looked slight and feminine, not at all the forceful, take-charge doctor who’d bowled him over earlier in the evening. Quite a transformation.
The reflected glow of the streetlights illuminated the interior of the truck. Carefully Travis used a callused fingertip to pull the lock of hair back from Mercy’s face. He could be forgiven if he took this minor advantage to study the heart-shaped countenance, the high cheekbones and delicate nose. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Yes, sir, he’d been thrown caboose over teakettle plenty of times in his career, but never as badly as the spill he’d taken at his first sight of Mercy Holt in fifteen years.
And he ached. Not just from the pounding Sidewinder had given him, either. No, it was regret. God help him, he’d give anything if things could have turned out differently.
She gave a little murmured sigh, and he immediately felt lower than a snake’s belly. She’d worked a full shift, plus some, and despite his shearling jacket and her wool cape, the Texas night was getting colder by the minute. As much as he was enjoying the sensation of holding a beautiful woman, he couldn’t take advantage of the situation any longer.
“Mercy? Honey, wake up. We’re home.”
Her lashes fluttered, revealing eyes as indigo as a field of Texas bluebonnets. Languid, sleep flushed, she smiled up at him in the dim light, then ran a fingertip over his mustache.
“I can’t get used to this.”
Her fleeting touch electrified him, and he caught her hand to stop the unexpected pleasure/pain. His voice was rough. “Kinda my trademark now, blue eyes. I’d feel naked without it.”
Something akin to horror widened her eyes, and she jerked upright, blushing in embarrassment. “Oh. What time is it?”
“Late.”
She placed a hand against her burning cheek. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“No problem.” He was already out of the truck, walking around to open her door. “Must be past your bedtime. Come on, I’ll walk you in.”
“That’s not necessary.” She dug in her bag for her key. “I’m perfectly all right. But thank you for the meal and everything—”
He arched an eyebrow at her, cutting her off. “No use arguing. You know my mama raised me the old-fashioned way.”
He could see her hesitation, but he took her elbow and lifted the key from her fingers. Within minutes he was standing inside the doorway of her town house as she turned on lamps. Somehow it wasn’t what he’d expected.
The apartment was spacious, but austere. Pale vertical blinds graced the windows, and even paler modular furniture sat on an oatmeal carpet. Stacks of unopened mail and unread magazines littered the tabletops. A laundry basket of scrubs and lab coats perched on an ottoman. A stethoscope dangled over a lamp shade.
The breakfast bar that separated the living area from the kitchen sported a litter of used bowls and teacups and a cellophane-wrapped bunch of supermarket flowers that had never been placed in water and now lay limp and brown and forlorn on the alabaster counter. There were books everywhere, but no personal pictures. Only a wall display of award plaques for distinguished service for several inner city clinics and a home for troubled youth indicated that the person who lived here had an outside life at all.
“Don’t look. The place is a mess,” she said, shoving the laundry basket behind the sofa. “I don’t have much time for housekeeping or anything else but work.”
“Don’t apologize. Considering I spend a lot of my time perusing the inside of motel rooms, it looks okay to me. And I know what you mean. I’m on the road so much, there’s no time to smell the roses, much less for someone special.”
“Don’t tell me you lack for company.” Her voice was skeptical. “I’ve had a sample of that potent cowboy charm of yours tonight, and I won’t believe you.”
He smiled, pleased at her admission. “Glad you enjoyed yourself, darlin’.”
She tugged off her cape, looking willow slender and pale and suddenly uncertain. “Ah, I’d offer you coffee, but it’s so late....”
He twirled his hat between his hands. “I should be going.”
“It’s been wonderful seeing you again. Where are you heading from here?”
“Oklahoma City next week. Got to see a man about a bull.”
She grimaced. “Travis—”
“No, really,” he protested with a deep laugh. “Sam Preston and I are running rodeo stock together now. King & Preston Stock Company.”
“Sam? Kenny’s brother?”
Her astonishment was plain, and he didn’t blame her. He and Sam were unlikely partners.
“Heck of a thing, huh? We’re working hard at it I’m the front man, and Sam runs the operation in Flat Fork. Could pan out pretty well, I guess. You know Sam married Roni Daniels a few months back?”
“No, I hadn’t heard. That’s nice.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, then Travis went to her, his hand extended. “I’ll say good night.”
She moistened her lips, then slipped her slender hand into his outsize paw. She made a vague gesture at his bandage with her free hand. “You’ll need those stitches out in a few days.”
“I know the drill.”
“And about those tests. If you’ll call me, I’ll be glad to set them up.”
“Uh, Mercy?” Eyes locked on their joined hands, he cleared his throat. “I have a confession.”
“You do?”
“I don’t need those tests.”
She jerked, but he didn’t release her hand. “Travis, you promised.”
“I’ve already had them.”
“What?”
“Every one in the book, and a few they made up just for me,” he admitted.
This time she did manage to free her hand, and her voice was cold. “And the results of these tests?”
He shrugged. “I’ve got a bit of problem. Chronic, you know, but nothing I’m not handling.”
“They told you not to ride again,” she stated flatly.
“They told me the risks, but, hell, it’s nothing worse than a thousand other bull riders have to deal with, and I’m a whole lot better than some.”
“So you ride and risk—what? Permanent pain? Complete disability? Or worse?” Her words were clipped, coldly furious. “Why the hell would you do something so completely asinine?”
“It’s what a world champion does, darlin’.” He lifted a placating hand. “Give me a little credit. I know what
