Hot-Shot Doc Comes to Town. Susan Carlisle

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СКАЧАТЬ filled her cheeks. It had been a long time since a man had noticed her and made his appreciation so obvious. She and Jim had been an item since childhood, leaving little room for another man to show interest. The men in Benton had never approached her in anything other than friendship since Jim had been gone. In truth, she’d not given them a chance. She couldn’t take the chance of losing someone she loved again.

      Shelby hurried up the stairs. Taylor was here to help in the clinic and that was all. On the landing she opened the door to the apartment.

      “You don’t lock up?”

      Turning round, she found Taylor too close for comfort. Standing on the small landing that made her a step higher than he, Shelby was almost at eye level with him.

      From there she could see the tiny laugh lines that radiated out from the corners of his eyes. Apparently he wasn’t always the hypercritical person his body language indicated he was. His eyes were brown with small flakes of gold.

      The twist of the corner of his mouth brought her attention to his firm, full lips. She blinked.

      “Doesn’t your husband tell you to lock the doors?” he asked.

      “I’m a widow.”

      “I’m sorry.” He sounded like he meant it.

      “I am too.” She turned away from the sincerity in his eyes. The sadness that usually accompanied thoughts of Jim was suddenly not as sharp.

      Shelby hadn’t missed the look of displeasure on Taylor’s face when he had entered the clinic or when he’d seen the working conditions. She’d also not missed the expression of disgust when he’d realized she drove an old truck. His knuckles had turned white on his steering-wheel when he’d pulled onto her street, as if he didn’t like her neighborhood. Did he think that living here was beneath him? Or was it that she rubbed him the wrong way?

      “How does your family feel about you being away from home?” she asked.

      “No family.” He made it sound like he liked it that way.

      Entering the one-room apartment, Shelby moved to one side to prevent any physical contact. He made her feel nervous and she was never nervous around men. After dropping his bag on the floor, he looked around the place.

      Shelby’s gaze followed his. A full bed with her grandmother’s hand-quilted blanket dominated the room. There was a small refrigerator-stove combo in one corner. A two-seater table with chairs sat in front of the double window that looked out onto the back of her house. A braided rug, sofa and chair finished off the living area. A bathroom took up the other corner. She was rather pleased with her decorating efforts. It made a cute place for one person to stay.

      “I think you will be comfortable here,” she said with a smile full of pride.

      He didn’t agree or disagree. Instead he picked up his bag, carried it to the bed and began unzipping it.

      “Not up to your usual standards, I’m sure,” she mumbled.

      Taylor pulled clothing out of his bag, his back to her. “You don’t know me well enough to know my standards. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a much-needed shower and go to bed. I’ve been up almost twenty-four hours.”

      “What? Why?”

      “Because I had to handle an emergency last night. A boy had been hit by a car. I didn’t get out of the hospital until ten this morning and then I had to drive straight here or Uncle Gene would’ve been unhappy.”

      So that’s why he’d been late. Why hadn’t she noticed he wasn’t just tired, he was exhausted? As a physician trained to observe the human condition she should’ve known. Had she completely missed it because of her strange reaction to his nearness?

      Now she felt small and petty. Why hadn’t he said something? She could’ve given him directions here. The clinic had been running with just her for three years and she could’ve certainly made it through another afternoon. Instead, Taylor had gone to work, never giving the patients or her any indication he was drained. His perfect bedside manner had never faltered. For that, he’d earned her admiration.

      Taylor began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

      Shelby headed for the door but turned back when she reached it. “One more thing about the clinic …” Her gaze went to where his hands worked the buttons open.

      “Yeah?”

      His shirt parted, revealing a broad chest lightly covered with dark hair. Her gaze rose to meet his. One of his dark brows rose quizzically.

      Heaven help her, she’d been caught staring. Shelby drew in a quick breath. “Uh, do you mind keeping your clothes on until I’m gone?”

      “Actually, I do. Can’t whatever you have to say wait?”

      Was she losing her mind? She didn’t stand around in half-naked strangers’ rooms. Holding her ground, she gave him her best piercing look. “No. I need to make a few things clear before tomorrow.”

      “Go ahead. I guess I can’t stop you,” he said as he shrugged out of his shirt and let it drop to the floor.

      “Although I appreciate your help today, it needs to be clear to the patients that I’m in charge. I make the decisions. I determine what the patients require. I will not have you changing routines I’ve worked hard to implement. Is that clear?”

      “So, to make it short and sweet, you’re the boss.”

      Put that way, he made her sound like a shrew. That didn’t sit well. “It’s just that—”

      He put up a hand, halting her words. “I’ve got it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some shut-eye.”

      Departing, she carried the feeling she’d been the one reprimanded. “The clinic opens at eight sharp,” she said over her shoulder.

      “I’ll be there.”

      Taylor woke to threads of early morning sunshine through the window. He’d slept well, whether from exhaustion or because this simple room had offered him a good mattress he didn’t know.

      Shelby had been right. He didn’t think much of the apartment but on second look it did have a rather homey feel. It was a great deal nicer than what he’d had growing up. To even have a bed to himself would’ve been considered high living.

      He glanced at the electric clock on the bedside table. It said seven twenty-eight. The woman would have his hide if he didn’t turn up on time this morning. He couldn’t take a chance that she’d inform her Uncle Gene about his tardiness. More time he couldn’t do.

      Ten minutes later, freshly shaven and dressed in khakis, a knit shirt and loafers, he opened the door and almost stepped in the tray sitting on the stoop. There he found a Thermos of coffee, toast and a boiled egg. He smiled. Maybe the caustic doctor was feeling a little guilty about how she’d treated him when he’d been late. Apparently she wasn’t all vinegar.

      He checked the time. If he didn’t get a move on she might chew him out again. Grabbing the Thermos and egg, he closed the door behind him and hurried down the stairs. Knocking on the back СКАЧАТЬ