying across the square as if the hounds of hell were after them. Watching them greet Tanya as if she was Benny’s long-lost love, Rachel felt as if she’d just won the lottery. Laughing, she impulsively threw herself into Turk’s arms. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! My God, do you know what you’ve done?”