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“For catching you when you fell.”
She paused a moment, then nodded. “Yes. You were kind. Pushy,” she said, her lips tilting in a smile, “but kind.”
“Yeah, but my pushy is better than Bill’s pushy.” She looked bone weary. “What are you going to do now?”
“Turn my sound machine to ocean waves and head for the Mexican Riviera.”
“Take your rest. You earned it,” Tyler said. “You did some heart mending tonight with TJ.”
She shook her head and shrugged. “All I did was read to him.”
He lifted his hand to her cheek. “You know it was more. Maybe you weren’t heart mending. Heart stealing.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “I thought we’d decided you didn’t need to flirt with me.”
He chuckled, liking the softness of her skin against his fingers. “Your hair is perfect, your clothes classic. You look like a cool, controlled lady who knows exactly how to rule her world. I don’t know if I can resist the urge to mess your hair and rock your world.”
She dipped her head slightly, and her eyes, well, her eyes dared the devil in him. “Try,” she said, and left him staring at her door.
Jill leaned against the door and let the dark quiet of the condo seep into her. It would have been nice to be held right now. It would have been nice to feel strong arms around her and to hear reassuring words. A high-impact visual of Tyler flashed through her mind, and she tried to shake it off. He was tempting. He shouldn’t be, but he was.
She remembered the strength of his body during the short ride from the hospital, and the combination of fire and gentleness in his blue eyes. He was the kind of man who never let a woman forget she was a woman and he was a man.
In a weak moment, when her defenses were lowered, she could be susceptible.
She shook her head and pushed away his image. She took a few slow, deep breaths to clear the noise from her mind and waited for the other images she’d run from during the past four years….
Seven months pregnant, she’d been certain she looked like a beached whale, but she’d been too excited to care. Her baby was due in two months, and every kick she felt inside her made her smile. The ultrasound had revealed she was growing a boy; he was so active she’d called him “grasshopper.” Her husband of one year was eagerly anticipating their baby, too. The nursery was ready, she’d scheduled a long maternity leave, and she had never felt more complete in her life.
It was winter, and on her way home from work she drove the busy, slippery northern Virginia route with extra caution. When the truck careened over the median, headed directly for her, there was nowhere to go and nothing she could do.
Hours later she had awakened in the hospital. She remembered touching her stomach waiting for the kick of her baby inside her. She remembered how the anesthesia couldn’t dull the slice of fear and pain. Grasshopper. She must have cried out. The nurse and doctor came to her side, and she heard the fateful words. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hershey. We did everything we could, but we couldn’t save your baby. He was too young and lost too much blood.”
Jill had never felt so empty in her life. She cried like a child. She wanted to run home, to run away from her pain, but she had been too seriously injured, she was told. She had lost too much blood and had almost died, too. There were more than a few moments she’d wished she had died.
Her husband was remote. Jill blamed herself. She suspected her husband blamed her, too. If only she had left five minutes earlier. Or five minutes later. If only.
Jill felt the salty moisture from her eyes stream down her cheeks. She slid her hands down to her flat belly and remembered Grasshopper’s kick. The memory and the pain were different than she’d expected, perhaps sweeter because of the passing of time. Jill took a deep breath. Maybe the anticipation had been worse than the reality.
But fainting? She swiped her cheeks and rolled her eyes. She hadn’t fared well on her first test here in Fort Worth. She smiled wryly thinking, in that case, she had nowhere to go but up.
The following morning Jill took her sound machine and kava tea with her to the hospital. The goal was to surround herself with comfort to encourage creativity and peace.
Trina looked at her, perplexed. “Are you sure you don’t want a honey bun and some good strong coffee? Dr. Logan told me to make sure you get plenty of food today.”
Jill smiled. “Thank you. I already ate cereal.”
“But a midmorning snack—”
“Okay,” she said, sensing surrender would work better than protest. “I’ll eat a honey bun.” Comfort food, she told herself.
Trina sighed in relief. “Good. I don’t want Dr. Logan mad at me. Have you ever seen a doctor with a better backside?”
“I can’t say I’ve noticed his backside,” Jill said wryly, which wasn’t exactly true. She’d been up close and personal with Tyler’s legs and backside when she’d ridden home on his motorcycle.
“Well, it’s pretty darn terrific,” Trina said. “And if he smiles and squints his eyes at the same time, he gets a little dimple right here,” she said, pointing to the hollow of her jaw.
Jill tapped her pencil on her desk. If she heard much more about how wonderful Tyler was, she might be too nauseated to finish the honey bun. In Trina’s eyes, the man was nearly a god, certainly a hero. That thought stopped her, then her mind tumbled through a half-dozen scenarios.
“I’m bugging you, aren’t I?”
“No. You might be helping,” Jill said. “I’m just thinking of ways to get the wing.” She pinched a piece off the honey bun and put it in her mouth. “Maybe…” She closed her eyes, then opened them and smiled at her idea. “I’ve got it. An ad campaign featuring Tyler. We could take pictures in his scrubs and in his white jacket and invite people to donate funds to become members of Tyler’s heart menders’ posse.”
“Bumper stickers,” Trina said.
“Yes. Great,” Jill said. “I’d like you to call the on-site PR coordinator so I can bounce this off her as soon as possible and arrange for a photographer.”
Trina nodded. “And do you want me to call Dr. Logan, too?”
Jill shook her head. “Not until I take care of the groundwork.”
“But what if he won’t do it?” Trina asked. “Some men, even good-looking men are funny about getting their picture taken.”
Jill chuckled. Tyler’s picture wasn’t just going to be taken. If she had her way, the campaign would be plastered across all the local media along with a few billboards. “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with Tyler.” She thought about his Texas-size ego. “He’ll like this.”
“I don’t like this,” Tyler said late that afternoon when Jill told him her plan.
She did a double take. “Why? You’re handsome and appealing. I’m sure the camera will love you as will everyone who sees your pictures. We’ll get the funding for the wing in no time and you’ll probably get a few hundred decent and indecent proposals, too. You’ll be a hometown hero.”
He supposed he could feel flattered that Jill thought he was handsome. He wouldn’t mind her stroking more than his ego. At the moment, however, he felt more like a prize bull being readied for a parade around the stockyard. Uneasy, Tyler shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not celebrity material.”
She cocked her head to one side, her eyes glinting with a curiosity that grabbed at his gut and shimmied down. “Don’t sell yourself short. Besides, this will be temporary.”
“Five minutes?” he asked dryly.
She smiled gently. “Two weeks intensive, two more weeks of follow-up.”
Tyler stifled an oath. “Don’t you have any other ideas?”
Her face puzzled, Jill stood. “Yes, but this one is the best.”
“This sounds an awful lot like that stupid bachelor calendar the Daughters of Texas put together every year,” he grumbled. “I hear most of the guys don’t wear much more than briefs and oil.”
Jill chuckled, then bit her lip as if she sensed he wasn’t amused. “You’ll be wearing the clothes you wear to work. I must confess oil had not entered my mind.”
He scratched his jaw. “I like my privacy. I’m not cut out to be a poster boy. All I want is to do my surgery, take care of my patients and lead my life the way I want. If I’d wanted a lot of attention, I would’ve chosen the rodeo.”
Jill shook her head. “I would have sworn you would do just about anything for this wing.”
He thought about the wing: how important it was to him and how important it would be to the patients. “I would,” he said slowly, the words torn from him. “If it’s absolutely necessary,” he added. “I’m surprised you want me to do the media. I’m not the most politically correct guy in the corral. Have you talked with Clarence?”
“No, but you don’t need to be totally politically correct. You’re passionate about what you do. With very little coaching, that passion will come through.”
Feeling trapped, Tyler swiped his hand over his face. “My brother will never let me live this down. What in hell made you come up with this idea?”
Her smooth, composed expression faltered, and her cheeks bloomed with color. “Just a side remark Trina made. It doesn’t really matter. It was just part of the creative process. The results are what matters.”
Her discomfort piqued his curiosity. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well, since I’ve just been signed on to the Jill Hershey Modeling Agency, I’d like to know how it came about.”
She glanced away and waved her hand in a dismissing gesture. “It was just a silly remark. I’m sure you know Trina is a fan of yours.”
“What was the remark?”
She rearranged the location of a pencil holder on her desk. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yep.”
She looked up and sighed. “She said you had the best backside of any doctor she’d ever seen.”
“So you picked me for my butt. How shallow,” he said in an amused voice. “I’m surprised at you.”
“This is not about your butt,” she said. “I chose you because you will photograph well and you embody the image of a true Texan and the possibility, the dream of a hero.”
“It’s about image and press.”
She lifted her chin. “It’s about understanding what the public’s dreams are. I believe most people feel there has been a shortage of heroes. By using you, your image, and what you do we not only give people the dream of a hero, we offer them the opportunity to be heroes, too.” She paused a half beat and could have knocked him flat with the expression in her gaze. “I dare you.”
Silence followed, but Tyler felt as if a lightning bolt had cracked through him. Her passion, the same passion he felt, sparked from her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed with it. Her voice resonated with it. He felt an inexplicable promise of fulfillment, of a missing piece he hadn’t thought was missing. In that moment he craved her in every way a man could crave a woman, and he’d never felt that way before.
He bit back an oath and tried to cover his confusion with a chuckle. “Okay, when do I strip?”
She blinked, and the color in her cheeks intensified. “You won’t have to strip,” she said weakly.
“Now I know why they call you a sorceress,” he said.
“I’m not a sorceress,” she quickly denied. “I just get the job done.”
“No, you do more. You get people health care they need and give the contributors something they need. That’s more than getting the job done.” He held her gaze, the thread of connection drawing him while her eyes warned him off. “What about you, Jill? Who is your hero?”
The light in her eyes dimmed a little, but her posture remained erect. “I learned the hard way not to count on someone else to be my hero. I can be my own hero.”
He felt a strange stinging sensation and fought the strangest, craziest desire to be her hero. Pushing the insanity inside, he replaced it with another. “What are you doing for dinner?”
“It’s been a long day, but I’d like to sketch out some more ideas while they’re fresh in my head. I’m eating at home,” she said firmly.
I do not want to spend my evening with you, she might as well have said. Tyler got her message loud and clear. If he was the nice guy everyone thought he was, he would comply with her wishes; and if he told himself she wasn’t worth his time, he would leave her alone.
Jill’s doorbell rang at eight o’clock while she was listening to a classical music CD and writing potential ad slogans. Frowning, she glanced at the door and rose. Since she’d just arrived in Fort Worth a few days ago, she hadn’t really made any friends, so she couldn’t imagine who— She looked through the peephole and saw Tyler wearing a cocky grin and carrying a small brown paper bag.
She opened the door and blocked the doorway. She didn’t want him in her temporary home tonight. The man took up entirely too much space of every room he entered. He could make a wheat field feel crowded.
“Hi,” he said. “Since you fainted in my arms last night, I thought I should make sure you’re okay tonight. No relapses?”
“Thank you. None. I’m fine.”
“I forgot to tell you that TJ made it through the surgery today.”
She felt a softening inside her. “Thank you. I’m glad to hear that. I’ll have to go visit him.”
He lifted the bag. “Also brought some Blue Bell ice cream to share with you and find out more about my modeling assignment.”
Give up, Jill told herself. “Come in,” she said, unable to conceal her reticence.
He gave a bad-boy grin and sauntered inside. “You were going to let me stay out there all night.” He made a tsking sound. “I can see you need some exposure to our Texan hospitality. What made you let me in? My smile, charm or great butt?”
Just for fun, she was sorely tempted to say his great butt. “Ice cream,” she told him. “It’s one of my five basic food groups.”
He plastered a crestfallen expression on his face. “The ice cream was a bonus. I was supposed to be the main draw. I don’t know if my ego can take this.”
“Oh, I’m sure it can,” she said. “Isn’t it the biggest part of you?”
“Oh,” he said, giving a rough chuckle and shaking his head. He moved closer, crowding her. “That’s a terrible thing to say to a man. You know you’re asking for trouble, don’t you?”
Three
Uh-oh. Jill’s heart slammed into her rib cage at the seductively predatory look on Tyler’s face. She licked her lips. “I thought we decided you didn’t need to flirt with me.”
“You said that. Not me,” he said, moving closer.
She took a step backward. Her heart still racing, she struggled to remain rational. “This is silly. You have an entire hospital full of women interested in you. The only reason you’re doing this is because I’m not interested in you.”
“You’re not?” he said, his voice rippling over her nerve endings.
She took another step back. “I told you I’m here to do a job.”
“And you’re not at all attracted to me,” he said.
Jill took another step and felt the wall behind her. “You’re a flirt.”
He nodded. “You don’t like flirts.”
“I haven’t had good experience with flirts.”
He went still for a moment and stared into her, not at her, into her, and she could almost swear he could read her. “Your husband was a flirt,” he said, and gently lifted his hand to her cheek.
His touch made something inside her tumble free. She closed her eyes to fight the feeling.
“He was an idiot.”
