Marrying Dr Maverick. Karen Smith Rose

Melba had seen him with Jazzy the past two days. The older woman watched over her guests with an eagle eye.

      He climbed the stairs, glad he’d put lids on the coffee cups or he’d have sloshed it all over the box and donuts. He was just eager to show Jazzy the property, that was all.

      But deep down, he knew the reason for his eagerness was more than that. When he brought Jazzy back here yesterday and examined her shoulder, he’d had to remind himself over and over again that it was a clinical examination. But he could vividly remember how she’d felt under his fingertips, the look in her eyes. They were attracted to each other and fighting it. Just how difficult was it going to be to work together?

      Not too difficult, he hoped. They wouldn’t have time for attraction, not if they were going to get a clinic up and running. So the sooner they looked at the property and got started, the better. It was silly, really, but he couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. Jazzy was so positive and upbeat, so excited about new things. She understood the dedication it took to take care of animals, and she even admired it. Unlike Lynnette. She was so different from Lynnette. Jazzy wouldn’t do anything half-measure. Dating Jazzy could be an unrivaled experience. More than dating her could be...

      He thought about his dad’s ultimatum. Marriage would be a solution. Yet after his experience with Lynnette, he couldn’t even think about it.

      It was a shame he couldn’t erase the shadows of the past from his memory bank.

      When he reached Jazzy’s door, he shuffled the box into one arm and rapped. She didn’t answer. Could she have gone out? Was that why she hadn’t appeared at breakfast?

      He rapped again. “Jazzy?” he called. “Are you in there?”

      To his relief, he heard movement inside. Then Jazzy was opening the door, looking as if she’d just awakened from a deep sleep. Her blond hair was mussed around her face and she’d pushed her bangs to one side. She was wearing a raspberry-colored nightgown and robe over it, but she hadn’t belted the robe and the lapels lay provocatively over her breasts.

      He quickly raised his gaze to hers. “Are you okay?”

      She seemed to come fully awake. Now she belted her robe, cinching it at her very slim waist. That wasn’t a whole lot better, but she didn’t know that. He’d just have to package his lusty thoughts away in mothballs. He was concerned about her and that concern must have shown.

      “Tell me the truth, Jazzy.” He didn’t want some varnished description of how she was feeling.

      “Can I tell you over donuts and coffee?” she asked. “That really smells good.”

      If she wanted coffee and was hungry, she had to be okay, right?

      Without a second thought, he stepped inside the room. She moved over to the nightstand, clearing it of books and lotion. She set them on the small dresser.

      After he settled the box on the nightstand, he pulled over the ladder-back chair while she curled up cross-legged on the bed. She was so natural...so unaffected...so pretty.

      He opened the box of donuts, pulled out a chocolate-glazed one and handed it to her. “Tell me.”

      She wrinkled her nose at him. “As the day went on yesterday, I got more sore. Last night I couldn’t get to sleep. It must have been about 4 a.m. when I finally did, and I guess I was in a deep sleep until you knocked. You should have called to warn me you were coming.”

      “You need a warning?”

      She shrugged. “A girl doesn’t like to be caught with her hair all messed up.” She flipped a hank of it over her shoulder.

      He laughed. “You look—”

      She held her hand up to stop him. “Do not say fine. No woman wants to hear she looks fine.”

      “Then how about you look morning-fresh and pretty.”

      She’d been about to take a bite of the donut but she stopped and her eyes widened.

      “What? You don’t believe me?”

      “I have sisters who look beautiful in the morning. They don’t even get sheet wrinkles on their faces.”

      “You don’t have any sheet wrinkles. Or any wrinkles at all.”

      Her skin was so creamy, he wanted to reach out and touch it. That was the problem. “You do have a few freckles, though. But I like those, too.”

      She blinked.

      He could see he’d definitely surprised her, maybe even embarrassed her a little. He popped the lid off the coffee. “Sugar and cream, just like you like it.” As he handed it to her, he asked, “So how sore are you this morning?”

      “Just a little, really. I think some of it’s from the seat belt.”

      That made sense.

      “Do you feel like looking at a property I found? If you don’t, we can do it another time.”

      “No, I want to go.” She was about to lay down her donut, when he said, “Take your time. I told the real-estate agent I’d buzz her when we were on our way.”

      Jazzy suddenly got a determined look on her face, and Brooks knew he was probably in for trouble. She pointed her donut at him. “Just because you’re tall and strong and seem to know what you want in life, doesn’t mean you can look at me as...fragile.”

      Now where had that come from? Honest to goodness, he just didn’t understand women. “I don’t.”

      She pointed her donut at him again. “You do. Maybe it’s because you take care of animals, but you have some kind of protective streak. It’s the same streak that argued with me about help with changing your tire, and being out in the rain and thinking I had to rest today. You were in the accident, too. You’re not resting.”

      “I didn’t bump my shoulder.”

      She lifted a finger and stroked the air. “Okay, point taken. Still, I’m not some damsel in distress. Got it?”

      She was sitting there cross-legged on the bed—with mussed hair and a just-awakened look. Baser urges nudged him to move closer, to climb into bed with her...

      As if he needed more proof she wasn’t fragile, she said, “And I iced my shoulder yesterday like you told me to. I can take good care of myself.”

      Whether she could or couldn’t remained to be seen, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. After all, she’d left her home and her family and her job to come to Rust Creek Falls to help.

      “You’ve been fighting having somebody look after you all your life, haven’t you?” he asked perceptively.

      She finished the rest of the donut and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “With a family as big as mine, it can’t be helped. Everyone thinks they know best for everyone else. We do take care of each other, but sometimes it just gets very smothering.” She licked one finger then picked up her coffee, took a couple of sips, then asked, “Do I have time for a quick shower? I can be ready in ten minutes.”