Just like the townsfolk said, Nora Darby was prickly, all right,

Stephen thought. But maybe he needed a good challenge in his life. Imagining Nora yielding to him, hissing even as she purred, stirred his blood.

“I’d like to see you again,” he said.

Nora looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted purple horns and a tail. “I don’t date.” The word was laced with contempt.

“Why not?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Finally she simply hurried toward the door.

Stephen watched her go. He wasn’t looking for the love of his life. He’d had that once and lost her. Sassy Nora Darby wasn’t looking for anything permanent, either. But maybe they could find a way to help each other.

Because if she didn’t date, she didn’t get a chance to do…other things.

And watching her move had told Stephen she would probably do those other things very, very well….

MILLS & BOON

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Unexpectedly Expecting!

Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Maureen Child, a gifted writer and a great friend. Your wit, charm and general mouthiness were the inspiration for Nora Darby. Kinda scary, huh?

SUSAN MALLERY

is the bestselling author of over thirty-five books for Silhouette. Always a fan of romance novels, Susan finds herself in the unique position of living out her own personal romantic fantasy with the new man in her life. Susan lives in the state of Washington with her handsome hero husband and her two adorable-but-not-bright cats.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

“Don’t even think about it, Dr. Remington,” Nurse Rosie warned. “Braver men than you have tried to scale that particular mountain and few of them have lived to tell the tale.”

Stephen Remington glanced at his nurse and frowned. “What mountain? Texas is flat.”

He knew that firsthand, Stephen thought. He’d driven across most of it when he’d moved to Lone Star Canyon from Boston six months before. Texas was big and flat and everything he’d hoped it would be when he’d left his job running an urban emergency room for the quiet of country doctoring.

His petite nurse-receptionist gave him a knowing look. “I was using a metaphor,” she said with the patience of a woman long used to the frailties of the male mind. “I saw you staring out the window. It wasn’t hard to figure out what…or who…had captured your attention.”

She pointed out the glass window that fronted his generous office space. Stephen followed the direction of her hand and saw that she’d assumed he was spying on his neighbors across the street.

The Lone Star Canyon Medical Offices shared the downtown area with a couple of banks, three restaurants, a sporting goods store, several clothing shops and a hair salon known as the Snip ’n Clip. The latter establishment was directly across from his office. Normally tinted windows kept out prying eyes, but today, with the afternoon so dark and the shop so bright, it was easy to see into the salon.

He could see two people clearly. One was an elderly white-haired woman in the process of getting her hair lacquered for the week. The other woman wielded the can of hair spray with great style and generosity. He guessed that she was the one Rosie had thought he was admiring.

Stephen glanced at the tall brunette wearing tight jeans, boots and a cropped red T-shirt that exposed a strip of skin that included a very neatly tucked “inny.” Her dark hair fell in loose, sensual curls to the middle of her back. She moved with the sexy grace of a woman who can have any man she wanted without wanting a single one.

“Her?” he said, well aware that if he could see into her place, she could see out to his. Fortunately the woman didn’t seem to notice him.

“That’s the one,” Rose said. “Nora Darby. She might look all soft and sweet on the outside, but on the inside she’s about as friendly as a gut-shot mama bear. Nora doesn’t like men, and with good reason. I don’t want to burst your bubble, Doctor, but better men than you have tried and failed.”

“I see.”

Looking at Nora he could understand why they’d tried. She had it all—a great body with a pretty face. If she could speak intelligently on any subject, she would be perfect. Not for him, of course, but maybe for someone else.

“I’ll admit that she’s very attractive,” he told his nurse, “but you don’t have to worry. I’m not in the market for a woman—gut-shot mama bear or not. Besides, she isn’t what I was looking at.”

He pointed to the dark gray-green cloud that had been hovering on the edge of the horizon. Most of it was hidden behind the building across the street, but he could see the top of it, swirling closer and closer as they talked. It was almost as if a part of the sky had reached down to—

Rosie screamed and grabbed his arm. “Tornado,” she yelled, and headed for the front door.

Stephen frowned. He tugged free of his nurse’s insistent grip. “What are you talking about?”

“We have to get into a storm cellar,” she said frantically. “Oh, supplies. There’ll be injuries.” She glanced out of the window again and shrieked. “It’s nearly here.”

As she spoke, Stephen realized that the wind had picked up around them and that there was a peculiar heaviness in the air. Tornado? He’d heard about them, of course, but he was from the East Coast where phenomena like that occurred on the evening news, not in real life.

But Rosie’s panic was real enough. His normally unflappable nurse ran for the front desk and jerked the emergency first aid kit from its rack on the wall. Stephen took it from her as she grabbed his arm again and headed out the front door.

As they stepped into the street, he could hear the approaching sound of a train. Except there weren’t any train tracks in Lone Star Canyon. His gaze was drawn across the street. Not toward the very tempting Ms. Nora Darby, but to her elderly clientele, all of whom were going to have trouble making it to shelter in time. He shifted course and headed toward the Snip ’n Clip.

“I love this song,” Mrs. Gelson said as she admired herself in the mirror.

Nora tuned in to the sentimental song coming from the small stereo in the back of the shop.

Mrs. Gelson sighed and patted her helmet of white hair. “Makes me miss my Bill. He used to sing this to me.”

Right, Nora thought as she pasted a smile on her face. This would be the same Bill who left his wife and three kids to play poker two nights a week, regardless of whether or not there was enough food in the house. The fact that the money he lost might be needed for the phone bill or shoes for the kids had never occurred to him. And Mrs. Gelson hadn’t said a word in protest. The old couple had been married forty years when Bill had “gone to his reward,” as Mrs. Gelson had put it. At least the bastard hadn’t borrowed against his life insurance, Nora thought grimly. So although she was far from well off, his widow’s last days would be better than her years with him.

But Mrs. Gelson wouldn’t see it that way. Now that Bill was gone, he was a saint and Mrs. Gelson lived to tell stories about his greatness.

“You always said your husband was a romantic,” Nora said warmly, telling the lie that her client wanted to hear. Because it was kind and the right thing to do. Because most women seemed to have convenient memories where men were concerned. Not that Nora had that problem. She had an excellent memory and she never made the same mistake twice.

Mrs. Gelson handed her a ten dollar bill and waited for her two dollars change. Then she dropped one of the bills onto Nora’s station, gave a wave and started for the front door.

Nora stared at the single dollar. She was never going to make any money if she didn’t start raising her prices. Actually she had…several times over the past ten years. However, there were certain customers who couldn’t afford more, so she didn’t charge them more. There were the seniors on limited incomes. Debbie Watson, whose husband had run off, leaving her with four kids and a pile of bills. And nearly a half dozen others in similar circumstances.

“It’s only money,” Nora murmured philosophically as she pocketed the tip and turned to help her elderly client to the door.

Just then the front door flew open. A tall, sandy-haired man in a white jacket stalked inside. Nora recognized Stephen Remington, the town’s new doctor. Successful, single, yeah, yeah, folks had been singing his praises since he’d first arrived. She was deeply unimpressed and continued to drive sixty miles to a different town with a female doctor.

She looked at him now and was pleased that despite his wide hazel eyes and lean good looks, she was immune. As always.

“We don’t do men’s hair here,” she said sweetly. “You’ll have to go to the barber shop down the street.”

“What?”

She sighed. Men could be so incredibly slow, she thought, wondering how he’d made it through medical school. “I said—”

He cut her off with a quick shake of his head. “I don’t care. There’s a tornado coming. Everyone into the shelter.”

Before Nora or anyone could react, the warning siren went off. Sound exploded through the small salon. She swore under her breath as she glanced around at the full chairs. Except for herself and the other three stylists, no one was under sixty-five. They were not a wildly mobile group and the shelter was nearly half a block away, next to the bank.

“Jill, you take Mrs. McDirmity,” Nora said as she ran to the dryers and quickly raised the hoods. “Come on, we have to hurry. Tornado’s coming.”

As she spoke, the noise outside increased. She realized it wasn’t all from the wind and the sirens. Instead there was a loud roaring, punctuated by ripping, tearing and banging, as if the world around them was being torn apart. In less than two minutes all her elderly patrons were moving toward the shelter. Dr. Remington had an arm around two ladies, one with tightly wound curlers in her hair. Dust and debris battered them, but they weren’t hit by anything worse than a few small branches.

Up ahead Nurse Rosie stood at the entrance to the cellar. She hustled people down into the safety underground as quickly as possible. Jill raced by, pushing Mrs. McDirmity in her wheelchair. The doctor lowered his two ladies into the cellar, then called down for help. Together he and one of the guys from the diner across the street carried the elderly woman to safety. The wheelchair was folded up and pulled inside.

“Come on, Mrs. Gelson,” Nora said as she steadied her customer. The widow took cautious steps into the underground shelter.

Nora was the last one on the street. She took a quick look around, searching for stragglers, but didn’t see anyone. Her gaze lingered on familiar buildings and businesses. How much would survive the storm?

She sent up a quick prayer that there wouldn’t be any deaths, then stepped into the cellar. Even as she reached for the door to pull it closed, she couldn’t help pausing and looking back as the tornado swept close enough to take the roof off an abandoned building at the end of the street.

Long, tall, swirling darkness circled up to the sky. The sound was so loud as to be a vibration. The ground shook, the heavens moaned. She had once heard a tornado described as the finger of God, writing across a landscape, destroying without thought or plan. But she’d never witnessed the raw power before. It was amazing. It was—

“What the hell are you doing?” a male voice asked, just as two arms came around her midsection and jerked her into the semidarkness of the cellar.

Nora instinctively released the door. It banged shut. She sensed more than saw movement as someone reached up to bolt it securely. But what really captured her attention was the heat of the man holding her so close.

He held her in an awkward embrace—her back to his front. But that didn’t stop her from feeling the warmth of his body, or his strength. She was tall, nearly five-nine but he was taller. The arms around her nestled just below her breasts. When one of his hands moved, his fingers brushed against the bare skin of her tummy. She shivered. Not from cold or fear of the approaching storm but because…well…because—

Nora pressed her lips together and shoved the arms away. She didn’t know why she shivered, nor did she care. She took a step away from the man who had captured her so neatly, then turned to scowl at him.

Her gaze settled on the sandy-haired man in the white coat. He had hazel eyes, lean features and freckles. She’d heard him described as handsome, but she was immune. Stephen Remington, the town’s new doctor. Of course. No one else would have dared to touch her that way.

She arched one eyebrow, a trick she’d taught herself in junior high. “I wouldn’t have thought a doctor would have to resort to free feels,” she said casually, expecting him to get angry and sputter a protest to her assault on his reputation.

Instead Dr. Remington, new guy in town, gave her a lazy once-over, starting at her expensive boots and heading as far north as her breasts, then ending at her exposed stomach. “I wouldn’t have thought a woman your age would have to resort to dressing like a teenager just to get attention.”

“You mistake my meaning,” she said coolly. “I’m not interested in attention. At least not from you.”

She was aware of their interested audience. In the small storm cellar everyone heard every word. Nora wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She’d been stupid enough to stand on the steps, staring at the approaching storm. The doctor had simply dragged her inside so they wouldn’t all be killed.

Not knowing how else to end their conversation, she turned her back on him and checked with her elderly clients. The shelter was about twenty feet square, with benches along three of the four walls. There were enough supplies to last a couple of dozen people for two days, and a portable toilet was tucked into a curtained alcove. Everyone from the Snip ’n Clip had made it into the shelter safely. Her staff circled among their clients, offering hugs and words of comfort.

Mrs. McDirmity touched the curls of her new perm. “At least Jill had already rinsed out the solution,” she said with a slight smile that trembled at the corners. “I hope my cats are going to be safe.”

Nora settled next to her and took her bent fingers in her own. “You know how they love to hide under beds and sofas when they get scared,” she told the older woman. “That’s the best place for them right now. Instinct will keep them safe.”

Mrs. McDirmity nodded. “I know. I just worry. They’re all I have.”

Nora talked to each of her customers, then chatted with several patrons from the diner. She was careful to avoid Dr. Remington. She often felt his gaze on her, but she didn’t return the attention. As she’d told him before, she wasn’t interested. Not in him or any man. She’d learned her lesson a long time ago.

The noise outside grew worse as the storm passed overhead. Crashes and the sound of breaking glass competed with the roaring of the wind.

In the corner, Mrs. Arnold began to wheeze. She reached for her handbag, but couldn’t catch her breath enough to open it and pull out her inhaler.

“Asthma,” Nora told the doctor as he moved to the woman.

Stephen Remington gave her a quick nod. “I know. She’s my patient.”

Nora gritted her teeth. “Well, excuse me for trying to help,” she muttered under her breath, and hoped the storm would be over soon. If she had to spend much more time trapped with that horrible man, fur was going to fly.

Nearly twenty minutes later, they emerged from the cellar. Nora was one of the last to step out into the murky darkness that was just beginning to clear. The main street had been spared, so her shop was still standing. But two side streets looked as if they’d been crushed by a giant. Debris lay scattered everywhere, and there was a bright red pickup truck parked on the sidewalk by the hardware store. A bright red pickup truck that hadn’t been there before the storm.

The first light drops of rain fell, making her jog toward her shop. The storm was moving northeast, which meant the ranch had already been hit. She wanted to call and see if everything was all right with her family.

She caught up with a couple of her clients as everyone hurried to cover. She offered assistance in the way of a sturdy arm. As she and the last stragglers entered the salon, Jill put down the phone.

“It’s dead,” her stylist said. “No real surprise there. We don’t have electricity, either.”

Nora grinned. “I can fix one of those problems, if not the other.” She walked over to her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “Welcome to the new century. If the cell towers survived we should have service this way.”

She turned on the small phone, then handed it to Jill. “You’ve got kids. Check on them first. I’m sure they’re fine, though. Judging from the direction the storm is heading, I’ll bet it missed your place by several miles.”

Her stylist gave her a grateful smile, then began pushing numbers. Nora saw that Mary and Kathy had already helped their clients collect purses and coats. Everyone was instructed to stay home until power was restored, then return to get the rest of their hair treatment.

Mrs. Arnold, her asthma under control and her hair still tightly rolled in curlers, slipped a scarf over her head. “This will probably dry on its own,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll come back when it does and you can comb it out.”

“Absolutely,” Nora promised. She was about to say something else when she noticed Rosie running toward the medical office across the street.

Nora stepped outside. “Are there injuries?” she yelled.

Rosie paused to catch her breath. “About a dozen or more. Orchard Park is completely gone. There were young kids at home with their moms, plus the construction workers at the new places. Dr. Remington is assessing the injuries now, and we’re going to call in a helicopter for the worst ones. I need to bring supplies.”

Orchard Park was a new residential subdivision in Lone Star Canyon. It was only about half-completed with dozens of houses in various stages of construction. The homes were smaller and less expensive—perfect starter places, which meant plenty of families with young children.

“Do you need another pair of hands?” Nora asked. “Everyone here is fine. I don’t know first aid but I can follow directions.”

Rosie gave her a grateful smile. “Absolutely. Come help me carry stuff back, then we’ll put you to work.”

Nora quickly made arrangements for the salon. Jill was going home to check on her kids. Mary would walk a couple of their clients home while Kathy stayed at the salon. That taken care of, Nora hurried toward the medical offices and prayed that the injuries were minor. For herself she also prayed that she didn’t have to see too much blood. She could verbally take down any man anywhere, but the sight of blood sent her to her knees.

The helicopter lifted off with a rush of wind that reminded Stephen of the tornado. When the pilot had turned west, toward the county hospital, Stephen shifted mental gears, releasing that patient to the care of the Medi-Vac team and focusing on the few people he had left to treat. Nurse Rosie, efficient as always, had helped him evaluate injuries. She’d collected supplies, found family members and had generally acted like the professional he knew her to be. What was surprising was her assistant.

When Rosie had run back to the office for more supplies, she’d returned with an armful of necessities and Nora Darby. The beautiful twenty-something brunette didn’t know squat about being a nurse, but she pitched in wherever Rosie said, applying pressure, irrigating cuts, holding hands, offering words of comfort. She’d gone pale a few times, but otherwise had been a trouper. She might have a dangerous mouth on her, but she also had plenty of backbone and compassion.

He walked to the makeshift first aid station he and Rosie had set up in the parking lot of Kroger’s market. The long awning provided cover from the rain that continued to fall. Stephen checked stitches in the index finger of a sobbing four-year-old, then removed glass from a young man’s eye.

“You’ll need to come back in the morning,” he told the carpenter. “I’ll take off the patch and we’ll do a quick vision test. But from what I can see, you’re going to be just fine.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

The two men shook hands. Rosie walked over and smiled at the patient, then looked at Stephen. “We’re about done here,” she said. “Do you want to head back to the office in case we get walk-ins? I can stay behind and gather the equipment.”

“I’ll help,” said one of the construction guys who had brought in his buddy. “We can put everything in my truck.”

Stephen figured his generosity had less to do with an altruistic nature and more to do with Rosie’s curvy, petite figure and warm brown eyes. In the past six months he’d learned that his incredibly efficient nurse was in her mid-thirties, divorced and kept to herself in her spare time. Sort of like Nora, he thought, eyeing the tall woman talking to a young mother with two scared but uninjured kids. Except Rosie always had a kind word for everyone and Nora had a chip on her shoulder the size of an SUV.

He and Rosie were about the same age. They were both single. He supposed that something should have sparked between them, but it hadn’t. They were work friends, nothing more. So far no woman had captured his attention—not that he was surprised.

He left Rosie with the calf-eyed construction guy and started walking back to the center of town. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nora move in his direction, then pause as if the thought of them sharing each other’s company was more than she could stand.

“I won’t bite,” he promised, motioning for her to join him.

She raised a single eyebrow. “I wasn’t worried about you doing anything,” she said in a bored tone that implied whatever he might want to do couldn’t be of interest to her.

Stephen considered himself a sensible man, but for the first time in a long time he felt himself wanting to respond to a challenge. Even more fascinating, as the tall beauty fell into step next to him, he found himself intrigued by the woman. Who was Nora Darby and why did she hate every man on sight?

“Thanks for your help today,” he said.

“Not a problem.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “We were lucky. There wasn’t much damage in town. I’ve talked to my mom on the cellular phone and I heard that our ranch is fine, but I don’t know about the others. You could get a few more injuries from the outlying areas.”

He hadn’t thought of that. “Good thing we’re going back to the office, then,” he said. “People will look for me there.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, a pickup truck doing at least fifty rounded the corner. The vehicle nearly went up on two wheels. The driver spotted them and started honking, then slid to a stop in the center of the road.

“Doc, Doc, you gotta help!” An old man climbed out of the cab and raced around to the bed of the truck. “My boy. He’s cut real bad.”

Stephen was already running toward the tailgate. He climbed up and registered that Nora had followed.

A man in his late twenties lay stretched out on several blankets. His skin was blue-white, his eyes closed, and there was blood everywhere.

Stephen heard a faint moan from beside him, but couldn’t spare her a glance. “Where is he cut?” he asked.

“On the upper arm, by his shoulder,” the old man said. “I put pressure on it but the blood wouldn’t stop.”

Stephen saw the wad of bandages and lifted them. Blood spurted. He shoved the cloths back in place. There was no way to tell how much blood the man had lost. Too much, for sure. He was already in shock.

Stephen looked at the old man. “Drive,” he commanded. “We’ve got to get him to my office. Now!”

The father complied, hurrying to slide behind the wheel. Stephen opened the first aid kit he’d carried back and dug out several thick bandages. He replaced the soaked ones with a fresh one and ordered Nora to press down hard on the open wound.

The truck bounced through the center of town and screeched to a halt in front of the medical offices.

“Don’t move,” he instructed Nora as he jumped down and ran inside.

Less than a minute later he returned with two IVs—O negative blood and saline. When he had them hooked up, he traded places with Nora.

“I’m going to have to sew him up,” he said, looking at her for the first time since he’d climbed in the back of the truck. She was nearly as white as his patient. “Can you help me?”

She nodded, then swallowed. “I need about thirty seconds first.”

For what? he wondered. But before he could ask, she scrambled out of the truck, ran to a nearby trash can and threw up. As promised, in thirty seconds, she was back at his side.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“No, but that doesn’t matter. I’m not going to pass out and if I have to puke again, I’ll do it over the side.”

She pulled on the gloves he passed her, then listened while he explained the procedure. When he handed her more bandages and an irrigation solution, she gamely did as he instructed. She had to pause to throw up again, but otherwise was as calm and efficient as Nurse Rosie herself.

It was dark by the time the ambulance had pulled away to take the man to the hospital. Nora leaned against the wall of the medical office and told herself to keep breathing. At least her stomach had settled in the past couple of hours. She hadn’t thrown up so much since a bout with the stomach flu three years before, and frankly she could happily go a lifetime without having it happen again.

But despite feeling weak and shaky, she was also proud. Even though her medical training consisted of knowing how to apply a Band-Aid, she’d been able to help today. She’d aided her community in its time of need.

She looked at the now-dark Snip ’n Clip and thought about going over to put everything to right in the shop. Electricity had been restored around five, so she could sweep and vacuum and…She sighed. Not tonight. She was too tired.

“How do you feel?”

She looked up and saw Stephen Remington walking toward her. He’d removed his blood-spattered coat along with his tie. Before she could answer, he touched her forehead, then reached for her wrist and took her pulse. What was more annoying than him touching her was the way her heartbeat seemed to flutter slightly at the contact. Okay, the man was a halfway decent doctor, she thought grudgingly. That didn’t give him the right to examine her.

“I’m fine,” she said, pulling free of his fingers and summoning a weak excuse for a glare. “Say thank you and move along.”

“Thank you,” he said. “But I’m not moving along. You haven’t had anything to eat today, and what you ate this morning is long gone.”

“In more ways than one,” she said, smiling in spite of herself.

“My point exactly. So let me express my gratitude in a practical way. Let me buy you dinner.” He pointed to the diner open at the end of the street. “I’ve sampled most of what they have on the menu. It’s not half-bad.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Thanks for sharing that but you do realize that I was born in this town and that I’ve lived here all my life? Chances are I’ve eaten at the diner more times than you, so I don’t need your commentary on the menu.”

“Why are you so crabby? Must be low blood sugar. You need food.”

He put his hand on the small of her back and urged her forward. Amazingly enough…she let him.

Chapter Two

She had not been thinking, Nora thought in disgust as she and Stephen Remington were led to a booth at the rear of the Lone Star Café. Normally the diner was full for breakfast and lunch, but fairly empty for dinner. However, with half the town still not having electricity and the diner being on the “have” side, families had come in to get a home-cooked meal and to talk about the tornado. Which meant there were plenty of interested parties to watch her sit down across from the doc and to make whispered comments that just happened to drift across the entire restaurant.

She made sure she took the seat that put her back to the crowd so she wouldn’t have to watch their intrigued expressions. She sighed. There wasn’t much to do in Lone Star Canyon but talk about the neighbors. Despite a couple of spectacular exceptions, she’d managed to stay out of the limelight. Tonight that had changed.

“Why the heavy sigh?” Stephen asked as he picked up a menu. But rather than studying the list of offerings, he gazed at her, as if her answer was the most interesting thing he was bound to hear all day.

“People will talk,” she said shortly. She didn’t have to look at the menu. She ate here enough that she could practically recite it by heart.

“About the tornado? Why not? Things like that don’t happen all that often.”

She was willing to admit he was reasonably good-looking and he’d worked hard to save several lives. She’d heard that he was a nice man, not that she was interested or looking, but he had to be about as thick as a board.

“Not the storm,” she said, wishing Trixie would hurry and take their order, or even better, that she hadn’t agreed to dinner in the first place. “About me being here with you.”

“Oh.”

There was a wealth of meaning in that single syllable. She wasn’t sure what, but she didn’t like it.

“Yes, oh. I don’t want the entire town speculating about my personal life.”

“Because…” His voice trailed off.

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. She also spoke slowly so he could understand her meaning. “Because people might think we’re on a date.”

“I’ve heard that you don’t date much,” he admitted. “In fact I was informed that better men than me have tried and failed in that department.”

“I do not appreciate being spoken about behind my back.”

“As you weren’t in the room it would have been difficult to have the conversation in front of you.”

“You could have not had it at all.”

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t start it, someone else did. I simply participated.”

She pressed her lips together but didn’t respond. There was no point in talking about this any further. However, Stephen didn’t share her opinion.

“So what’s the big deal?” he asked. “How come you don’t go out much?”

“Miss Nora hates men,” a voice announced cheerfully.

Nora held in a groan. Her wish for Trixie to appear had been granted, but she was sure the timing couldn’t be worse.

Stephen turned his attention to the pretty forty-something waitress with big hair the color of fire. Trixie gave him a flirtatious wink.

“Nora here is our Himalayan mountain range. You can look all you want and on a clear day she seems real approachable, but if you try to conquer her, you’re gonna freeze to death.”

“Thank you for sharing, Trixie,” Nora said dryly.

“Just trying to help,” the waitress offered with a big smile. “The meat loaf is great tonight, as always. So’s the fried chicken. I’d pass on the fish. It sat out a bit while the tornado ripped through town.”

Stephen touched his menu. “Why don’t you give us a minute. In the meantime, Nora, what would you like to drink?”

“Coffee,” she said, wishing there was a way to walk out of the diner and never be heard from again. She could feel the heat flaring on her cheeks. It was like being sixteen again and confessing to a girlfriend that she had a crush on Bobby Jones. Unfortunately his little sister had been lurking around the corner and had run off to blab the news to the entire school. Nora had endured an entire week of singsong chants of “Nora loves Bobby.” The fact that the object of her desire had asked her to go to homecoming with him had only taken away part of the sting.

It’s not that she was interested in Stephen Remington, but she didn’t appreciate being compared to a mountain range that could freeze a man to death.

“I’ll have coffee, too,” he said.

When Trixie left there was a moment of silence between them. Nora searched frantically for a neutral topic. Anything that didn’t involve her romantic past. Unfortunately her mind was blank.

“I heard that there was some damage on several of the nearby ranches,” Stephen said casually. “You mentioned you’d spoken with your family. They’re fine, right?”

She was so grateful, she almost decided she liked him. Almost. “Yes. My mom said that except for my brother’s house being totaled, the damage was minor.” She thought about Jack’s small two-bedroom structure. “He’ll be able to rebuild fairly easily. The hands were all accounted for. She told me there was more damage at the neighboring Fitzgerald place. The fence line was knocked down, but the great patriarch Aaron won’t let anyone help repair it, which is typical.”

Stephen leaned forward. A lock of his sandy brown hair fell across his forehead, giving him an oddly appealing look. Innocently devious, like a little boy about to pull a prank.

“That’s right. You’re a Darby, aren’t you? One part of the infamous Darby-Fitzgerald feud.”

Trixie appeared with the coffee. Nora quickly ordered meat loaf while Stephen picked the fried chicken. When the waitress left, he shrugged. “I know food like that is bad for me, but it’s a weakness. I allow myself to have it a couple of times a month. I figured I’d earned it today.”

She thought about the lives he’d saved, how he’d stayed so calm, despite all the injuries. While she’d been busy barfing her guts out, he’d been fixing the problem.

He took the coffee mug in his strong-looking hands. “So tell me about the feud. Why did it start, and when? And why are the fences Aaron’s responsibility? They’re shared between the two families, aren’t they?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You want me to squeeze a hundred and forty years of history into a five-minute recap?”

“Something like that.”

She sipped her coffee, feeling the jolt of heat as it hit her stomach. Suddenly she was starving. “Explaining about the fence is a whole lot easier. The Darbys and Fitzgeralds have nearly twenty miles of shared fence. About sixty or seventy years ago the families were in court about one thing or another. They did that a lot back then. Anyway, the judge was so tired of always seeing them in his court that he broke the fence up into five-mile sections. Each family is responsible for ten miles. If they don’t keep it repaired, they’re fined ten percent of the previous years’ income.”

Stephen had been drinking his coffee and nearly choked when he heard the amount of the fine. “Ten percent?”

She grinned. “We have a long history of not getting along. During the 1920s there were several fights about water rights. Things got so bad that a couple of cowboys were killed. The Texas legislature enacted a law saying that if either a Fitzgerald or a Darby interfered with water rights again, both families would lose their ranches.” She made an X over her heart. “I swear it’s true. You can look it up.”

“I believe you. I just didn’t realize there was so much bad blood between the two families. How did it start?”

“About a hundred and forty years ago two friends came to Texas and settled in Lone Star Canyon. Joshua Fitzgerald and Michael Darby were young, fearless and interested in making their fortune. They had neighboring cattle ranches, sharing everything from winter feed to bulls.”

Nora paused. She knew the history of the two families because she’d heard stories about them all her life. What would it have been like to live back then? she wondered.

“Joshua Fitzgerald decided it was time for him to settle down so he sent back east for a wife. A mail-order bride.”

Stephen raised his eyebrows. “A woman, huh? I can see where this is going. I’ll bet she made trouble.”

Nora leaned forward. “Don’t even think about going there, Dr. Remington. This feud wasn’t started by the women of the family, but by the men.”

Trixie arrived with their food and set the large plates in front of them. “You two seem to be getting along real nice,” she said speculatively. “Any chance you’re reconsidering your opinion on men, Miss Nora?”

“Not really, Trixie, but thanks for asking.” She smiled at the waitress, wished she were anywhere but here, then cut into her meat loaf. When she took a mouthful and started chewing, she noticed that Stephen was looking at her. Instantly, heat flared on her cheeks. No doubt he was learning a whole lot more about her than he’d wanted.

“You could eat,” she said after she’d swallowed. She pointed at his plate. “Your chicken is getting cold.”

He picked up his knife and fork. “Please continue with your story. I’m all ears.”

Unfortunately he was more than that. He was good-looking, in a nerdy way, and kind. He didn’t seem frightened of her, which was something she hadn’t experienced in a while. Most men she knew thought of her as a fire-breathing, man-hating dragon.

“Joshua’s mail-order bride wasn’t impressed with her groom. Unfortunately Joshua fell for her hard and fast. He tried everything he could to win her heart, but after a year she left him. They were divorced shortly after that.”

“Let me guess,” he said. “She married Michael Darby.”

“About three days after her divorce was finalized. It seems that she and Michael had fallen in love at first sight and the feelings had never faded. Joshua didn’t take kindly to being cuckolded by his best friend. From that time forward, the Darbys and the Fitzgeralds became bitter enemies.”

Stephen nodded when she was finished. “I can see how something like that would upset former friends, but not enough for a feud to last over a hundred years.”

“This is Texas,” she reminded him. “We don’t do things by halves out here.”

“But you don’t support the feud, do you?” He gave her an engaging smile. “After all, you’re intelligent and very much a part of the present. I can’t imagine someone like you caring about a silly family quarrel.”

Nora had been busy thinking that Stephen wasn’t such a bad guy after all and that maybe she’d misjudged him. But in one hot second, her opinion changed.

“It’s very easy to judge a situation from the outside,” she said calmly, which she didn’t feel at all. “You’ve been here a few months. I’ve lived in Lone Star Canyon my entire life. I can trace my family tree for over six generations. We have traditions that mean something to us.”

He finished chewing a bite of chicken and swallowed. “One of those traditions is the feud?” he asked.

“It’s not that simple,” she told him. She wasn’t about to go into detail. There were personal reasons why she wasn’t a huge fan of the Fitzgerald family.

“What about Katie?” he asked. “Do you hate her?”

Katie Fitzgerald was the oldest daughter and someone Nora had known since she started school. Katie was currently involved with Jack, Nora’s oldest brother, and showing signs of being in love with him.

At one time Nora would have said yes, that she didn’t like Katie very much, but now she wasn’t so sure. For one thing, Katie had a son, Shane, who was the most amazing boy ever born. He and Nora had become friends. Some of Shane’s charm and intelligence just might have come from his mother. For another thing, while they’d been growing up the Fitzgerald kids had seemed to have everything the Darby kids didn’t. Reason enough for a young child to dislike someone. But things were different now. The Darbys finally had enough money. There weren’t anymore worries about feeding and clothing seven kids. Besides, Nora had gotten to know Katie and had found out she wasn’t such a horrible person. And she did seem to make Jack happy. Nevertheless she was a Fitzgerald. Which made the situation confusing.

“Let’s talk about you for a change,” Nora said, glaring at him. “Tell me the deep, dark secrets from your past.”

He laughed. “You mean what’s a good-looking, unmarried doctor like me doing in a place like this?”

“I’ll accept the last part of the question.”

“Fair enough.” He set down his fork. “I was born and raised in New Jersey—the part that’s not close to New York City. I wanted to be a doctor from the time I was little and I made it into medical school. I had a vision of being a simple country doctor. I wanted to take my patients from birth to death.”

“Only if you’re not planning on them living very long,” she murmured.

“I’m talking,” he complained. “You’re supposed to listen attentively and then act suitably impressed. You’re not supposed to interrupt.”

For a second she thought he might be flirting with her, but that wasn’t possible. Men didn’t flirt with her—they ran in fear of their lives. “You don’t know me very well if you expect that,” she said.

“I know you well enough, Nora. I know you’re compassionate, brave, determined and beautiful.”

She blinked. He was kidding, right? Did he really think she was stupid enough to fall for a line like that?

“On what planet?” she asked, but her voice didn’t sound as strong or contemptuous as she’d hoped, and instead of looking embarrassed, Stephen only looked knowing. As if he sensed her secrets and made allowances for them.

“As I was saying,” he continued, “I wanted to be a country doctor. The old-fashioned kind of physician who takes care of every emergency, delivers babies and eases the suffering of the dying, along with everything in between. I got sidetracked with emergency room medicine for a few years, but now I’m here.”

He finished the last of his chicken and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Now you know my life history, why don’t you tell me yours? For starters, why does everyone assume you’re so unapproachable?”

Because she was, she thought, slightly confused by his curiosity. Most men found out about her reputation and went running in the opposite direction.

“I am unapproachable. I don’t suffer fools gladly, I don’t cater to male egos and I’m not interested in playing games.”

Stephen looked at the woman sitting across from him. She’d gone from looking like a confident companion to glancing around like a trapped animal. She wasn’t comfortable talking about herself and she wasn’t comfortable with him. He half expected her to bolt from her seat and race to the door. Except he guessed that Nora would rather die than let him see that she was rattled by their dinner conversation.

He studied her smooth skin, the glossy dark hair spilling over her shoulders, the way her mouth gave away every emotion. Her mother was his patient and adored talking about her children, so he knew that Nora was twenty-eight. What had happened in her young life to make her so wary of men? And why did everyone in town know her secret but him?

Nora wasn’t cold, he thought, remembering the waitress’s comment that she could freeze a man to death. His nurse had implied that no one got to Nora. What he wanted to know was, why?

His interest surprised him. In the past two years he’d managed to avoid feeling anything for anyone except his patients. Emotionally he’d been numb inside. While he wasn’t ready to care again—in fact he’d promised himself he would never fall in love with anyone else—he felt a stirring of interest that had little to do with the heart and much more to do with the mind…and the glands.

Nora engaged his brain and heated his blood. It was a tempting combination.

“You’re not married,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

She set down her fork and pushed away her plate. “I don’t actually think that’s any of your business. Nor am I comfortable talking about my personal life with you.”

“But you asked me all kinds of personal questions.”

“I asked why you’d chosen to open your practice here.”

He leaned forward and grinned. “Actually you asked about deep, dark secrets in my past. Sounds pretty personal to me.”

“Fine. You chose to answer and I didn’t.”

She was prickly, all right, he thought. A challenge. Maybe he needed a good challenge in his life. Imagining Nora yielding to him, hissing even as she purred, stirred more than his blood.

“I’d like to see you again,” he said. “How about dinner tomorrow night?”

She looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted purple horns and a tail. “You’re insane. I don’t date.” The word was laced with both incredulity and contempt.

“Why not?”

It was a simple-enough question. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Sound emerged, but it was more of a splutter than a reply. Finally she simply tossed her napkin on the table, slid out of the booth and hurried toward the door.

Stephen watched her go. He wasn’t looking for the love of his life. He’d had that once and lost her. But he was willing to admit that he was lonely. Maybe it was time to change that. As the ever-prickly Miss Nora Darby didn’t seem to be looking for anything permanent, either, maybe they could find a way to help each other.

Because he was willing to bet that if she didn’t date much, she didn’t get a chance to do other things. And just watching her move had told him she would probably do those other things very, very well.

Nora felt too crabby to sleep. She wanted to pretty up her emotions with words like angry or keyed up, but the truth was she was just plain crabby. Who was that man and what made him think that he had the right to…to…

She collapsed onto a sofa in her living room and sighed. Okay, all he’d done was ask her out. Was that so terrible? Didn’t men ask women out all the time?

Maybe, she thought, trying to hang on to crabby in favor of feeling wistful. But men didn’t ask her out. Not anymore. Not when she could verbally eviscerate them and frequently did. Not when she had a reputation of being difficult, stubborn and the kind of woman a man left at the altar.

She sighed and grabbed one of her floral-print pillows. She tucked the square against her chest and hugged it close. The worst of it was she’d been tempted to accept Stephen’s invitation. For one brief second she’d thought about saying yes. Which was crazy.

Except…Nora shifted until she was curled up on the sofa. A part of her had sort of enjoyed her dinner with Stephen. He didn’t seem intimidated by her. She didn’t get out all that much anymore. Not just because she didn’t date but because all her girlfriends had married and were starting families. They didn’t have time for dinners out and she was usually too busy to break for lunch.

“I’ll make new friends,” she told herself softly. “Friends who are single like me.” She vowed to start searching these mythical folks out the following day, despite the fact that most single females in Lone Star Canyon were either under twenty or over sixty-five.

“We’ll do things together. I won’t be reduced to accepting invitations from a man who spells his name with a ‘ph’ instead of a ‘v,’ like normal people. A man from Boston, or worse, New Jersey.”

That decided, Nora thought about standing up and getting ready for bed. Between the tornado and her unexpected stint of nursing, she’d had a busy day. She was tired, she thought as her eyes drifted closed. But right now she felt too comfortable to move. Instead she would just…

The man’s hands were warm and smooth and strong. Not sissy hands, but powerful and lean, with long fingers that knew exactly where to touch her. Despite being curled up on the sofa, Nora found herself arching toward those questing fingers that explored first her arm, then her shoulder. She trembled at the feel of his heat against her bare skin. She—

Bare skin? Nora opened her eyes and realized she was lying naked on her sofa. And she was no longer alone. Stephen Remington crouched next to her. Instead of his slacks, dress shirt and white coat, he wore jeans and a cable-knit sweater. Far too dressed, she thought hazily.

“Tell me about your past,” he murmured, then kissed the sensitive skin just below her ear.

“Don’t want to,” she managed to say, between a gasp of erotic excitement and a soft cry of pleasure.

His strong hands urged her to shift onto her back. She did so, tossing the pillow away. He kissed her cheek, her chin, but when she tried to press her lips to his, he turned away. Before she could protest, he cupped her breasts. Thumb and forefinger teased her nipples, making her cry out and arch into his caress. She was on fire. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched her, but it had been far too long. Celibacy was the downside of not getting involved, she thought, her mind thick with long-denied passion.

He continued to stroke her curves. He pressed kisses to her belly, then moved lower. She shifted so that he could kiss her most intimate place of all. For a second there was nothing, then the perfect wonder of his tongue tasting her, teasing her, making her tilt her hips toward him and desperately call his name. Her body tensed and spiraled closer and closer to her point of release. She’d never been so ready so fast.

But before she could climax, he stopped. She opened her eyes and stared at him in disbelief. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

She reached to touch his head, his face, his hair. She was on fire and she would die if he didn’t continue, didn’t finish.

“Please,” she breathed, holding him tightly. “Don’t stop. Don’t.”

Nora woke with a start. She was still curled up on the sofa, clutching the pillow to her belly. Confusion filled her, then cleared as she realized it had been nothing more than a dream. A stupid dream that didn’t mean anything.

She sat up and realized that while her mind might have figured out it was just a dream, her body was less aware of what was going on. She was aroused and ready to make love. To Stephen Remington of all people. How dare he get into her mind and mess with her that way? How dare he—

She moaned as she remembered the feel of his mouth against her body, then she shivered. She’d spent a couple of hours with the guy and he’d invaded her sleep? What was going on?

Nora vowed that whatever it was she would figure out the problem, then fix it. She wasn’t interested in having a man in her life. Not now, not ever. They were annoying and difficult and not for her. Not even Dr. Stephen Remington.

Chapter Three

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Nora froze at the sound of the too-familiar voice. The voice of the man who had haunted her sleep for the past two nights, invading her time of rest and assaulting her with hot kisses and erotic touches that left her aroused and frustrated when she awoke.

She ignored him by focusing on her client—an elderly lady stretched out on a chair, with her neck propped on the edge of the shampoo bowl in a back room of the Lone Star Retirement Village.

“Don’t distract her,” Mrs. Bailey said in her wavering voice. The white-haired, birdlike woman was nearly ninety. “Nora is busy making me beautiful. It takes longer these days than it used to.”

“I would never dream of getting in the way of a lovely woman and her appointment with beauty,” he said. “I just wanted to say hello to my favorite hairdresser.”

Nora was wrist-deep in shampoo and hair, but she couldn’t help glancing at Stephen as he leaned against the door frame of the small room. He wore a white coat over a dust-colored shirt and brown slacks and there was a knowing look in his dark eyes. As if he suspected she’d spent the past couple of nights dreaming about him.

“Not likely,” she muttered, referring more to him guessing her secret than to her being his favorite hairdresser.

“It’s true,” he protested. “You’re the only hairdresser I know.”

She nearly snorted at the adolescent comment. “Aren’t you the clever one? How very humorous. It’s amazing that I can keep upright, what with the laughter coursing through my body at that one. Gee, Doc, if medicine doesn’t work out, you have a career in stand-up comedy at the ready.”

He didn’t budge. Worse, he didn’t even blink at her tirade. “Does the word overkill mean anything to you, Nora?”

“No. Some things can’t be dead enough.”

She gave him an insincere smile, then flipped on the water. When the fine spray heated to the correct temperature, Nora rinsed off her hands, then carefully removed the shampoo from Mrs. Bailey’s white curls.

“I’d like to talk with you before you leave,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the sound of running water.

She had a strong urge to tell him that she didn’t care what he wanted, but she didn’t want to sound like a petulant child. She shrugged her acceptance of his statement, then felt more than saw him leave the room.

“Why don’t you like Dr. Stephen?” Mrs. Bailey asked as Nora wrapped a towel around her head and helped her into a sitting position. “He’s very nice. Besides, he’s really a dish.” Mrs. Bailey blinked her pale blue eyes and smiled. “I suppose you young people would say he’s hot.”

Nora wrinkled her nose. “I’m not going to say anything at all about the good doctor’s appearance. I’m sure he’s everything he should be. But I’m not interested.”

“Nora, you can’t hide from men forever.”

“Why not?” The plan had been working so far. If not for those darned erotic dreams.

“Because you’re a beautiful young woman who should be married with a family.”

The elderly woman’s words caused a tiny ache to take up residence in Nora’s heart. “I wouldn’t mind the kids,” she said honestly. “In fact I’d like them very much. It’s the husband I object to.”

“Men aren’t so bad.”

“Neither is an allergy to shellfish. That doesn’t mean I want one.”

Mrs. Bailey chuckled. “Nora Darby, you’re a pistol, girl. But mark my words. One day you’re going to meet a man who sweeps you off your feet. You’re going to lose your heart to him and then where will you be?”

“Running for my life.”

“No. You’ll be very happy.”

Stephen looked up at the light knock on the entrance to the makeshift office he used when he was called out to the Lone Star Retirement Village. Nora Darby glared at him, her beautiful brown eyes snapping with temper, her hackles already raised as she prepared for the slight she was so sure was coming.

Stephen bit back a grin. Nora was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen—at least in person. He remembered a couple of adolescent fantasies that had come close. Today she wore her dark, curly hair pulled on top of her head in a ponytail. Curls tumbled down to the nape of her neck, where they teased the faintly tanned skin there. The temperature had climbed into the mid-eighties—not unusual for spring in Texas, or so he’d been told. In honor of the heat—or maybe just to torment him—Nora had dressed in a cropped short-sleeved white shirt that had impossibly tempting, tiny buttons that started at the valley between her breasts and continued to the hem of the shirt, at her waist. Her low-slung denim skirt left about two inches of skin bare around her middle. Long, tanned legs disappeared into worn cowboy boots.

“What did you want?” she asked, folding her arms under her breasts. The movement pulled the shirt higher, exposing more of her tummy.

Nora Darby had a body built for sin, he thought, amazed that he could feel heat flaring through his body. He hadn’t wanted a woman in so long, he’d assumed that part of him had died…or at least been frozen. Apparently he’d only needed the right kind of inspiration to wake things up.

“What’s that expression?” he asked. “The one about a woman being a long, tall drink of water?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m tall. Five-nine. Is that what you wanted to talk about? And while we’re on the subject, I don’t appreciate being ordered into the inner sanctum. I don’t work for you.”

“It wasn’t an order,” he said, motioning for her to take the chair on the opposite side of his desk. “It was a request.”

She ignored his invitation and stayed by the door. “You didn’t say please.”

She was twenty kinds of trouble, he thought, holding in yet another grin. Damn, she made him feel alive and as randy as a sixteen-year-old spying on cheerleading practice.

“Please,” he said, rising to his feet and walking around to stand behind the chair. “I would be most honored if you would be so kind as to give me a few minutes of your time.”

Her eyebrows drew together in a scowl, but she tossed her head and made her way to the chair. When she plopped down, he returned to his own seat.

“I don’t like you,” she said before he could broach a different subject. “You’ve got the entire town convinced you’re a wonderful doctor, so kind, so handsome. I don’t believe a word of it.”

She was defensive, he thought, feeling a surge of pleasure. Which meant she felt threatened. Did he get to her? Maybe his physical reaction to her wasn’t completely one-sided.

“Thank you for your candor,” he said, leaning forward and resting his hands on his desk. “What I wanted to talk to you about was the women you see when you’re here.”

He read her thoughts as clearly as if she’d printed them on paper. She wasn’t sure why he was ignoring her comment about not liking him. She’d expected some kind of reaction—perhaps a defense of his practice. But Nora didn’t threaten him. Quite the opposite. He didn’t know why she wanted to play the prickly virgin, but he didn’t object to her following a script, as long as she didn’t expect the same from him.

“What about the women I see?” she asked, latching on to a new perceived slight. “You think it’s silly or a waste of time. That they’re old women and having their hair done or painting their nails doesn’t matter.” Fire flashed in her beautiful eyes. Her full mouth curled in disdain.

“I might not have your medical degree, Dr. Remington, but I know people. Especially women. I don’t care if they’re ten or a hundred, they care about their appearance. Feeling pretty reminds them they’re alive, and in a good way that pain and illness can’t. I come out here every week and see my regulars. They’re important to me. In a way, that’s part of the service I provide. It’s not all about curlers and nail polish. Some of it is about connecting. Making them feel that someone knows who they are and cares about them.”

As she spoke, her breathing increased, making her breasts rise and fall in a most provocative way. It was nearly enough to distract Stephen from her words. Nearly, but not quite.

“Stop assuming the worst, my little hellcat,” he said calmly. “I’m not being critical or judging what you do. As a physician I know the value of treating a patient’s soul as well as the body. I applaud your efforts. I encourage them. If a regular client of yours doesn’t have the money for a shampoo and whatever it is you do, I would like you to tell me. I’m sure we can arrange something by way of a supplemental payment.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’ I also wanted to ask you to let me know if anyone you see seems depressed or lethargic. My patients matter to me and I want to be informed of any change in their condition. Especially those here at the retirement village.”

Her lips pressed together as she absorbed his words. She cleared her throat. “I can do that.”

He rose to his feet. “What? No witty comeback, no scathing comment?”

Her gaze didn’t meet his. Instead she seemed to focus on the pocket of his lab coat. “Not at this time.”

He had the strongest urge to walk around the table and kiss her. Just cup her cheek and lay one on her until they were both breathless. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

“How disappointing,” he said quietly, referring to the kiss that wouldn’t be as much as the lack of snappy comeback. “Maybe next time.”

She gaped at him like a fish. While she was still in shock, and relatively docile, he made his escape, chuckling all the way.

“Like I want to be here,” Nora grumbled to herself a couple of days later as she pulled into the open area in front of the main house at the Darby ranch.

Her mother had issued a dinner invitation, and when Nora had tried to get out of it, Hattie had informed her it was a command performance. Death and dismemberment were the only excuses for lack of attendance. She glanced at her left hand and the broken ring-finger nail. She doubted that would count with her mother, so here she was.

She parked her car next to Katie’s Explorer. Katie and her son, Shane, had been living on the ranch for more than a month now. Nora climbed out of her car and frowned. Katie had moved in temporarily, until her new house was built. Shouldn’t it be finished by now? Maybe the two Fitzgeralds could leave the Darby ranch and go to their own home. Wouldn’t that be nice? Or Katie could leave Shane behind. That would be even better.

Pleased at the thought, Nora hurried up the steps and entered the house. “Hi,” she called as she stepped into the living room. “It’s me.”

She had planned to say more, to step forward to hug her mother and maybe tease her brother, but all thoughts fled her brain. One second she was in complete command of her senses and the next she was a blubbering idiot. All because Stephen Remington stood by the fireplace, a can of beer in his hand, looking for all the world as if he belonged there. No doubt he’d been invited by her mother in a futile attempt at matchmaking. She barely noticed anyone else in the room.

Her heart began to stutter and thump in her chest. Her legs grew weak and suddenly her entire body felt about twenty degrees hotter. Just setting eyes on Stephen was enough to remind her of the erotic dreams she’d been having. Dreams she couldn’t seem to make stop. Night after night she found herself caught up in sensual wonder, with him touching her and her begging him to make love with her. Every morning she woke up aroused, unfulfilled and confused.

“Hello, Nora,” her mother said warmly, rising to her feet and holding out her arms. “You look lovely as always.”

Nora moved forward automatically. She hugged her mother, then helped her back into her seat. “How are you feeling?”

A few months before, Hattie had fallen while barrel racing at a friend’s barbecue. She’d required surgery and physical therapy to heal her injuries. Nora and her brother Jack had been torn between admiration for their fifty-something mother’s zest for life and frustration that she would take such risks. Still, Hattie had never been one to follow the rules.

“I’m wonderful,” her mother said, smiling and patting the cushion next to her. “I’m down to weekly physical therapy, and I’ll be riding by the end of the month.”

“Riding? You can’t be serious.”

Nora nodded at her brother, who sat in the sofa opposite, then turned her attention to the woman sitting next to him. Katie Fitzgerald was blond, petite and pretty. As a teenager Nora had been taller than all the boys and had never felt as if she would fit in. Perfect Katie Fitzgerald had been the center of attention, smart and popular. Nora still felt like a gangly colt around the other woman.

“Is it all right for my mother to ride?” Nora asked.

Katie grinned. “You think she’s going to listen to me? I’m just her physical therapist. Hattie is her own woman. You know that as well as anyone.”

Nora sighed. Katie was right. She patted her mother’s hand. “Just be careful.”

“You could ask me to tell her it isn’t wise,” Stephen said from his place by the hearth. “After all, I’m her doctor.”

Nora wanted to say, “Don’t remind me,” but that would sound too juvenile. “I guess I’m going to have to trust my mom to be more careful this time,” she said, avoiding Stephen’s gaze.

She hated that she was actually afraid to talk to the man. As if by engaging him in conversation she would inadvertently reveal what was in her mind. She glanced around the spacious living room and saw Shane, Katie’s son, sitting in a chair by the window and playing a handheld video game.

She rose and crossed to him. As she approached, the blond-haired, blue-eyed boy looked up at her. His small glasses rested halfway down his nose. He pushed them back with an automatic gesture, then held out the game to her.

“Are we saving the universe?” she asked as she took the game and plopped down on the floor next to him.

“Yup. But I’ve got a really high score.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And you don’t think I can beat you?”

Shane grinned. “No way. You’re a grown-up and a girl.”

“Be careful about the girl insults,” Stephen warned. “Nora doesn’t take kindly to those.”

“Ignore him,” Nora whispered, and pressed a couple of buttons on the keypad. “Is this where I remind you I can get to a higher level than you on the space warrior game?”

“Just a couple of times,” Shane told her.

“I see. And how many times have we played?”

Shane leaned forward and rested his bony elbow on her shoulder. She didn’t mind the slight discomfort, or the weight of him as he leaned on her. “Maybe three times.”

“And I beat you on how many of those games?”

“All three.”

“Do you still want to talk about girls not having the skills?”

He giggled. “But that doesn’t count.”

“Oh, it doesn’t, does it?” She tossed the game onto the cushion, then turned quickly and began tickling him. “I say it counts a lot, young man. I say it counts more than anything.”

Shane fell back into the chair, laughing and shrieking, pushing her fingers away from his ribs, then protesting when she stopped. Finally, he slid off the chair and settled onto her lap. Nora might be ambivalent about her brother’s relationship with Katie Fitzgerald, but she was a hundred percent sure about Katie’s wonderful son. Nora adored Shane.

The remaining adults were discussing the rebuilding efforts after the tornado. Nora wrapped her arms around Shane and let her gaze drift around the room. She remembered a time when the furniture in the house had been shabby and Hattie had stretched every penny to the breaking point. In the past few years, that had changed. A combination of Jack’s expert management of the ranch and an influx of cash from newly found oil on the property had given the Darby family a taste of prosperity.

Much of the old house had been renovated, including the wood floors in this room and the entire kitchen. Worn furniture had been replaced. Nora was pleased that there was finally money in the bank to see the ranch through future tough times. Jack and Hattie had also put money in trust for all seven of the Darby children. Nora was already eligible to start taking out her share, but she didn’t know what she would spend it on. She’d decided to keep her nest egg in the bank where it could grow steadily.

Her brother gave Katie a knowing look, then stood and left the room. Nora watched him go. Something was up, she thought, wondering what secrets Katie and Jack might share.

Plenty, she realized a couple of minutes later when Jack returned carrying a chilled bottle of champagne along with a smaller bottle of sparkling apple cider. Hattie produced a tray of half a dozen champagne glasses.

“We have an announcement,” Jack said, holding out his hand to Katie, then drawing her to her feet. He put his arm around her and gazed lovingly into her big blue eyes.

Shane turned to grin at Nora. He practically vibrated with happiness. “They’re gettin’ married,” he said in a not-so-subtle whisper.

All the adults, except for Nora, laughed. It’s not that she was unhappy…exactly…she just wasn’t sure what she felt.

“That’s right,” Jack confirmed. “Katie has done me the honor of agreeing to be my wife. Shane will be my son.”

The boy pushed off Nora and flew to Jack’s side. Nora watched as her brother scooped Shane up in his arms and held him close. Hattie wrestled with the champagne bottle until Stephen rescued her and expertly popped the cork.

“The best part of this is I get a new house,” Hattie said, holding out the tray so Stephen could fill everyone’s glass. Katie served the sparkling cider to her son.

“They’re going to live in this house,” her mother continued, “while I have a charming new place built for myself.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Nora said, still not sure what she should make of the situation.

She stared at her brother and his fiancée who were gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. Married? To a Fitzgerald? Jack couldn’t possibly. Nora sighed. Of course he could. She’d seen how the two of them looked at each other. Katie and Jack made each other very happy. They would be crazy to walk away from the opportunity.

Nora scrambled to her feet and took the champagne Hattie offered, then raised her glass as Stephen proposed a toast to the lucky couple. The sparkling liquid bubbled on her tongue, but she couldn’t actually taste the sweetness.

“Are you all right with this?” Stephen asked as he moved next to her. “You look like you’re in shock.”

Normally she would have told him to mind his own business, or offered some other kind of witty comeback, but her mind was still absorbing the news.

“I’m fine,” she said slowly. “I’m surprised, although I guess I shouldn’t be. Katie’s been staying on the ranch for several weeks now and it’s been obvious that they care about each other.”

“So you don’t mind your brother getting married?”

She stared at the man in front of her. For once she was able to ignore the heat flaring through her body and the fact that she knew exactly how he would touch and kiss her if they ever made love.

“I’m not a shrew,” she told him. “I want Jack to be happy. He deserves this. Katie is very nice. I know she’s good for him, and Shane is a treasure.”

“But she’s a Fitzgerald.”

“We can’t all be perfect.”

Stephen smiled then. A slow, male smile that made her aware that if he stepped just a little closer he could touch her bare arms and maybe even kiss her. Her breath caught as she imagined what it would be like to feel his skin on hers for real, and not just in her dreams.

Her mouth went dry at the thought. Her legs quivered slightly and there was a definite warmth flowing out from her belly.

“Nora?”

She turned at the sound of her name and saw Katie standing next to her. Petite, blond Katie wearing a pretty blue dress and looking like a perfect china doll. Nora sighed. She was tall. She would always be tall. Sometimes she even enjoyed being tall. If only there weren’t so many short people around.

“I’m happy for you,” Nora said quickly. “I mean that. I’m not a mean person, just crabby on occasion.”

Katie gave her a grateful smile. “I know there have been some problems between our two families.”

“Yeah. A hundred-plus years of feuding.”

“I don’t want it to be like that anymore.” Katie’s expression turned earnest. “I want us to be friends.”

Nora swallowed and was a little surprised to find she wanted that, too. As if her family wasn’t big enough already. “That sounds good,” she murmured, then had to clear her throat.

“About the house. Jack and I were going to rebuild his place. I mean, I know I don’t belong here. I’m selling the place I bought because Jack needs to live on the ranch.” She cleared her throat. “The thing is Hattie decided she wanted a new place for herself. She insisted Jack, Shane and I live here.” Katie’s hold on her glass tightened. “I sort of got trapped into the situation.”

Nora touched the smaller woman’s shoulder. “Stop saying that. You’re marrying the oldest Darby son. That makes this house your home. It’s always been that way, Katie. You know that. As for Hattie, if my mom didn’t really want a charming new house of her own, you couldn’t pry her out of here with a crowbar. You know that, too.”

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“As much as I would like the title, I’m not the queen of the world. I want you and Jack to be happy. I mean that.”

“Good.” Katie smiled again. “The wedding is going to be fairly soon. We don’t want a long engagement. Also, we don’t want a big fuss, so it’s only going to be friends and family attending. My father didn’t take the news very well, so I’m not sure if he’ll be coming, but the rest of my family will be there.”

Katie didn’t have to spell it out for her. Nora knew exactly what her future sister-in-law meant. David Fitzgerald, Katie’s oldest brother, would be at the wedding.

“I’m a big girl,” Nora said with a lightness she didn’t feel. “I can handle David.”

Before Katie could respond, Jack called her over to his side. Nora watched the couple step close to each other, as if they’d always been together. She sighed. “I think they’ll be very happy.”

“I think you’re right.”

Stephen’s voice surprised her. She’d forgotten he was standing next to her. Now he took a step closer, which meant that she could almost feel his heat.

“You did a nice thing,” he said softly. “Katie was afraid that you’d be upset about the engagement and the fact that Hattie wants them to have the house.”

Nora grimaced but didn’t say anything. In her capacity as a physical therapist, Katie spent a lot of time consulting with Stephen. Of course they would talk.

“Katie makes my brother happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“And you’re really fine with this?”

“I already told you. I think it’s wonderful. Jack will be a great husband to Katie and an even better father to Shane.”

Stephen did the unthinkable. He actually put his arm around her. Nora was so stunned she nearly dropped her drink.

“Now that we’ve cleared that up,” he said conversationally, as if he touched her like this all the time. “Answer me another question. Who’s David?”

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