“Yes.”
“In the hospital?”
“Yes.”
What about the germs? What about infection and whatever else he’d yelled about that morning?
She decided it was better not to ask.
“A live dog, right?”
He sighed heavily. “A live dog would be best. My patient is a nine-year-old girl named Kalinda. She was badly burned when the family barbecue exploded a few days ago. She’s had one surgery and is facing dozens more. Her parents are trying to cope. Kalinda is in pain and shock.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I do have her mother’s permission to be telling you this.”
“Okay.”
She wasn’t sure why that mattered, then remembered something about medical confidentiality. No doubt he wanted to make sure she understood he wasn’t breaking any rules.
“She’s in bed, right? The girl? Kalinda? She’s not walking around?”
“No.”
Montana thought about the dogs they had. A small one would be best. If Kalinda suffered any lung issues, then avoiding dander would be good, too.
“I have just the dog for you,” she said, smiling at him. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
THE WOMAN TURNED, as if she expected him to follow her. Simon didn’t want to go anywhere with the dog-trainer person, but he was here on a mission. Anything for his patients. He’d always believed that. He would do whatever he had to do so they could heal. Dealing with the likes of the woman before him was simply one more challenge he had to overcome.
As she glanced back at him, her long, blond hair caught the sun. He was aware of the colors, the various shades of light and dark gold, the slight wave. Her eyes were deep brown and sparkling with amusement. He had no doubt she was laughing at him.
He was uncomfortable, but that wasn’t news. He was uncomfortable anywhere that wasn’t a hospital. In the familiar space that was his kingdom, he felt at home.
The woman—Montana, he recalled her boss saying—led the way to a fenced in, grassy area. He heard several dogs barking and yipping. They sounded happy. The afternoon was warm, the sun bright.
Montana moved with an easy grace. Her feet were bare, her pink-painted toes contrasting with the dark green of the grass. They were hidden when she slipped into a pair of clogs, then stepped inside what he would guess was the kennel area.
The space was cleaner than he had expected. He didn’t notice any smell and the cages for the dogs were large. He saw big beds in plaid and plenty of toys. The lighting was good. It was obvious someone had put a lot of time and money into the facility.
“The dogs live here,” Montana said, facing him. “Dogs are pack animals, so they’re more comfortable in a group than in isolation. They’re nearly always with someone. We have college kids who spend the night. Just to make sure everything is all right. Sometimes they bring their significant others along and that gets interesting.”
She smiled as she spoke and it took him a minute to realize she meant the college students and not the dogs. Of course not the dogs. Dogs didn’t have significant others.
“Max has plenty of stories, but that’s not why you came,” she continued. “No.”
He knew he should make some kind of small talk. It made people more comfortable. He’d never seen the point, but then he didn’t see the point of most common rituals. Telling someone to have a nice day was beyond ridiculous. As if anyone had the power to make that happen.
She walked to a door that led outside. When she pushed it open and stepped onto the grass, at least a half dozen dogs came running. He followed, curious about them. He’d never had much contact with dogs. From the time he was eleven until he’d gone to college at sixteen, he’d been in a hospital. No dogs allowed.
Large dogs and small hurried forward with equal enthusiasm. He recognized the disastrous mutt from that morning and did his best to avoid her enthusiastic jumping. Montana petted them all, called out to a few and restored order more quickly than he had thought possible.
“Cece, come here, honey,” she said, then looked at him. “I think she’s going to be the right dog for you. Quiet, well behaved and, best of all, clean.”
A small apricot-colored poodle made her way to Montana. The dog was maybe a foot tall to the top of her head, with long legs and a slender body. When Montana said, “Up,” the dog turned so she could easily be scooped into the woman’s arms.
“She would be very happy to curl up next to Kalinda for as long as she would like,” Montana told him. “She’s great with kids, sweet tempered, and because she has hair rather than fur, no dander. We can keep her really clean, which I know is important.”
As she spoke, Cece stared at him. Her eyes were darker than Montana’s, and never left his. Her nose quivered, then her whole body began to tremble.
“Is she sick?” he asked, wondering if he should worry about transporting germs back to his patients.
Montana laughed. “Not in the way you mean.” She whispered something to the dog, who swiped her tongue across her chin. Montana turned her attention back to him. “She has a crush on you.”
“What?”
The dog was thrust toward him. He reacted instinctively, reaching for it.
She was lighter than he’d expected, with bones that felt delicate. Her fur was soft, her body warm. Even though he didn’t know how to hold her, she snuggled close, perfectly content to be next to him.
“Support her butt,” Montana told him.
He shifted slightly. Cece cuddled against his chest and stared at him with eyes that seemed able to see into his soul. He wondered if she was aware of all the flaws lurking there.
“She likes you.”
Montana spoke in a tone that told him that she was really thinking, “There’s no accounting for taste.”
“She seems nice enough,” he said, tentatively rubbing his fingers against the animal’s back. “As long as Kalinda will be safe.”
“You don’t have to worry. Cece has a great temperament. And I’ll be there the whole time.”
He had his doubts about how much help she would be, but if Kalinda wanted a dog then, by God, he would get her one.
He passed Cece back and made arrangements for her to be brought to the hospital the following day.
“For a test run,” he said. “If it helps, we continue the visits.”
“Of course.”
He turned to leave.
Montana, still holding the dog, walked with him. At the doorway they both paused, as if expecting the other to go first, then they moved at the same time.
They bumped into each other. People did it every day. Simon was used to all kinds of casual contact. He touched his patients, was passed things during surgery. Every now and then he even enjoyed the company of a woman for a few hours. So he had no reason to expect the brief brush of her arm against his to register.
But it did. The second Montana touched him, the second he felt the heat from her body, something large and uncontrolled stirred to life. He was so surprised he came to a stop, and she did, too. They bumped again, which caused her to grin at him.
“Okay. You first.”
Easy words. A casual, happy smile. As if she couldn’t feel the rage of desire that burst to life like an explosion.
He’d never felt anything like it before, had no way of knowing what he was supposed to do next. He wasn’t sure he could keep from reaching for her, kissing her. Because that’s what he needed—not just the possession of her, but her hunger as well.
“Are you all right?”
Simon forced himself back to the moment. He hung on to the ragged remains of his civility and nodded.
“Yes. Thank you for your time.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly. He suspected she was remembering her comment from earlier in the day—when she’d accused him of having a stick up his ass. Better that than the truth, he told himself. Better for both of them.
He quickly made his escape. When he was back in his car, he was disgusted to find t
hat his hands trembled and his sexual thoughts had produced a predictable manifestation. Pray God she hadn’t noticed, he thought grimly, starting the car engine.
As he drove back to the hospital, he tried to figure out what had happened. He’d never considered himself overly sexual. Every few months, when the need became a distraction, he found someone who wanted what he did—physical release and little else. The events were pleasant enough, but more about biology than anything else. He’d never felt compelled. Driven.
It was chemistry, he told himself as he entered the main highway and headed back to Fool’s Gold. One of those quirks of DNA that was intriguing but ultimately meaningless. So, he’d briefly wanted Montana. Later he would see her and everything would be fine. He had his work. Nothing else was as important. He had his work and his patients and that would always be enough.
CHAPTER THREE
JO’S BAR WAS ONE OF MONTANA’S favorite places in town. Unlike most bars, this one catered to women. The colors were girl friendly, with the large TVs turned to shows like American’s Next Top Model and the shopping networks. Drinks were fun and the list of food came with a selection of offerings for the calorie conscious. As for the men, they had a room in back, with a pool table and plenty of sports. But at Jo’s, women ruled.
Montana walked in and spotted her sisters already at a booth.
Technically Nevada was the oldest, with Dakota born in the middle and Montana last. They were separated by all of fourteen minutes. When they were young, they had truly been identical, nearly impossible for even family members to tell apart. As they’d grown, their personality differences had influenced their appearance.
Nevada was the most sensible of the sisters. A civil engineer, she favored short hair, jeans, shirts and boots that were practical on work sites. Dakota was as smart as Nevada, but slightly more nurturing. She was a child psychologist by trade, with a Ph.D. in her field. In the past three months, she’d adopted a little girl from Kazakhstan, fallen in love, gotten pregnant and then engaged.
Montana loved her sisters but there were times she felt like the family screwup. It was only the past year that she’d discovered what she really wanted to do with her life. Working with the therapy dogs was everything to her. She would deal with the fact that her love life was nonexistent another time.
“How’s it going?” she asked as she approached the table.
“Great.” Dakota slid in to make room for her. “Can I persuade you to order a lemondrop tonight?”
Montana greeted Nevada, then turned to Dakota. “Why?”
“I want to smell it.”
Because being pregnant meant not drinking, Montana thought. She looked across the table. “And you wouldn’t indulge her?”
Nevada motioned to her vodka and tonic. “I offered to let her smell this.”
Dakota shuddered. “No, thanks. Tonic water? I don’t think so.”
“Then I’ll take care of your need to sniff,” Montana said as Jo, the bartender, came over. “A lemondrop.”
Dakota grinned. “Because she loves me.”
“I could make you a virgin lemondrop,” Jo offered.
“Isn’t that just fresh squeezed lemons and simple sugar?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I was hoping for more.”
“We all need a goal,” Jo muttered and walked away.
Montana watched her go. Jo had arrived in Fool’s Gold a few years before and bought the failing bar. She’d had the money to completely refurbish it, but had never talked about where she’d gotten the funds. In fact, Jo rarely talked about her past. Rumors flew about everything, from her escaping an abusive husband to being a Mafia princess hiding out from her family. No one knew the truth and Jo wasn’t the kind of woman who took well to questions.
“Finn home with Hannah tonight?” Nevada asked.
Dakota nodded. “They’re watching Sleeping Beauty. He won’t admit it, but I swear he loves the movie as much as she does.”
“Probably not news you want to spread around,” Nevada told her.
Dakota laughed. “I’m not worried about what people might say. Let them get their own guy.”
“I wish,” Montana said wistfully, refusing to figure out exactly how long it had been since she’d been on a date. Too long, for sure. Soon, she promised herself. And this time it would go better. This time she wouldn’t feel as if she wasn’t good enough.
“We’re a town with a man shortage, remember,” Nevada said.
“Men are moving here. Last year we had bus-loads.”
“Oh, yeah.” Nevada picked up her drink. “I’m dying for a guy who can walk away from his life and take a bus to a place he’s never been simply because he’s heard there are desperate women there. That’s my idea of a dream come true.”
Dakota wrinkled her nose. “Have you considered your sarcasm is one of the reasons you’re still single?”
“No. Sarcasm is my version of charm.”
“How’s that working for you?”
“Just fine.” Nevada scowled. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She turned to Montana. “Distract her, please.”
Montana knew just what to say. “Mayor Marsha came to see me today.”
Dakota groaned. “That’s never good. What did she want?”
“There’s a new doctor in town. A plastic surgeon who specializes in children who have been burned. He goes from place to place, only staying a few months. She wants me to convince him to settle permanently in Fool’s Gold.”
As she finished talking, she instinctively tensed, waiting for her sisters to start laughing at her. After all, why would anyone think she could convince Dr. Simon Bradley of anything? But they didn’t laugh.
Dakota shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”
“Why? She said I should charm him. I’m not charming. I wouldn’t know what to say or do.”
Her sisters exchanged a glance. “Just be yourself,” Nevada told her. “That’s enough charm for any man. Trust me, he won’t know what hit him.”
“He seems amazingly unimpressed by me.”
“Are you sure? Have you looked in the mirror?” Dakota asked with a laugh. “I know that in theory we’re identical, but you’re the pretty one. And funny. How can he resist you?”
Jo brought Montana’s lemondrop. She appreciated the timing. Thanking the other woman meant it was more difficult for her mouth to drop open. The pretty one? Since when?
“I’m not pretty. I mean, not any prettier.” She’d always thought that her sisters were gorgeous but that she was not quite there. As for being funny, maybe, but it wasn’t always on purpose. “He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met. He’s really serious. Stick-up-the-butt serious.” She told them what had happened at the hospital.
“I’ve met Fluffy,” Nevada grumbled. “She’s a menace. Adorable, but not the best-trained dog on the planet.”
“She has a big personality.”
“And no sense of her size. She needs to be with a family. One with boys.”
“Dr. Bradley would agree with you.”
“He came to see you,” Dakota reminded her. “He needs your help. You can bond over that. Then show him around the town. That will give you things to talk about.”
“Maybe. I could—”
The phone on the bar rang. Instantly the large room went quiet as everyone watched Jo pick it up.
“Is it time?” she asked, sounding worried.
After a pause, she shook her head. “Not Pia,” she told the crowd. Conversation resumed.
“Poor Pia,” Dakota said sympathetically. “I know she’s ready for the babies to arrive.”
Pia was pregnant with twins. Everyone had assumed they would come early, in the way that twins often did. But not Pia’s. So far they were hanging on until the very last day.
“She’s huge,” Nevada said. “I saw her two days ago and I swear my back started to hurt just looking at her.”
Dakota raised her eyebrows. “Talk to Pia about your doctor friend. She
knows everything about the town and it will be a distraction for her.”
“Great idea,” Montana said, holding out her lemondrop for Dakota to sniff.
“If that doesn’t work, you can seduce him into staying,” Nevada teased. “Wrap yourself in cellophane.”
“I’ve never understood the point of that,” Dakota admitted.
“You’re a present,” Nevada said. “Gift wrapped.”
“I don’t think Dr. Bradley is into that kind of stuff,” Montana said. He was so stern. She couldn’t imagine him smiling, let alone getting naked and having sex. Not that he wasn’t sexy—in a scary, distant kind of way.
“Then skip the cellophane,” Dakota told her with a grin. “All men are into naked.”
“Right,” Montana said, laughing. “I’ll show up at his hotel room naked. That will make Mayor Marsha so proud.”
“At least it will give us all something to talk about.”
MONTANA STEPPED OUT of the hospital elevator with Cece in her arms. As they approached the doors leading to the burn ward, she drew in a deep breath.
“There are going to be rules,” she told the dog. “You’re going to have to stay clean and not jump and generally be well behaved. Kalinda is really sick and you’re going to make her feel better. At least, that’s the theory.”
She smiled into Cece’s warm, brown eyes. “This would go a lot better if you spoke English.”
“If the dog spoke English, we would have other issues.”
Montana spun toward the speaker and saw Simon standing by the doors leading to the burn unit.
He was as tall as she remembered, and just as incredibly good-looking. At least on the one side. The white coat was still intimidating, she realized as she swallowed.
She blinked at him, replaying his words in her mind. “Was that humor?” she asked, before she could stop herself. “Were you being funny?”
Nothing about his expression changed. “Apparently not.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. I should have laughed. I’m just nervous. You’re really scary.”
One eyebrow rose. “Do you always say what you think?”
“I try not to,” she admitted. “Sometimes I can’t help myself.”
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