The Gentleman Rancher

“Thanks, Dr. Carrigan.”

“You’re welcome.” Jeremy paused. “Is everything else okay?”

Krista Sue looked at him, perplexed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

That was just it. He didn’t know.

“How are the stomachaches you were having?” Jeremy asked casually.

“They subsided as soon as I stopped drinking so much caffeine. I don’t even need the calcium carbonate tablets anymore.”

Jeremy consulted the chart. “And the dermatitis on your elbows?”

“Gone, too, thanks to the skin lotion I’ve started using every day.”

“And the migraines?”

“I only had the one. And it went away almost the moment I lay down in a dark room and closed my eyes. I think it was just…well, it’s not easy living at home again with my folks, while I wait for the wedding to take place, after being on my own at college for four years.”

“They pulling rank on you?” Jeremy teased.

Krista Sue rolled her eyes, her exasperation with her family evident. “Let’s just say I haven’t had to account for my whereabouts so much since I was sixteen! Anyway, thanks, doc, I won’t keep you. I imagine Brian is waiting for me, over at the paper. I don’t want to be late. He gets so grumpy when I keep him waiting.”

Jeremy gave her a hand down from the examining table. “You’d tell me if there were anything else going on, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, but, there’s not.” Krista Sue rushed past him, gaze averted She used her uninjured hand to open the door, rushed out into the hallway, then stopped suddenly. She clapped a hand to her chest and announced excitedly, “Oh my gosh, I think I’m going to faint!”

TAYLOR HAD SEEN this kind of reaction plenty of times in the last two months—to Zoe and Zak, and various other celebrities in L.A. Never herself.

“You’re Taylor O’Quinn!” The young woman dropped the ice pack she was holding and enthusiastically pumped Taylor’s hand. “I’m Krista Sue Wright. You wrote that book! I loved it! Although I have to tell you, I had to go to so much trouble to find a copy. The only place I could find it was online.”

Not surprising, Taylor thought, as Krista Sue finally let go of her hand. Meanwhile Jeremy bent to chivalrously retrieve her ice pack.

“I’m a new writer, so I got a very small print-run from Sassy Woman Press with my debut novel,” Taylor explained, aware Jeremy was still standing there, watching her, a peculiar expres¬ sion on his face. It was almost as if he were seeing her in a new light. She couldn’t help but feel good about that. For reasons that weren’t exactly clear, she had always wanted his respect.

Telling herself that it did not matter what Jeremy Carrigan—or anyone else—thought about her, Taylor turned her attention back to her enthusiastic fan.

Krista Sue looked starstruck. “The moment I read the review in Dallas Women magazine, I knew I had to get my hands on a copy. And I have to tell you—I was not disappointed. Your heroine was so funny and feisty and brave!”

“Thank you.”

“And Rafael! Tell me you modeled him after a real guy!”

Taylor avoided the heat of Jeremy’s gaze. “It’s a work of fiction.”

“But you must have known someone like him to be able to write such steamy…er…ahh.” Krista Sue blushed fiercely, turning back to Jeremy as if suddenly realizing her family doctor was standing there, too, taking this all in.

The door to the reception area opened. A handsome young man, who looked to be in his mid to late twenties, walked in. He made a beeline for Krista Sue. “Are you okay?” He started to hug her, then noticed the ice pack she had pressed to her wrapped left hand. “Your mom said you hurt yourself reorganizing the bathroom shelves?”

“It’s a long story.” Krista Sue waved off the concern. “It was just a stupid household accident. And it’s not important. What is important is…look who is here! It’s the author of that book I love—the one that’s being turned into a movie starring Zoe and Zak Townsend!”

He straightened. “You’re right—it is.” Pleasure lit his face. “I’m Brian Hilliard. I just purchased the Laramie newspaper. We’d love to do an in-depth interview with you.”

“Well, I—” Taylor knew she had a duty to promote her book, whenever possible. She owed her publisher that much. But she had come here to disappear, not step back into the limelight.

Brian Hilliard handed Taylor his business card with all his numbers.

“I’ll need to check my calendar.”

“Whatever works for you.” Brian smiled. “Just let me know.” He took Krista Sue by the elbow, intending to guide her to the checkout desk, where the receptionist was waiting to complete the necessary insurance paperwork.

Krista Sue turned back to Taylor. “I’m dying to know. The hero in your story was so sexy. Is he based on anyone you know? Or is he strictly a fantasy man?”

FROM THE WAY Taylor flushed, Jeremy noted, you’d think it was some big mystery. When it wasn’t. Everyone who knew Taylor personally, had long ago concluded the hero was a thinly disguised portrait of her ex-lover, Baywatch Bart.

Taylor ignored the taunting look Jeremy was giving her and met Krista Sue’s curious gaze. “I get asked that a lot,” Taylor admitted frankly.

“I’ll bet,” Krista Sue said. “It seemed so…real.”

“But that romance began and ended in my imagination,” Taylor concluded with a straightforward smile.

Which didn’t quite answer the question, Jeremy thought. Although the retort seemed to satisfy Krista Sue.

“Did you need an appointment?” Ginny, the receptionist, asked Taylor, after Krista Sue Wright and her fiancé left.

“No. I’m just here to talk to Jeremy a minute,” Taylor replied.

Would wonders never cease, Jeremy thought. Given the way Taylor had stomped off to bed the evening before, he’d figured it would be a long time before she ever gave him the time of day again. On the other hand, they were sharing space, albeit temporarily, at the Chamberlain ranch. Maybe she’d come to apologize to him for being so prickly. If so, that was something he wanted to hear.

“This way.” He led Taylor into his private office and gestured for her to take a seat.

“I won’t take but a minute of your time,” she started, looking less than thrilled to be there.

“Take all the time you want.” Jeremy took off his white lab coat, unbuttoned the first button on his dress shirt, and loosened his tie. Hoping to delay her at least long enough for them to call a truce, he sat, facing her. “I’m done for the day. The only thing I have ahead of me is a couple of hours’ work on my ranch house.”

She avoided his eyes, looking at everything in the office except him. “Paige asked me to be part of the celebrity auction the hospital is having to raise funds for the new wing. I know it won’t be held until next September, but she said you are in charge of gathering the items to be sold, and I should talk to you about what I might donate.”

Jeremy gripped the desk on either side of him and rocked forward slightly. He let his gaze drift over the elegant contours of her face. Aware all over again how much he had missed having her in his life, he said softly, “You could have talked to me about this back at the ranch.”

She directed her attention to him once again. Her defenses were up. Oddly enough, that gave them something in common. He didn’t know how he felt about her, either. Except that he wanted this tension between them to end…

“I was in town, doing errands,” Taylor explained, looking flustered.

“Is that the only reason you came by my office?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She straightened. “I wanted to stare at your diplomas with envy.”

Annoying her this way was starting to be fun. “No need to be sarcastic.”

The lift of her brows said it all. “Sorry. The nosiness of others brings it out in me.”

Jeremy chuckled. “Is this the way it’s going to be?”

“What?” With an indignant sniff, she shot up out of her chair.

He caught her hand, tugged her toward him. “Us sparring back and forth continuously until you leave?”

She pushed him away, one hand flat against his chest. “I don’t mind.”

He let her go, reluctantly. “I do.”

“Jeremy—”

It was all he could do not to take her in his arms. Aware how well that would go over, he contented himself with speaking what was on his mind. “I’d like us to be friends again.”

Surveying him with exaggerated politeness, she crossed her arms in front of her. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible, given the fact that you still—even after all this time—think I should have ignored my writing aspirations and gone into medicine.”

Was that still true? Twelve hours ago, it had been. But now…

Jeremy thought about the chapter he had read the night before, Krista Sue Wright’s reaction to Taylor’s work, and the fact Taylor’s very first novel was being turned into a movie. He stood slowly. “I was wrong, okay?” he said, surprised to find how good it felt to let go of the opinion that had torn them apart and kept them estranged for years. He had missed her. So much.

Figuring since he was responsible—at least in part—for driving her away, he should be part of the effort to bring her back, he continued, “It doesn’t matter how good a doctor you would have been. You are obviously doing what you are meant to do.”

Chapter Three

Zoe’s Secret Anguish

Is the marriage of the music industry’s hottest couple over? All of Hollywood seems to think so. Zoe Townsend hit the roof when she found Zak’s lipstick and perfume-stained shirt on their hotel suite floor. Seems the color—and the fragrance—weren’t hers.…

June 3 edition,

International Inquisitor magazine

Before Taylor could respond to Jeremy’s incredulous admission, his secretary buzzed in on his intercom. She wanted to discuss the next day’s appointments prior to leaving for the evening.

Jeremy excused himself and left the office for a few minutes. When he returned, he gave Taylor a quizzical look. “What’s wrong?”

Taylor’s mouth dropped open. She looked like she didn’t know whether to slug him or hug him. “Are you kidding me? How do you expect me to react to that bombshell you just dropped?”

Jeremy shook his head and continued in the same serious tone, “I’m the first to admit it when I am wrong. I was wrong.”

She snorted indignantly. “After seven years of being a stubborn donkey’s rear end, you change your mind,” she snapped her fingers, “just like that.”

Now, it was easy to come to that conclusion. Back then… how was he to know she was such a talented writer? Seven years ago, the only thing he had ever seen her put her energy toward was medical school. From the time she had entered college until the day she dropped out, Taylor had been exclusively focused on becoming a doctor. Just like him. He’d figured her abrupt decision to quit had been a combined reaction to stress, physical exhaustion, and fear. The thing was, they’d all felt that way during their grueling introduction to professional school, all wondered at some point at the start of their careers if they really had what it took to succeed in that field. For nearly all of them those feelings of indecision and insecurity had passed. He had assumed—for Taylor—that would be the case, too. Because he was her friend, he had tried to keep her from making a mistake that would destroy her long-held dream and haunt her the rest of her life.

Instead, from the looks of her—and the track record she had created as a writer—her actions had freed her.

Aware she was still waiting for the explanation behind his abrupt change of heart, he shrugged. “In those days, I hadn’t read anything you’d written.”

She edged closer. Her smile remained in place but he thought he saw it tighten a notch or two. “And now you have?”

Jeremy bit down on a curse. What was it about Taylor that always had him revealing too much? “I might have browsed a chapter of your book,” he allowed.

She went very still. “And?”

“I’m as curious as Krista Sue Wright about the hero of your romance novel.”

She frowned. “It’s chick lit.”

The contempt behind her reproach rankled, but he kept his irritation in check. “I stand corrected.” He paused. “But you’re dodging the question.”

She flashed him a condescending smile. “Which is…?”

“In Chapter One your heroine is really drawn to the hero in a physical sense,” he said.

“So?”

So everything about Taylor, from the silky fall of hair over her shoulders, to the clothes she wore, indicated she was a very sensual woman. He let his gaze rove the green cotton V-neck top that cut in slightly around the arms, leaving her shapely arms and shoulders bare. Her summer print skirt gloved her waist and hips in the same smooth, loving manner before ending just above her knees. Her legs were tan and bare, her delicate feet encased in sandals that looked as comfortable for walking as they were sexy. “So the hero in the book had a lot in common with that guy you were living with, back in Virginia,” he said.

She glided past, in a drift of orange blossom perfume. “How would you know? You never met my ex.”

Nor would he have wanted to. “Paige framed those pictures of you and Baywatch Bart. She’s got them in the living room at her house. I couldn’t help but notice them.”

She turned slowly. “You sound…jealous.”

Was he? “More like surprised,” he corrected, in the lazy tone he used to push people away when they got too close. He met her probing gaze. “I never thought you’d go for the suntanned, superbuff, got-to-live-free dudes who have nothing more to do than spend their trust funds.”

Taylor’s eyes took on a turbulent sheen. “Bart didn’t have any family money. He was disinherited when he dropped out of law school. A lot of his friends, including his fiancée, wanted nothing further to do with him, too.”

“Not unlike the hero in your novel,” Jeremy noted.

“And me.” She paused to examine the bronze statue one of his patients had brought him as a thank you. “My parents and two brothers pretty much stopped talking to me.”

His heart went out to her. Being at odds with family sucked. “How is it now?” he asked her gently, dropping into doctor mode without meaning to.

She relaxed slightly. “Better, since my dad’s heart attack last year. His illness really brought the family together. And it helped that I had a movie deal they could brag about to all their friends.”

“So why don’t you seem happier?” He went back to sitting on the edge of his desk. “Is it because you and Bart split up, and you’re still pining after him?”

She moved behind his desk and dropped into the leather chair. She swiveled back and forth, testing the chair’s ease. “Like the heroine in my novel, I don’t need a man to make me happy.”

“Does that mean you don’t want one ever again?”

“No.” She ran her finger along the edge of his desk. “It just means finding Mr. Right isn’t all that high on my priority list.”

When did her lips get so soft and so feminine? With effort, he returned his gaze to hers. “Then how come you stayed with Bart for so long?”

She challenged him with a knowing smirk. “Since you think my novel is really a roman à clef of my life with Bart, why don’t you just read the rest of it and find out?”

“Because,” he mocked her, “obviously, from the way you just said that, the book isn’t about Bart.”

She leaned forward, propping her elbow on his desk and resting her chin on her hand. “Bravo! You finally got it.”

“Although…” He leaned closer, too. “Aren’t all writers supposed to write what they know?”

She muttered a slew of words that indicated she hadn’t just dated a sailor, she had learned to talk like one, too. “For the last time,” she stood, slapping her palms on the surface of his desk, “The Guy Who Sailed Away and the Girl Who Found Herself is a work of fiction.” She leaned forward until they were nose to nose. “F-I-C-T-I-O-N!”

Damn, but she looked pretty with all that agitated color brightening up her face, he noted. With effort, he remained where he was and resisted the temptation to touch her. Casually, he asked, “Why are you getting so defensive?”

Still glowering, she refused to answer.

Okay, maybe he should have read more of the book than the first chapter.

It wasn’t that it hadn’t been good. Her writing style was riveting—maybe because it sounded so much like the way Taylor spoke and acted herself. He had stopped because he didn’t like the idea of Taylor with another guy, even in her imagination, which was just plain weird since he and Taylor had never dated. Yet here he was, reacting to her like he was romantically interested in her.

“Can we please just get on with this auction stuff?” Taylor said impatiently. “Paige said there is some paperwork I have to fill out if I want to participate.”

Jeremy reached past her and opened his desk drawer. He retrieved the file that was on top and took out a handout for participants.

Their fingers brushed as she took it from him.

Ignoring the jolt of attraction, he said, “Just fill these out. It’s pretty self-explanatory.”

She nodded. “What kind of things are you looking for people to donate?”

“Whatever you think you can spare that will bring the most money. For instance, Dani Chamberlain is auctioning two tickets to a special screening of the biggest blockbuster movie of the summer, that generally only film critics and reviewers like herself get to attend. Beau Chamberlain is auctioning ten one-day visits to the soundstage of the movie he has in production. That will happen when he finishes all his location work up in Montana and returns to Laramie, in late July. His donation should bring in a boatload of money. My aunt Jenna is auctioning off one of her couture bridal gowns.” Jeremy paused. “Do you have any memorabilia from your upcoming movie that you’d be willing to part with? Those items usually go for pretty big bucks.”

“I didn’t take anything from the set, when we finished filming.”

“Not even a chair with your name on it or a copy of the script?”

Her eyes clouded over. “I didn’t get a director’s chair.”

“What about an extra copy of the script?” he pressed.

“No.” Her shoulders took on a defeated slump. “It would have been such a mess anyway…”

“Why?”

Taylor exhaled. “There were a lot of rewrites.”

“That’s pretty normal, isn’t it?”

She chewed on her lower lip. “Not to the extent it happened on Sail Away.”

Judging from her expression, her time in Hollywood had not been pleasant. “Why so many?”

She stood and retrieved her purse. “Zak and Zoe were in competition for screen time, number of lines, likeability of their character, you name it. Neither was happy unless he or she felt they held the advantage.”

Was that what she was running from? Or was there something more? “That must have been hard to be around.”

Her expression became inscrutable once again. She looped her shoulder bag over her arm and waved off his concern. “It’s over now.”

Was it? Something about the way she was acting said it wasn’t. “So I guess there’s no chance you could get Zoe and Zak to participate in the auction?”

Her expression went from sober to droll in no time flat. “Honestly, Jeremy, I wouldn’t even ask.”

TAYLOR LEFT Jeremy’s office with the promise she would donate something to the auction, but no idea what that would be. She was nearly to her car when Jeremy jogged up behind her. “Got plans for this evening?”

“No.” Wondering what he was up to now, she looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”

He grinned. “Ever torn down a wall?”

She looked at him quizzically. “Also…no.”

Undeterred, he walked beside her as she made her way to the driver side. “Want to try it? You can paint my face on the drywall first. Might help you work off some of that aggression.”

“When and where?” she asked.

“My ranch—as soon as we can get there. You want to follow me?”

Curious to see the land he’d purchased, she nodded. “Sure.”

The drive out to Lake Laramie took twenty minutes. It was another ten to the entrance to Lago Vista Ranch. On her own, Taylor probably never would have found it. That’s because the sign across the top of the welcoming wooden archway had been knocked off some time ago and lay splintered and broken in the waist-high weeds. And that was just the beginning of the air of neglect.

The gravel lane leading onto the property was choked on both sides with mesquite, cedar and sage. Closer to the lake, there were deep thickets of blackberry bushes, glistening with ripening fruit, just begging to be picked. Midway onto the private property, the lane diverged in two directions. Jeremy took the one to the right. As they bumped along the path, one vehicle after another, the ground sloped downward. Finally, they topped a rise and a steep decline. The sprawling lake was in view. Under the deep blue Texas sky, the lake was a shimmering aqua blue.

At the lake end of the lane was a weathered dock. Taylor parked and got out to soak up the view.

Part of the lake was open to the public and set aside for camping, hiking and other recreational activities. The rest of the property fronting the water—like Lago Vista Ranch—was privately owned. From where they stood, she could see vacation homes dotting the shore. The occasional marina. Private boat slips. A popular restaurant overlooking the lake. Out on the water, there were sailboats and cruisers. Everything you would expect on a perfect summer evening.

“I can see why you bought the ranch,” Taylor murmured appreciatively. “The view alone…”

“I come here and sit some evenings to decompress.”

Taylor liked to do the same thing when she was writing. “There’s something so soothing about the water,” she murmured. In fact, the proximity to Virginia Beach was why she had settled in the Chesapeake area of Virginia.

His smile was slow and sexy. “Want to see the rest of the property?”

“Sure.”

They backed up their vehicles, and turned around carefully.

Taylor led the way back to the fork in the lane, and still in the lead, followed the path they had yet to take.

Once again, the property had a deep aura of neglect, or maybe it was just wilderness. There was barbed wire along the edges, along with the occasional weathered No Trespassing sign, but no effort had been made to cultivate the property into the well-manicured ranchland prevalent in Laramie County.

Even if someone came in and took down the underbrush, thinned out some of the trees, and mowed the high grass in the meadows, it wouldn’t stay that way, Taylor noted.

Jeremy must have one hundred acres here, she guessed, as they came upon another rise. And there, in the middle of a small clearing, was one of the oddest dwellings she had ever seen.

The central part of the one-story ranch house was rectangular in shape and built of white stone. It had double windows on either side of the massive oak door, and a wide front porch shaded by a steep tin roof. Toward the back, there were two narrow wings, jutting out at ninety-degree angles from the main part of the house. These were made of stucco. One was painted bright turquoise, the other bright coral.

“Go ahead.” Jeremy held the door as she got out of the driver side of her Jeep. He exhaled in resignation, appearing to brace himself. “There’s nothing you can say I haven’t heard before.”

Taylor walked around the weed choked front lawn. It looked like an acre had been cleared around the domicile. Beyond that was the same overgrown tangle of scrub, trees and weeds she had encountered on the rest of the property.

“It’s…interesting.”

Jeremy fell into step beside her. “It’s bizarre.”

She walked around toward the back. As she got closer, she noted the stucco had been applied over what looked like pale orange brick. Patches of it shone through, around the edges. “I’d love to hear the story behind this.” She indicated the home.