sweater dress and a pair of tall, black suede boots. The dress had only been worn once, two years ago, when she’d attended a charity dinner with her parents. Ileana rarely bothered to vary her wardrobe from slacks or professional skirts and mundane blouses. No one bothered to look at her sideways. And if they did, it was because she was a doctor and they wanted to hear what she had to say about a patient or ailment.
But this morning, she’d grabbed the dress from her closet and convinced herself that her mother would be pleased if she dressed for their dinner guest tonight.
Shutting the door on her private workspace, Ileana hurried down the hallway toward the nearest hospital exit. She was almost past the nurse’s station, when Renae called out to her.
“Dr. Sanders, is that you?”
Stifling a sigh, Ileana paused and looked back at the nurse. “Yes, it’s me, Renae. I’m on my way home. Was there something you needed before I leave?”
The tall nurse with wheat-blond hair and bright blue eyes stepped out from behind the high counter. “No. Everything is quiet.” Her gaze ran pointedly over Ileana’s dress and boots. “My, oh my, you look—so different! I’ve never seen you dressed this way! And you’re wearing lipstick!”
A faint blush warmed Ileana’s cheeks, making them match the shell-pink color she’d swiped over her lips. She felt incredibly self-conscious. Which was absurd. She was thirty-eight years old. She could wear what she wanted, whenever she wanted, she tried to reassure herself. “I break out of my rut once in a while, Renae.”
The other woman smiled. “Well, you should do it more often, Doc.” Renae’s expression turned impish. “You wouldn’t want to tell me what the occasion is, would you?”
Renae would be the first one to admit that she did her share of contributing to the hospital gossip grapevine. But Ileana certainly didn’t have anything to hide. Her personal life was as flat and uninteresting as a cold pancake.
“Mother is having a dinner guest, and she doesn’t like for me to show up in wrinkled work clothes.”
Renae started to reply but paused as the sound of approaching footsteps caught both women’s attention. Ileana looked around to see Mac McCleod striding directly toward them. He was wearing a jean jacket with a heavy sheepskin collar, and his cowboy hat was pulled low over his forehead; but the moment he neared the two women, he tilted it back and smiled broadly.
“Good evenin’, ladies.”
Renae gave him one of her sexy smiles, and Ileana thought how perfect a companion the young nurse would be for the Texas cowboy. She was full of life and nothing—not even a man like Mac McCleod—intimidated her. Whereas Ileana felt like Little Red Riding Hood standing next to the big scary wolf.
“Good evening, Mr. McCleod,” Renae greeted him. “Fancy seeing you here again.”
He glanced briefly at the nurse before settling his eyes on Ileana. The direct gaze heated her body more than a huge shot of whiskey ever could.
“Yes,” he said to the nurse. “Dr. Sanders was kind enough to invite me to dinner.”
The sound of his voice was low and sultry. Or at least it seemed that way to Ileana. But she could be overreacting. Either way, she was ready to leave the hospital and break the odd tension that had suddenly come over her.
“Oh, how nice,” Renae responded while casting a shocked glance at Ileana.
“We’d better be going, Mac. Or we’ll be late.” Ileana quickly grabbed him by the arm and urged him toward the exit. To Renae, she tossed over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”
As the two of them headed down the wide corridor, he asked, “What’s the rush? Afraid I’m going to pester you to see Frankie before we leave the hospital?”
“No,” Ileana replied. “It wouldn’t make any difference how much you pestered me. The answer would still be no. At least for today.”
“So she’s still too ill for visitors?”
Now that they were away from Renae and nearing a revolving door that would take them outside the hospital, Ileana dropped her hand from his arm and purposely put space between their bodies. Even so, she was intensely aware of his spicy scent, the sensual swagger of his posture and the pleasant drawl to his voice.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Are you sure she’s getting everything she needs at this hospital? Maybe if you sent her to Albuquerque or Santa Fe? I mean, I’m not doubting your ability as a doctor, but she might need to be in a more high-tech facility.”
Ileana paused to pull on the black coat that was draped over her arm, but before she could swing it around her shoulders, he took the garment from her and graciously helped her into it. Ileana couldn’t remember the last time a man, other than a relative, had done such a personal thing for her. It made her feel awkward, yet sweetly cared for at the same time.
She’d never been really hurt or abused by any man, but her natural shyness and private nature had kept them at bay for years. Now it was a habit she couldn’t seem to break out of. Everyone thought of her as a plain old maid, and she couldn’t seem to change her own opinion of herself. But seeing her in this stranger’s eyes was giving her new hope.
Looking up at him, she smiled. “I’m sure you mean well, Mac. But there is no high-tech machine that can cure Frankie right now. And even if there were, our hospital here has up-to-date equipment. No, the only thing that can help Frankie is medication and total rest.”
He let out a long breath, and she could clearly see that he was frustrated, but his demeanor changed as quickly as the snap of two fingers. Once again he was smiling down at her. For a moment Ileana forgot that they were standing to one side of the door and that people were coming and going behind them. She was momentarily mesmerized by the subtle glint in his brown eyes, the faint dimples bracketing his lips, the dent in his chin.
“Well,” he said softly, “that just means I’ll have to stay here in Ruidoso longer and get to know you a bit better.”
Dropping her head, she cleared her throat as she tried to gather herself together. “Um…we’d better go. It’s a fairly long drive to the Bar M,” she told him.
Out in the parking lot, a north wind was whipping across the asphalt, rattling the bare limbs of the aspens and shaking the branches of the blue spruce trees. Ileana huddled, shivering inside her coat, as she gave him general directions to the ranch, then climbed into her truck and waited for him to do the same.
Soon a dark, fairly new-looking pickup truck pulled directly behind hers. She steered her own vehicle onto the street while carefully watching in the rearview mirror to make sure he was following. After a maze of turns and several traffic lights, they hit the main highway that would take them east to the Hondo Valley.
The Bar M was nearly thirty miles away and in the daylight, a beautiful drive through the mountains. But night had fallen more than an hour ago. As she drove, Ileana’s gaze switched from the white line on the highway to the headlights following a respectable distance behind her, while her thoughts raced faster than the speedometer on the dash panel.
What was the man really trying to do? There was no reason for him to flirt with her. In fact, the whole idea seemed ridiculous. But he had flirted, she mentally
