скачать книгу бесплатно
She took another paper from her purse, opened it and laid it on his desk. “First of all, I need to tell you that Lily knows nothing about this and that’s the way Ryan wants it. That’s also why he took me aside at Steven and Amy’s wedding to talk to me privately. He’d begun having severe headaches and he didn’t want to consult with a doctor in Red Rock or San Antonio because he’d tried to brush off the pain at first. He also didn’t want any more rumors to get started. There have been enough about him concerning…everything.”
“He’s not still a suspect in the Christopher Jamison murder, is he? The police certainly should have ruled him out by now.”
It sounded as if Peter had no doubts about Ryan’s innocence. “Apparently they haven’t ruled him out. That stress alone could cause headaches. But he told me he’d never had this type of headache before, so I took him seriously.”
“Are you staying at the Double Crown?”
“No, I’m staying with Miles at the Flying Aces while Clyde and my new sister-in-law Jessica are on their honeymoon. Miles insisted I stay there so we can visit. I can’t show too much concern about Ryan because Lily and everyone else will become suspicious.”
Peter took the evaluation form she handed him and looked it over. His expression became more somber as he did. “He’s having some tingling in his arm?”
“Yes.”
“You said he didn’t want to see anyone local. Why come to me when my speciality is pediatric neurosurgery?”
“He trusts you, Dr. Clark. You’ll keep all this confidential, including my involvement. I’ve recommended he have testing done but I’m not licensed to practice in Texas and I don’t have hospital privileges here. You, however, do. Ryan thought if the two of us worked together, we could get to the bottom of whatever is wrong. It would safeguard his privacy.”
After a second look at the report she’d written, Peter’s gaze met hers. “I want to talk to Ryan myself.”
“He’d rather not come here, and he doesn’t want Lily or anyone else in the family to know.”
When Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully, Violet couldn’t help but notice what a definitive jawline he had, what large strong-looking hands. “All right. I’m glad Ryan believes he can trust me. We can meet at my house. I can examine him and then we can decide what to do next.”
“When are you available?” Violet asked.
“Tonight.”
Obviously Peter Clark didn’t like Ryan’s symptoms any more than she did. “I’ll call Ryan and see if he’s free.”
She took her little blue cell phone from her purse. A few minutes later, after a brief conversation with Ryan in which they all agreed on a time, she closed the phone and dropped it back into her handbag.
“Ryan said to make sure to tell you he’ll pay you double your usual fee because he knows this is an inconvenience.”
“Ryan’s a friend. There won’t be a fee, not for tonight.”
“He won’t like that.”
Peter smiled. “Maybe not, but it will be my only condition for examining him.”
“I can see why he respects you,” she said softly.
Silent communication passed between them and because of their concern for Ryan, a bond was formed. However, that bond seemed to be more personal than professional.
Standing, she met his gaze. “It was good to meet you, Dr. Clark. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”
“It’s Peter,” he corrected her.
“Peter,” she murmured.
Holding her gaze, he seemed to be waiting for something. Finally, with a wry smile turning up the corners of his lips, he asked, “And should I call you Dr. Fortune or Violet?”
She felt her cheeks turn hot and couldn’t remember the last time she’d blushed. “Violet’s fine,” she decided, feeling much too warm in the small office.
When he rose to his feet and came around the desk, they were standing very close. “Ryan is lucky to have you in the family.”
“He and my dad have always been close. I grew up respecting him, and he’s like a favorite uncle. I don’t want anything to happen to him.”
“This could be serious.”
She already knew that, the possibilities having kept her awake the past few nights. Still, she realized Peter felt he had to put the probability into words, so that she could take it as a warning, so that she wouldn’t deny what might be the cause of Ryan’s problems. “I know this could be serious. But on the other hand, stress and tension could cause symptoms, too.”
“That’s possible. We’ll proceed one step at a time.”
Feeling as if she could stand there all day just looking at Peter, absorbing his strength, his concern and his compassion, she gave herself a mental shake. She didn’t need any of those things from him. Ryan did.
With a deep breath, she stepped away from Peter’s powerful aura and walked toward the door. “You don’t have to see me out. Ryan says he knows where your house is located, so I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tonight,” Peter agreed, his deep voice making the word sound like a commitment.
As Violet escaped into the hall and closed the office door behind her, she knew Dr. Peter Clark’s commitment was to Ryan Fortune.
“That’s the one—number seven-seventeen.” Ryan directed Violet to Peter Clark’s house on the western outskirts of Red Rock.
Developments were springing up randomly in the small community, and it was getting larger. When Violet was growing up and her family visited Ryan and his family on the Double Crown, she loved their little excursions into Red Rock with its rural fields, its round parklike town square with the white gazebo, its ice-cream parlor and family restaurants. Not that Violet had ever wanted to live here. She loved New York City and that was her home.
“I can’t believe all these houses just sprang up over the last year,” Ryan grumbled. “Pretty soon Red Rock’s going to stretch out and meet San Antonio.”
Red Rock was a twenty-mile drive from San Antonio. “I don’t think you have to worry about that quite yet.”
“The garage door’s going up. Peter must have been watching for us.”
Peter Clark’s house was a country-ranch style and angled across the lot in an upside-down open V.
“Looks like a lot of house for a bachelor,” Ryan commented as she pulled into the garage next to an SUV.
A light was on in the garage and Peter stood in the doorway leading into the house. Dressed in khaki slacks and a black polo shirt, he looked taller and more broad-shouldered than he had this afternoon. The sight of him seemed to make Violet’s pulse race faster, but she told herself she was just anxious about Ryan. Deep down, though, she was eager to know more about Peter—too eager. For all she knew, he might be involved with someone. For all she knew, he might have moved into this new house in order to share his life with his significant other.
Sharing her life with someone had never come close to competing with her career.
Her career.
The Washburn case had shaken her confidence more than anything else ever had. She’d taken a cruise to try to gain perspective on what had happened. That hadn’t helped. So since she was coming to Red Rock for her brother’s wedding, she’d cleared her schedule for a few more weeks to try to get her head on straight again.
She didn’t need a sexy neurosurgeon making it spin. In a few weeks she’d be returning to her practice in New York. There was no doubt about that, and no room in her life for an emotional entanglement that would only hurt her when it had to end.
“Are you ready?” she asked Ryan, noticing he hadn’t unfastened his seat belt.
“No, I’m not ready. But let’s get this over with anyway.”
After they exited the car, Peter’s smile was congenial as he held his hand out to Ryan. “It’s good to see you again.”
Dressed in boots, jeans and a green plaid, snap-button shirt, Ryan was solidly built from years of ranch work. He was still darkly handsome at age fifty-nine, deeply tanned from riding and working under the Texas sun. Violet admired his good heart as much as his accomplishments on the Double Crown and at Fortune TX, Ltd., where he acted as an advisor and sat on the board of directors.
The doorway from the garage led past the mudroom into a large living room. Violet noticed an expansive deck that seemed to go on forever outside of the living room’s sliding glass doors.
“Interesting place you’ve got here,” she remarked as they walked into the kitchen and stood peering into the great room with its cathedral ceiling and immense fan.
Sliding glass doors from that room also led out onto the deck, and Violet glimpsed a hot tub. The fireplace in the great room was fashioned of beautiful gray stone. A mission-style sofa and chair were grouped around it, their cushions woven with fabric striped in gray, tan and black. The living room had been equipped with an entertainment center, large TV and contemporary glass tables. In that room, the decor was an extension of the outdoors with earth tones and rustic textures. It still looked a bit empty.
“I really like the design of this house,” she said with admiration.
“It’s different,” Peter agreed. “And it suits me. I’m not here often enough to enjoy it, though. If I don’t soon put something on the walls, my sisters are threatening to do it for me.”
“You come from a large family?” Violet asked.
“Two biological sisters. My parents took in a lot of foster kids, and they feel like brothers and sisters, too.”
Peter’s gaze passed over Violet’s light blue, short-sleeved blouse and indigo jeans. She felt herself get very warm. She’d been tempted to wear something less casual but had told herself what she wore was simply not important.
“Would you like something to drink?” Peter asked.
Ryan shook his head. “I don’t want to tie you up too long.”
“All right. Violet, if you’re interested, help yourself to anything in the refrigerator.” He motioned to a hall that led to the other side of the house. “My study’s down this way. Let’s go in there.”
Then the men disappeared and Violet was left standing in the center of Peter Clark’s house all alone.
She couldn’t help snooping a bit. Well, not snooping, but absorbing Peter’s surroundings.
Her apartment was cluttered with mementoes from her childhood—presents her brothers and her parents had given her and selected items that simply carried memories. Now as she wandered toward a pine cabinet with glass doors, she peeked through the glass. There was a picture in a silver frame of a woman dressed in bell-bottomed slacks standing with a man who looked very much like Peter. Beside it stood three leather-bound books that were classics, a photograph of the same woman, older now, standing with five children. On another shelf, Violet spotted a duck decoy carved from wood and intricately painted, a Kachina and a wicker basket filled with seashells. There were several arrowheads and a picture of two young women. Peter’s sisters?
Glancing toward the study, she realized she was taking inventory to keep her mind off what was happening in there. Would Peter’s findings be different from hers?
A half hour later, Violet was staring out into Peter’s backyard unseeingly when Ryan and the neurosurgeon emerged from the study.
Ryan raked his hand through his hair. “He made me do all the same things you did and asked a heck of a lot of questions.”
“I think Ryan needs an MRI,” Peter advised calmly. “I’ll call a colleague of mine in Houston, where I did my residency, and see if he can set it up there.”
“But you’ll be my doctor?” Ryan asked hopefully.
“My speciality is children, Ryan, but let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. We’ll do the test and then go from there.”
“You’re right. That sounds reasonable.” He looked from Peter to Violet. “I know you two probably want to talk about me. I’ll just go on outside and take a look around.”
As if knowing neither of them would argue with him, he unlatched the sliding glass doors and stepped outside.
After Ryan had closed the door and walked farther out onto the deck, Violet asked, “Do you think his condition is serious?”
“At this stage, there’s no way of knowing. The MRI will tell us what comes next.”
“Is there any reason why Ryan shouldn’t drive? I convinced him to let me bring him tonight, but he’s not the type of man who likes to be chauffeured.”
“I asked him about blackouts and he said he hasn’t had any. He insists he hasn’t been dizzy, either. So until something other than the headaches develop, I can’t tell him he shouldn’t drive.”
When Violet thought about the possibilities of what could be wrong with Ryan, she felt her chin quiver. Suddenly the idea of losing Ryan was much too real.
Coming closer, Peter studied her for a long moment. “What?”
Feeling embarrassed, she shook her head. “He’s…he’s more than a patient to me.”
A tear escaped the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek, and she quickly swiped at it.
Reaching out, Peter clasped her shoulder. “Don’t borrow trouble.”
“I can’t help but worry. It hasn’t been that long since he and Lily found each other again. They’re so happy.”
“Yes, they are. But whether this is stress or something more serious, I know she’ll support him just as you will…just as I will.”
Peter’s hand on her shoulder was comforting. It was as if she could feel his strength seeping into her. “You’d never know I deal with life and death and grim diagnoses all the time.”
“Grim diagnoses?”
“There just seems to have been a lot of them lately. Before I left New York there were two young women with MS, and a pregnant mother who died—”
She stopped abruptly, not knowing what she was doing. She didn’t unload. That simply wasn’t her nature. She handled what came her way without leaning on anyone.
“What else?” he asked, his green eyes kind.
“Nothing, really. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. All I’m doing is riding, catching up on medical journals and visiting with my brother Miles. You’d think I’d be as happy as the proverbial lark.”
“Anyone can get burned out.”
“Do you?” she asked.
With a wry smile and a half shrug, he answered, “Not yet.” Then he became more serious. “But it can sneak up on you.”
Gazing into Peter’s eyes, Violet couldn’t seem to look away. His hand was still resting comfortingly on her shoulder, but the comfort was becoming an awareness that easily could turn into something else.
Self-consciously, she motioned toward the deck. “I’d better tell Ryan I’m ready to go or he’ll think we’re keeping something from him.”
Dropping his hand to his side, Peter agreed. “Yes, he probably will. I’ll call you tomorrow as soon as I talk to my friend in Houston.”
“I’m staying in the pool house at the Flying Aces. It doesn’t have a phone, but I can give you my cell phone number.”
She took a card from her purse and handed it to him. “I’ve written the number on there.”
When he took the card from her, his fingers grazed hers.
