style="font-size:15px;"> “Sorry,” Eric apologized, meaning it. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Working too hard, probably.”
Because he had been and he hoped that was the reason for his unexplained preoccupation with his pretty houseguest, he nodded. “Probably.”
“You been home lately?” Ryan asked quietly, meaning the Lucky C ranch.
“No.” Eric refused to feel guilty. Both brothers had escaped the family ranch as quickly as they could—Eric because he’d never fit in, Ryan because of the never-ending drama. “How about you?”
Ryan sighed. “I’ve had to run out there a few times. I’m still investigating the attack on Mother. Since she’s unconscious, she can’t tell me anything. And there have been a couple other instances of vandalism, mostly minor.”
Eric grimaced. While he loved his mother, Abra Colton had always been one of those women who always seemed to be on edge. Everything made her nervous, including her children. Thus a series of nannies had raised Eric and his siblings. None of the Coltons had felt particularly close to their mother growing up, though not from lack of trying. Greta in particular. Eric had hated watching how often Abra’s careless indifference hurt his sister.
But these past several years, Abra had begun to mend the fences. She and Greta had become close. She’d even reached out to Eric, hoping to try to forge a tentative relationship. Unfortunately, this had been right before she’d been attacked, and Eric and she hadn’t made up.
“How’s Dad holding up?”
Ryan shrugged, his expression grim. “Oh, you know Big J. He’s devoted to making sure Mother is comfortable, as long as the hired nurses take care of her.”
Lately their father had been showing signs of early dementia, though he refused to see his doctor and get tested. Big J had always been larger than life, with his booming voice and his raucous laugh. Though he never spoke about it, all his sons understood he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Some days he seems better than others,” Ryan continued. “Jack’s keeping an eye on him.”
Their oldest brother, Jack, managed the Lucky C. Nothing mattered more to him than family, especially his son, Seth. The ranch came in a close second, though.
“You need to try and pop out there when you can,” Ryan said. “Even though Abra won’t know you’re there, I know Jack and Seth will be thrilled to see you.”
“I will,” Eric promised, meaning it. He adored his five-year-old nephew, Seth, and hadn’t seen him in too long. He couldn’t remember the last time Jack had brought his son into Tulsa.
Once they’d finished, Ryan announced he’d decided not to order his customary peach cobbler. Instead, he kept checking his watch. “I’ve got to run,” he said. “I’ve got a couple of reports I need to fill out and email in.”
Even though turnabout would be fair play, Eric resisted the urge to tease his brother about his own work. Truth be told, he felt relieved Ryan wasn’t inclined to chat. He wanted to get home and make sure MW was okay.
He ordered the extra sliced-brisket sandwich, paid for it as well as his own meal and gave his brother a quick hug goodbye before taking off.
The Porsche begged to be driven fast. Sometimes he had to force himself to travel relatively close to the speed limit. With all the afternoon traffic, this was one of those occasions. Nonetheless, he made it home in less time than it had taken him to go the opposite direction, mostly because rush-hour traffic went out of the city rather than in.
After parking in his private garage underneath the townhome, he grabbed the bag and hurried outside. He winced as the late-afternoon August heat blasted him the instant he left the garage. Sadly, the cooling rain of the previous day had turned into a distant memory. Oklahoma summers could be tough. The relentless sun and constant wind sometimes made him feel like dust coated everything, even mixing with the blood inside his body, turning it sluggish. Fanciful, certainly, since as a physician he knew such a thing wasn’t possible. He gave himself a mental shake. It was just a typical Oklahoma summer, and he wasn’t often given to such flights of abstract fancy.
Again he had the nagging feeling that taking in this mystery woman might change his life in ways he never could have anticipated.
Anticipation at seeing her again quickened Eric’s footsteps. Using his key, he entered his town house, trying to be as quiet as possible so if MW still slept, he wouldn’t wake her.
But when he stepped into the living room, she rose gracefully from the sofa to greet him. She’d opened the blinds, and the western sun streamed in so brightly it silhouetted her in a halo. Stopping short, he caught his breath, struck dumb by her beauty.
“You’re back early,” she said, smiling.
Blinking, he took another step forward.
“Ryan had to go back to work. But I brought your sandwich.” He held up the now grease-stained bag. “It’s pretty big, so I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” she told him, her soft voice matching her smile. She followed him into the kitchen, taking a seat at the bar while he located a plate for her. Handing her the sandwich and some paper towels for a napkin, he asked her what she wanted to drink.
“Water is fine,” she answered. “But you don’t have to wait on me. If you’ll point out the cabinet that holds the glasses, I’ll be happy to get it myself.”
Unfortunately, he needed to keep busy to refrain from touching her. “Just sit. I can take care of this, so let me. Maybe after you’re feeling better, but for now, rest and relax.”
Once he got her water, he leaned against the counter and watched as she devoured her sandwich, trying not to eye her too intently while he attempted to figure out what exactly about her so entranced him.
As a physician, Eric believed in logic, in cold hard facts. He knew physical attraction could be due to pheromones, or physical appearance, or a combination of these things and more. Whatever the reason, he desired this woman, whom he’d just met, with a fierceness that should have shocked him. The fact that it didn’t made him wonder if he was losing his mind.
The sandwich disappeared, and MW sighed, blotting her lush mouth with the paper towel. He couldn’t help but follow the gesture with his gaze, feeling as if he might be drowning. She took a deep drink of water, then smiled at him. “Thank you so much. That was absolutely delicious.”
He swallowed tightly. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“Thank you so much for all you’re doing for me.” Impulsively, she pushed to her feet and enveloped him in a tight hug. His arms came up of their own accord, holding her close. He could feel every soft, rounded curve of her as she pressed herself against him. His body stirred, his arousal immediate and strong. Not wanting to frighten or horrify her, he quickly extricated himself from her embrace.
“You’re welcome.” Struggling to sound normal, he cleared his throat. He spied her purple umbrella, still in the
