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Was Dex having to learn to dress himself back in Montana?
Ty chuckled at the thought of his brother being that helpless and wondered how he would handle scrubbing pots at home. Would he have to clean the big cast-iron pan Gran Cooper used to fry chicken?
God, he wanted to get to know his brother better.
His stomach growled at the thought of Gran’s chicken and homemade buttermilk biscuits, reminding him he was starved. Unsure where the dining room was located, he wandered to the right, trying to remember the tidbits Dex had mentioned. Dex’s formal study occupied the first room, while his grandfather had his own private office upstairs off his suite. Apparently the house was so large they had separate staircases leading to their own wings.
Curious about his brother’s office and hoping it would tell him more about his twin, he slowly walked inside, amazed at the fine leather and the rich woods of the furniture. Decorated in hunter green and maroon, it was a masculine room that Ty might have felt comfortable in, except for the state-of-the-art computer system occupying the entire back corner. Two paintings of English hunt scenes hung on one wall flanking a brick fireplace which had obviously never been used.
Desperate for any information on his brother and his grandparents, Ty searched the desk and wall-to-wall bookshelf for family photos, but found none.
Odd. At home, his walls held dozens of snapshots of himself and his family members, of him and his neighbor Leanne. He wondered briefly what Dex would think when he met the girl next door, the girl the Coopers hoped he’d marry. He’d have to phone Dex and tell him to be nice to Leanne. She was just a sweet, innocent kid. He didn’t want her to get hurt. She had enough problems keeping her own ranch going, especially with her ill mother.
Although both their families had been trying to push them together, he and Leanne had been friends forever, and he couldn’t see her as anything other than a little sister. He was certain she felt the same way. Besides, he sensed that Leanne wanted to leave the ranch life for bigger dreams, and his life was home on the Circle C. Any woman he got involved with would have to love it, too. She would have to fit into his world of horses and cows and land. The ranch had been in the family for five generations; he wanted to make certain the legacy continued.
Dr. Stovall’s vibrant grass-green eyes flashed into his mind, but he banished the image. Nope, that woman definitely belonged here in the city with fine museums and fancy hospitals and other doctors. Just as Paula had.
He definitely did not.
JESSICA COULD NOT stand to go home. The little house she’d rented near the hospital seemed too quiet and lonely since her divorce. The reminder of all she’d lost was painfully vivid every time she looked at the vacant room she’d painted as a nursery. Although she’d covered the bright yellow with a taupe color, when she looked at the walls, she still saw the room the way she’d imagined it during the first weeks of her pregnancy.
At the hospital she stared through the glass at the babies in the maternity unit, her heart aching. If she’d carried her baby to term, it would be a year old now. She would be planning a birthday party. She and Jack might still be together, a happy little family.
It was something she had never had, but something she’d always wanted.
Her hopes had been dashed when she’d lost their child, yet she’d tried desperately to recover. Then the doctor had delivered the final blow. She had severe endometriosis and although she wasn’t yet thirty, she’d had to have a hysterectomy. Traumatic as that had been, she’d tried to move on with her life, telling herself there were lots of needy kids in the world they could adopt.
At first Jack had agreed. He’d even been understanding and promised her it hadn’t mattered.
But it had.
And eventually Jack had admitted it.
He wanted his own child, a son who would have the Thompson genes and carry on his name. Oh, he hadn’t been ugly or mean; he’d simply been honest. Just the way he’d been when he’d told her to get rid of Nellie.
He didn’t understand her sentimental attachment to the car. Maybe she didn’t, either. But Nellie was the first thing Jessica had owned that had been all her own. And no one would take it away from her. She had worked damn hard to get that car and everything else in her life. She would get the money for these kids. Of that she was certain.
She wiped a tear from her eyes, smiled at the chubby little Rivers baby boy, and squared her shoulders. She would not feel sorry for herself. There were children in the world, right here in Bethesda General, who were ill, who had to endure much worse suffering than she did. Children whose lives depended on expensive medical treatment; children who couldn’t afford it—the very reason she was so disappointed in Dex Montgomery, the reason she would approach him again tomorrow at the board meeting when he wasn’t tired and she was prepared, her data and business plan in hand.
More determined than ever, she headed down the hall toward the pediatric unit. Late at night, she usually found some sick child lying in a hospital bed who felt frightened and alone. She would see who needed her tonight. Then maybe she could sleep when she finally went home. Maybe she wouldn’t have nightmares of losing her baby.
And maybe she’d dream of a way to convince Dex Montgomery to help her.
TY STARED at the massive mahogany table in the dining room in amazement. The entire Cooper clan could fit around it. Yet none of them would feel comfortable with the formal furnishings.
The dark-maroon wallpaper reminded him of heavy drapes he’d seen at a funeral home. A crystal water glass that probably cost more than his grandmother’s entire set of good dishes sat in front of him, and a short glass full of dark liquor—Scotch he presumed, since Dex had been drinking it at the airport—had been placed beside it. He reached for the glass and took a sip. A brush fire started in his throat, scalding his windpipe. Coughing, he grabbed the linen napkin, trying to hide his reaction when George slipped up behind him.
“Are you all right, sir?”
“Yea…yes. Thanks.”
“Your salad.” George handed him a plate of lettuce sprigs that looked like grass roots, followed by a saucer of something slimy.
Ty had no idea what the item was, but he didn’t intend to eat it.
“Your escargot with risotto,” George said, his shoulders thrown back with pride.
Escargot, Ty thought. Hadn’t Leanne told him once that escargot was snails?
He didn’t even eat cow tongue at home! Good grief, with the Montgomery wealth, they could certainly afford better grub. He’d starve to death if he had to eat like this. Irritated, he made a mental note to send Dex a freezer-full of prime hamburger and steak when he returned to Montana.
George stood stiffly by a long buffet, his body poised to jump to Ty’s every need. “Aren’t you going to eat, sir?”
“Um, I…was looking for the bisc…bread.” And the real food.
“Certainly.”
George returned with a basket of rolls, store-bought most likely, but at least Ty recognized them. Where was the butter?
He searched the table and saw a small china dish with pats of butter, so he slathered two pats on the bread. He inhaled it, only to catch George’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Is something wrong with the escargot, Mr. Dex?”
Yeah, it looks like it crawled out from under a rock.
“Sir?”
Ty could have sworn the man’s voice echoed in the huge empty room. How was he supposed to digest food, especially slimy creatures, with all this silence? Mealtime meant families talking and joking and arguing, rehashing the day on the ranch, kids throwing peas and clanging spoons, his dog Lady begging for scraps at their feet. After dinner Angelica would ride piggyback on his back, the twins would bounce on his knee. And sometimes he’d strum the guitar for a family sing-along on the porch under the stars.
Afterward, he and Pa Cooper would sit and talk—what did his Grandfather Montgomery do after dinner? Sip brandy in his study and read his stock reports?
He pushed the plate of snails away and stood. “Sorry, buddy, but I guess my stomach’s not up to speed tonight. I appreciate the supper, though.”
George made a tssking sound as if he assumed Ty had drunk too much, then took the plate away. “Very well, sir. Shall I draw you a bath?”
Ty nearly choked on the roll. There was no way in hell he’d let another man draw anything in the bathroom with him. “No, thanks.”
George nodded curtly, looking slightly offended as he rushed away with the plate. Ty grabbed two more rolls and stuffed them in the pockets of his suit so he wouldn’t wake up with his belly so empty it was hitting his backbone, then left to find his bedroom. Poor Dex; how did the man survive on these piddly rations?
Still, he tried to look on the bright side as he climbed the steps in search of his brother’s bedroom. Maybe tomorrow night he would be eating with the entire family and he’d learn more about them and his father. He’d be able to fool them better after a good night’s sleep.
Dr. Stovall’s face materialized in his mind—that is, if he slept at all instead of dreaming about that redheaded vixen all night.
Or if he didn’t give himself away first.
Chapter Four
Jessica woke slowly, a tingling sensation rippling up her arm all the way to her fingers. Slowly, she lifted the child snuggled next to her, slid her arm from beneath him, then flexed her fingers to rejuvenate the blood flow. Her watch read 5:30 a.m. They would be coming to prep Donny for surgery soon.
The three-year-old whimpered and opened his eyes. “Dr. Jesse?”
She gently pushed a lock of his blond hair away from his forehead. “What, sweetheart?”
“Stay till my mama gets here.”
Jessica smiled. “Don’t worry, I will.” Donny’s mother would come running in just as soon as she dropped her other two children at day care.
Then Jessica would have to run out in order to have time to shower and change before her eight o’clock appointments at her office. At eleven o’clock she had to break for her meeting with the hospital board. And Dex Montgomery.
“I scared,” Donny whispered, fat tears pooling in his eyes. “What they gonna do to me?”
Jessica squelched the tears flooding her throat, knowing she had to be strong for the little boy, then began to explain one more time the scary surgery he faced. He’d been born with a hole in his heart and the doctors had known they would need to operate eventually. They’d postponed it as long as possible. His prognosis looked good, but the surgery was costly, and his mother’s health insurance minimal.
Patients like Donny were the reason she lobbied for more money for the children’s wing.
“And when you wake up, your heart’s going to be fixed, just like brand new,” she finished softly.
She only wished Dex Montgomery’s heart defect could be repaired with surgery as well.
THE SOUND of a knock woke Ty from a deep sleep. He flexed and rolled to a sitting position in his brother’s big sleigh bed, surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw it was already 6:00 a.m. Geez, when had he slept so late?
Normally he crawled out of bed with the roosters.
He had to admit Dex’s bed was comfortable, but he missed his feather pillows.
George opened the door and peeked in, a tray laden with coffee and newspapers in hand. Ty’s stomach growled, wishing he had some bacon and eggs. He’d probably have that waiting downstairs. Maybe he’d get to eat with his grandparents.
He waited till George set the tray down before he wrapped the sheet around him and stood.
George stared at him with that pinched odd look again, as if he were wondering what planet Ty had stepped off. Dex probably walked around in front of the man in his underwear but Ty did not get naked with other men. He was not shy, but he had to draw the line somewhere with this ruse.
“Your workout clothes are on the vanity in the dressing room, along with today’s attire, sir.”
Ty picked up the cup of coffee and sniffed. It smelled odd, as if it had some kind of flavoring in it, like the almond extract Gran Cooper used in her pound cakes.
“I know you must have missed your special brand in Chicago,” George offered, his voice laced with pride.
Ty hated to offend him, but he could no more down the sweet-scented stuff than he could swallow those slimy snails the night before. “Actually,” he began, clawing through his hair. God, he missed his hat. “I think we need to get diverse,” he said, proud of his vocabulary. “I had some of that regular stuff in Chicago. Why don’t you buy some today?”
George’s brows furrowed. “Very well, sir.”
Ty lifted the lid of a tall silver container.
“Your protein shake,” George announced, implying it was his customary breakfast. “The cook added three raw eggs just as you like. Now, I’ll leave you to your morning routine.”
Ty grimaced at the thought of drinking raw eggs, wondering what his normal routine consisted of. At home, he’d eat a big breakfast, then work on the ranch till lunch with the sun beating down and the wide-open space calling his name.
His stomach growled again. “Oh, and pick up some good hamburgers and a steak or two while you’re at it, George.”
George’s mouth fell open, but he quickly snapped it shut. “You aren’t concerned about your cholesterol?”
Ty hedged. “I met with an investor who’s working with the beef industry. Thought I needed to sample some before I give him advice.” At least part of that was true.
George nodded. Apparently he understood business. “Hamburger and steak it is, Mr. Dex.”
“And get enough for my grandparents tonight.”
George halted by the door. “But sir, they won’t be dining here this evening. They have plans at the country club.”
Did they ever dine here? Ty wondered. “Well, when is the next family dinner?”
“I don’t believe they have one scheduled this week.”
They had to schedule family dinners? Now, he’d heard it all.
“Your grandfather said you could ride in with him today if you want. He’s leaving at eight-thirty sharp. Or you can drive yourself, if you want. The Mercedes is back from its grooming.”
They groomed their cars? Ty almost laughed out loud but accepted the offer. At least if he rode with his grandfather, he’d finally get to meet him.
The man who hadn’t wanted him or his mother.
Besides, he had no idea where his office was located or how to get there.
A FEW MINUTES LATER, Ty stood in the middle of a home gym that could have held thirty people. Everything in Dex’s room and closet had been in order, even the gym was neat and organized, the opposite of how Ty lived at home. Gran would like that about Dex; she was always fussing at Ty to clean up.
He raised a skeptical eye at the equipment. He’d considered skipping this part of Dex’s routine, but didn’t want to draw suspicion to himself. Besides, he’d be relaxing the rest of the day, pushing paper behind a desk in some cushy air-conditioned office, signing his name, well, Dex’s name, to a bunch of forms. He’d be so bored he’d be napping by noon. Might as well stay in shape while he was here.
He recognized the stationery bike from TV and the weights. An old buddy from high school had owned a set; he’d wanted to build muscles and impress the girls. He recognized the treadmill, too, from some guy demonstrating it on the tube.
He benched his weight for a few minutes, then climbed on the treadmill. Thank God George had unearthed some tennis shoes for him; they were a hell of a lot more comfortable than those Italian things Dex wore. He wondered if he could wear the sneakers with his suit.
Nah, they’d probably notice.
He fiddled with the knobs for a few minutes, trying to figure out the machine, when the surface beneath him began to move. Slow at first. Not bad. He walked with the motion, trying to adapt to the rhythm.
Piece of cake, although he’d much rather be outside riding his horse Dodger. Studying the different speeds, he punched a few buttons and the motion sped up. Faster, then faster, then faster. He pumped his legs and arms, increasing his pace until he was running to keep up, but the machine sped up, and he felt his feet sliding out from beneath him. Suddenly his shoestring got caught in the rung, his foot was being dragged tighter, closer to the edge, and he thought his ankle was going to snap. He ran faster and faster, jerking his foot, trying to release it, but the motion continued, his toe came close to being ground in the machine, and his chest was aching as he tried to breathe.
“Mr. Dex?”
George’s shout alarmed him and he stumbled and lost the rhythm, then fell face-first against the bars. His nose hit the bar, his eye the handle. George rushed over and flipped off the machine. Ty struggled to breathe. Sweat poured off his body, his nose was bleeding and he thought he might have broken his toe.
“What happened, sir? Are you all right? Shall I call a doctor?”
The genuine concern in George’s voice brought Ty out of his stupor. He could imagine his brother laughing his head off when he found out that Ty had almost killed himself on his treadmill. And he was supposed to be a doctor.
He wondered how Dex was faring on Dodger.
JESSICA HAD JUST finished her first round of patients when Dr. Epstein, head of the hospital board, phoned. Her nerves instantly jumped to alert.
