Date with a Cowboy. Diana Palmer

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      He frowned. “What’s your point?”

      “We’re barely inside the city limits,” she said, “but the fact is, we are inside them. When they begin to bloom, Chief Grier will send one of his officers out here to pull them up.”

      Jared didn’t mention that he’d like to see anyone do that with Tony watching. “Why?”

      “They’re opium poppies,” Mrs. Lewis emphasized.

      He whistled. “I’ll bet Tony didn’t realize it.”

      “Better tell him,” Mrs. Lewis replied. “Before he gets in trouble with the law.”

      He was going to say that it was way too late for that, but he didn’t dare. “I’ll talk to him,” he said.

      “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Get better, dear,” Mrs. Lewis added with a smile for Sara.

      “I heal fast,” Sara replied, grinning. “Thanks.”

      Jared went out to make some phone calls and Sara finished her soup and dozed off. When she opened her eyes again, it was getting dark outside. She hadn’t thought about nightclothes, but it was obvious now that she’d arrived with only her purse and the clothes she’d had on when they transported her to the hospital. She didn’t have anything to sleep in.

      There was a wonderful smell of spices drifting down the hall. Seconds later, Tony stuck his head in the door.

      “You like spaghetti?” he asked.

      “I love it,” she replied, smiling.

      He smiled back. “I’m just about to take up the pasta,” he said. “It fell off the wall when I threw it there, so it’s got about two minutes left before it’s al dente.”

      “Al who?” she asked.

      He glowered at her. “Al dente,” he repeated. “Just right for the teeth. When you throw it at the wall and it sticks, it’s just right to …”

      “What the hell have you done to my kitchen wall?” came a roar from down the hall.

      “I have to check that the pasta’s ready!” Tony called to him.

      Jared stomped down the hall, glaring at his bodyguard. “You’ve got streaks all over the damned paint!”

      “They wipe off, boss,” Tony assured him. “Honest.”

      “You couldn’t just stick a strand of it in your mouth and chew it to see if it’s ready?” Jared grumbled.

      Tony’s eyebrows arched. “Who bit you?” he asked.

      Jared’s face was like iron. He looked furious. “The bread’s burning.”

      Tony rushed back down the hall without another word.

      Jared glared at Sara. “Harley Fowler’s in the living room.

      He stopped by to see about you.”

      “That’s nice of him.”

      “Nice.” His green eyes were glaring. “I don’t have time to run a hospital complete with visiting hours,” he muttered.

      She flushed with embarrassment. She hadn’t expected Harley to come looking for her.

      Jared backstepped at her expression. She’d just had surgery and he was acting like a jealous boyfriend. He caught himself and tried to relax. It didn’t work. Harley was poaching on his preserves. “I’ll send him in. Don’t encourage him to stay long or drop in unexpectedly again without calling first.”

      “I won’t,” she began, but he was already halfway down the hall before she got the words out. She felt terrible. She was imposing on him. She should never have suggested that they take care of each other when they got sick. It was apparent that Jared already regretted agreeing to it.

      Harley didn’t look much better than Sara did. His lips were compressed and he was carrying his wide-brimmed Western straw hat.

      “How’re you doing?” he asked.

      She sighed. “I’m feeling much better,” she said.

      “You don’t look it. Why don’t I phone Lisa and see if you can stay with her and Cy until you’re back on your feet?” he suggested.

      “I really don’t need looking after,” she replied. She felt uneasy. “Harley, do you think you could drive me to my house?” she added in a low voice.

      He scowled. “You’re not well enough to look after yourself, Sara. You won’t even be able to lift a gallon of milk until that incision heals.”

      “I don’t drink milk and I want to go home.” She pulled herself off the bed, grimacing because it hurt. Jared had her pain capsules, but she’d be damned if she was going to ask him for them. It was clear that he didn’t want her here.

      She moved to the foot of the bed. She’d forgotten that Jared had carried her down the hall. Walking it was going to be an ordeal, and she didn’t dare ask Harley to carry her, although she knew he would if she asked.

      Harley’s arm shot out and caught her as she began to weave. “Here, you’re not able to do this, Sara,” he said firmly.

      “What the hell are you doing?”

      Jared walked right around Harley, picked Sara up and put her back in the bed. “Stay there,” he said shortly.

      She flushed again. “I will not! I just asked Harley to drive me home.”

      Jared felt his height decrease. “You’re not able to stay by yourself yet.”

      “I am so,” she retorted.

      Jared glared at Harley as if the whole thing was his fault.

      “You’ll take her out of this house over my dead body,” Jared told the younger man. He said it very softly, but it was a threat. Harley had seen eyes like that over the barrel of a gun. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

      “I’m in the way here,” Sara interrupted, sitting up. She winced and held her incision with her fingertips. “I’ve got frozen TV dinners and I need to get back and take care of Morris, anyway!”

      “I fed the cat today,” Tony the Dancer said from the doorway. He was wearing a huge white apron and holding a slotted spoon. He frowned. “Something wrong here?” he queried when he tallied up the taut faces.

      “She’s trying to escape,” Jared muttered.

      “Hey, don’t you listen to him,” Tony said firmly, pointing the spoon at Jared. “It was only the one time I dropped baking soda in the sauce by accident. This sauce is perfect. You don’t need to run away on account of my cooking.”

      “You cook?” Harley exclaimed, looking at the tall, muscular man with the olive complexion and wavy

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