“About?”
“He’s having symptoms.”
“What kind of symptoms?”
She took another paper from her purse, opened it and laid it on his desk. “First of all, I need to tell you that Lily knows nothing about this and that’s the way Ryan wants it. That’s also why he took me aside at Steven and Amy’s wedding to talk to me privately. He’d begun having severe headaches and he didn’t want to consult with a doctor in Red Rock or San Antonio because he’d tried to brush off the pain at first. He also didn’t want any more rumors to get started. There have been enough about him concerning…everything.”
“He’s not still a suspect in the Christopher Jamison murder, is he? The police certainly should have ruled him out by now.”
It sounded as if Peter had no doubts about Ryan’s innocence. “Apparently they haven’t ruled him out. That stress alone could cause headaches. But he told me he’d never had this type of headache before, so I took him seriously.”
“Are you staying at the Double Crown?”
“No, I’m staying with Miles at the Flying Aces while Clyde and my new sister-in-law Jessica are on their honeymoon. Miles insisted I stay there so we can visit. I can’t show too much concern about Ryan because Lily and everyone else will become suspicious.”
Peter took the evaluation form she handed him and looked it over. His expression became more somber as he did. “He’s having some tingling in his arm?”
“Yes.”
“You said he didn’t want to see anyone local. Why come to me when my speciality is pediatric neurosurgery?”
“He trusts you, Dr. Clark. You’ll keep all this confidential, including my involvement. I’ve recommended he have testing done but I’m not licensed to practice in Texas and I don’t have hospital privileges here. You, however, do. Ryan thought if the two of us worked together, we could get to the bottom of whatever is wrong. It would safeguard his privacy.”
After a second look at the report she’d written, Peter’s gaze met hers. “I want to talk to Ryan myself.”
“He’d rather not come here, and he doesn’t want Lily or anyone else in the family to know.”
When Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully, Violet couldn’t help but notice what a definitive jawline he had, what large strong-looking hands. “All right. I’m glad Ryan believes he can trust me. We can meet at my house. I can examine him and then we can decide what to do next.”
“When are you available?” Violet asked.
“Tonight.”
Obviously Peter Clark didn’t like Ryan’s symptoms any more than she did. “I’ll call Ryan and see if he’s free.”
She took her little blue cell phone from her purse. A few minutes later, after a brief conversation with Ryan in which they all agreed on a time, she closed the phone and dropped it back into her handbag.
“Ryan said to make sure to tell you he’ll pay you double your usual fee because he knows this is an inconvenience.”
“Ryan’s a friend. There won’t be a fee, not for tonight.”
“He won’t like that.”
Peter smiled. “Maybe not, but it will be my only condition for examining him.”
“I can see why he respects you,” she said softly.
Silent communication passed between them and because of their concern for Ryan, a bond was formed. However, that bond seemed to be more personal than professional.
Standing, she met his gaze. “It was good to meet you, Dr. Clark. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”
“It’s Peter,” he corrected her.
“Peter,” she murmured.
Holding her gaze, he seemed to be waiting for something. Finally, with a wry smile turning up the corners of his lips, he asked, “And should I call you Dr. Fortune or Violet?”
She felt her cheeks turn hot and couldn’t remember the last time she’d blushed. “Violet’s fine,” she decided, feeling much too warm in the small office.
When he rose to his feet and came around the desk, they were standing very close. “Ryan is lucky to have you in the family.”
“He and my dad have always been close. I grew up respecting him, and he’s like a favorite uncle. I don’t want anything to happen to him.”
“This could be serious.”
She already knew that, the possibilities having kept her awake the past few nights. Still, she realized Peter felt he had to put the probability into words, so that she could take it as a warning, so that she wouldn’t deny what might be the cause of Ryan’s problems. “I know this could be serious. But on the other hand, stress and tension could cause symptoms, too.”
“That’s possible. We’ll proceed one step at a time.”
Feeling as if she could stand there all day just looking at Peter, absorbing his strength, his concern and his compassion, she gave herself a mental shake. She didn’t need any of those things from him. Ryan did.
With a deep breath, she stepped away from Peter’s powerful aura and walked toward the door. “You don’t have to see me out. Ryan says he knows where your house is located, so I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tonight,” Peter agreed, his deep voice making the word sound like a commitment.
As Violet escaped into the hall and closed the office door behind her, she knew Dr. Peter Clark’s commitment was to Ryan Fortune.
“That’s the one—number seven-seventeen.” Ryan directed Violet to Peter Clark’s house on the western outskirts of Red Rock.
Developments were springing up randomly in the small community, and it was getting larger. When Violet was growing up and her family visited Ryan and his family on the Double Crown, she loved their little excursions into Red Rock with its rural fields, its round parklike town square with the white gazebo, its ice-cream parlor and family restaurants. Not that Violet had ever wanted to live here. She loved New York City and that was her home.
“I can’t believe all these houses just sprang up over the last year,” Ryan grumbled. “Pretty soon Red Rock’s going to stretch out and meet San Antonio.”
Red Rock was a twenty-mile drive from San Antonio. “I don’t think you have to worry about that quite yet.”
“The garage door’s going up. Peter must have been watching for us.”
Peter Clark’s house was a country-ranch style and angled across the lot in an upside-down open V.
“Looks like a lot of house for a bachelor,” Ryan commented as she pulled into the garage next to an SUV.
A light was on in the garage and Peter stood in the doorway leading into the house. Dressed in khaki slacks and a black polo shirt, he looked taller and more broad-shouldered than he had this afternoon. The sight of him seemed to make Violet’s pulse race faster, but she told herself she was just anxious about Ryan. Deep down, though, she was eager to know more about Peter—too eager. For all she knew, he might be involved with someone. For all she knew, he might have moved into this new house in order to share his life with his significant other.
Sharing her life with someone had never come close to competing with her career.
Her career.
The Washburn case had shaken her confidence more than anything else ever had. She’d taken a cruise to try to gain perspective on what had happened.