lounged next to his desk, engulfing him in her sexy flowers and citrus perfume. “Gary Hecht. A statistician. I’m meeting him for a half an hour at the driving range this evening.”
With effort, Tyler shifted his gaze from the subtle curve of her hip, to her face. He tossed his pen down on his desk, rocked back in his chair. “I didn’t know you golfed.”
Susie made a face. “I don’t. But he does.” Humor glittered in her amber eyes as she acknowledged with a toss of her head, “I figured that would keep his attention focused on something other than me and make the thirty minutes go a heck of a lot quicker.”
“Glad to hear you’re really getting into the spirit of things,” Tyler drawled.
Susie hopped up on the edge of his desk. She put her hands on either side of her, kept one foot on the floor, and swung the other leg back and forth.
“Which is where you come in,” Susie said.
Tyler’s hand dropped to her fingertips, curled over the edge of his desk. As always he marveled at the feminine sight. Given how much time she spent rooting around in the soil, he would have figured her hands would show the wear and tear. True, her nails were neat and short. And she almost never wore any jewelry on her hands. But her palms were every bit as silky smooth as the rest of her.
Struggling to keep his attention focused on the conversation, Tyler returned, “Oh, yeah?”
Susie nodded agreeably. Devilry colored her low tone. “I want you to accidentally on purpose show up there about the time I am supposed to leave to facilitate my exit, if things get sticky. They may not, but better safe than sorry.”
The idea of rescuing her yet again was not unappealing, although Tyler pretended it was.
Watching how the autumn sunlight streaming through the open blinds brought out the honey-gold in her hair, he regarded her with mock exasperation. “And what do I get for this?”
Susie tapped the pad of her index finger against her chin in a parody of thoughtfulness. “Uh…fresh flowers for the reception desk?”
Tyler rocked back in his chair and clasped his fingers together behind his head. As far as interruptions went, this was the most pleasurable one he’d had in quite a while.
He feigned a disagreeable attitude. “You know I could care less about anything floral.”
Unless it’s a fragrance, adorning your skin.
Tyler didn’t know why, her particular pheromones, maybe, but Susie made perfume—any perfume—smell incredible.
She squinting at him playfully and finally offered up a new bargain. “How about…hmm…I iron some of your shirts?”
His preference for unstarched cotton was a running joke between them. He fingered the pine-green oxford he was wearing. “I like ’em rumpled.”
Susie swung her leg back and forth. “I’ll plant a tree in front of your ranch house.”
“It would just get in the way of my tractor when I mow.”
Trevor wanted his off time and the chores he had to do around his Healing Meadow ranch to be as easy as possible.
“Okay, then—” she batted her eyelashes at him flirtatiously “—I’ll pay for dinner.”
“Now you’re talking.”
She held up a cautioning finger. “But it can’t be here in town. It wouldn’t be sensitive to ditch one date and then publicly go right out and eat a meal with another.”
Tyler tried and failed to keep an amused grin off his face. “But it would be okay to do it behind Bachelor Number Two’s back?”
Susie huffed and hopped off his desk. She strode back and forth restlessly. “Whose side are you on?”
As if she even had to ask. “Yours. Definitely.”
“All right.” Susie paused and circled her waist with her hands. She tilted her head at him thoughtfully. “So where do you want to eat?”
Tyler shrugged. “You know the area every bit as well as I do. Surprise me.”
GARY HECHT TURNED OUT to be shorter than Susie by a good inch and a half, and movie-star handsome, Susie noted. He also had a great golf swing.
“I gather my parents told you I had leukemia when I was a teenager,” Susie picked a spot near the end of the Armadillo Acres driving range, and set her bucket of balls down on the grass.
“Yes, they did and I immediately ran the statistics.” Gary set his bucket down to the left of hers and plucked a custom club from his golf bag.
He removed the cover and ran his hand lovingly over the stem of the stick, and onto the wood head of the club, his fingers tracing the loft, as if to ensure it were still in perfect shape.
He regarded Susie with scientific enthusiasm. “Do you know that you have a greater chance of getting in a fatal car accident or contracting a deadly form of pneumonia than you do of getting cancer again?”
“No. I can’t say I did,” Susie said drily.
Her attempt at humor was lost on the insurance company actuary. This could be a long thirty minutes.
She loathed being stuck with a humorless companion. Being on a date with one was even worse.
Gary caught her dissatisfied look. “Illness doesn’t scare me, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Satisfied all was in order with his driver, Gary placed a golf ball on the tee and paused to line up his first shot. “And if most people looked at the numbers, I don’t think it would scare them nearly as much, either. Modern medicine has done great things when it comes to improving life expectancy. Thanks to all the research being done, and new protocols developed, the odds of living a long, healthy life are getting better all the time.”
Susie supposed she was living proof of that.
Now, if someone could just convince Emmaline Clark the odds were on her side, too.
“Do you talk to all your dates about this?” Susie lined up her shot, too. She swung as hard as she could. The ball went a measly twenty-five yards.
“Oh. Definitely,” Gary said. A look of pure bliss crossed his features. “I love numbers.”
Susie nodded. “I can see that you do.” She watched Gary make a perfect line drive.
It looked as if he loved golf, too.
Gary nodded in greeting as another customer made his way past them to take up a position on the other side of Susie.
Susie started to nod, too, when she caught a whiff of man and cologne that was all too familiar. She took a good look at the cowboy ambling by, in a striped golf shirt she could swear she had never seen before, his usual denim jeans, and what looked like a pair of bowling shoes.
He kept his eyes on the green.
Gary frowned
