his bedroom and into his life.
“Because I see patients all the time who feel sorry for themselves. That attitude isn’t conducive to healing.”
He grinned at her. “Believe me, Ava, I’m not a man who goes around carrying a bunch of self-pity. That’s not to say I enjoy trying to walk with a crutch.”
Her gaze swept over him and for the first time in a long time Bowie felt a tinge of color burn his cheeks. He’d never been a vain man. The time he spent in front of the mirror was no longer than it took to shave off his rusty beard. When women looked at him as though they appreciated his looks, he hardly noticed. But having Nurse Ava eyeing him up and down was a totally different matter.
“No,” she said. “I don’t expect you do.”
“I’d rather be fighting fires.”
Turning back to the nightstand, she laid a stack of packaged bandages next to a pair of scissors. “You’ll be back on the fire line soon enough. First we have to get you well.”
Last evening Bowie had been wondering how he was going to tolerate the next few weeks of being confined to the ranch while waiting for his injuries to heal. When his father had told him he’d hired a nurse, Bowie hadn’t been bashful about expressing his views on the subject. The last thing he needed or wanted was some battle-ax coming into his bedroom and ordering him to take off his clothes. But this vision standing by the head of his bed had definitely made the coming days look a whole lot brighter.
“You know, I just spent three weeks in the hospital, and I only saw one other nurse dressed like you. And she was probably forty years old.”
“So that makes her five years older than me,” she replied in a no-nonsense way. “Is anything wrong with that?”
Bowie was stunned. He never would’ve guessed her to be a day past twenty-eight. Not that it mattered. She was gorgeous. And he hoped she was single.
He tilted his head in an effort to get a glimpse of her left hand. From what he could see, there was no ring of any sort on her finger.
“Not at all. I just meant that most nurses wear those colored things that look like pajamas.”
“They’re called scrubs. And they’re comfortable and efficient. I just happen to wear a dress because...I guess it suits me.”
“Well, you look a damned sight nicer.”
She stepped in front of him and reached for the top button on his shirt. The beat of Bowie’s heart shifted into overdrive.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Bowie. I’m not here for your visual pleasure or your amusement. I’m here to help you get well. That’s all.”
“Should I close my eyes?” he asked with a grin. “Or would you like to put a blindfold on me?”
* * *
Ava would like to do more than that to this young lothario. She’d like to pick up her bag and give him a swift and final goodbye before she walked out of his room and away from this three-story ranch house. But she was a professional with a job to perform. She couldn’t allow any patient to get under her skin. No matter how sexy or charming.
Before she’d arrived on the sprawling Silver Horn Ranch this morning, she’d been aware that she would be treating the youngest of the Calhoun brothers. The only one of them who remained single. Other than the information she’d been given on his medical condition, all she knew were snippets of gossip she’d heard through the hospital grapevine. A few of the younger nurses had described Bowie Calhoun as “dreamy” and “hunky” and “a stud.” Ava had never been one to pay much heed to gossip. Most of it was exaggerated hearsay, anyway. But perhaps this was one time she should have listened more closely. At least then she would’ve been prepared for the sight of her patient.
Bowie Calhoun was six feet of honed muscle dressed in ragged blue jeans and a gray chambray shirt. Square jaw, thin chiseled lips and gold-green eyes shaded by a pair of heavy brows were all framed by exceptionally thick tawny-brown hair that reminded Ava of a shaggy lion. The wayward waves fell recklessly over one eye and down the back of his neck. He was one dangerous-looking male, and everything inside Ava was screaming at her to run until there was a safe distance between them. Like thirty or forty miles.
Steeling herself, she stepped closer and reached for the button in the middle of his shirt. The male scent of his skin and hair drifted to her nostrils and for one crazy moment she thought her hands were actually trembling. But she immediately drew in a deep breath and gathered her senses. She didn’t know what was happening to her, but she was determined to put a quick stop to the crazy reaction she was having to this man.
After working all the buttons free, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, all the while carefully keeping her eyes averted from his muscled chest and arms.
“Right now I want you to lie on your stomach and let me take a look at your back,” she said, trying to instill as much firmness in her voice as she could. “I assume your bandages were changed yesterday?”
He stretched out on the nearest side of the bed and turned his head so that it was facing in her direction. “They were changed. Right after my sponge bath. Are you going to give me one of those?”
The sly grin on his face caused her to groan silently. “No. You’ll have to get someone else to help you with that. But I will clean your burns and apply new bandages.”
“Aw, shucks. I thought I was going to be in for a treat this morning.”
A treat? She wanted to remind him that she’d just heard him say he was sick and tired of nurses. Why would he consider her ministrations a treat? Surely a young hunk like him didn’t find a woman nine years older than him attractive.
Wrong, Ava. Bowie is the type who’d flirt with a ninety-year-old grandmother if it would be to his advantage.
Shoving away the mocking voice in her head, she said, “Maybe I can find a lollipop in my tote. All kids deserve a treat after they receive medical attention.”
“Hmm. And she has a sense of humor, too. Where have you been all my life?”
During the thirteen years Ava had worked as a nurse, she’d dealt with plenty of flirtatious patients. Leering men with glib tongues came with the job. Mostly, she didn’t give their behavior a second thought. But something about Bowie Calhoun was different. Even though she was trying to ignore him, he was getting to her in a way she would’ve never expected.
“I live in Carson City,” she said as casually as she could. “What about you? Is this where you normally live? Or are you here because you need your family’s help while you recuperate?”
“My job on the hotshot crew is likely to take me anywhere across the West. Especially during the height of fire season. Otherwise, the Silver Horn is my home. My great-grandfather Calhoun first built the place more than a hundred years ago. Now it’s one of the biggest ranches in western Nevada. Is this your first visit to the ranch?”
There was no bragging in his voice, just pride, and Ava liked that about him. Especially when he had plenty to brag about. And suddenly she was very curious about this young man and his place in the wealthy Calhoun family. Mainly, why would he be working at a dangerous job with a modest salary rather
