Dylan's Last Dare. Patricia Thayer

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      “That’s because everyone is asleep,” he argued. “That’s what I want to be.”

      “You can sleep in later after we get you on a routine.”

      “When hell freezes over,” he said and nodded toward the door. “Now, would you mind leaving?”

      She stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “As a matter of fact, I would mind. I promised your brother that I’d give this job a chance—that I wouldn’t let your rude attitude run me off. So you’ll have to do better than shout at me. I grew up with three brothers. I’ve been yelled at by the best.”

      Dylan’s fists clenched. He loved Wyatt but he was getting pretty tired of his interference. “Then I’ll pay you for the month and fire you.”

      She shook her head. “You can’t do that. I took this job and I made a promise. Now, you’ve already spent too much time in that chair without working your muscles. It’s going to be even harder to get you up and walking—but not impossible.”

      “You don’t seem to understand, Ms. Farren.”

      “Brenna,” she corrected.

      He sighed. “Brenna. I can’t get back on my feet. I’m going to be in this chair for the rest of my life.”

      Brenna could see the fear in his eyes and heard it in his voice. She had a strange impulse to reach out and touch him, to give him comfort. She pulled back. “How do you know that, Dylan? I’ve conferred with your physician, and he said you haven’t given therapy enough of a chance.”

      “You discussed my case?”

      “With Dr. Morris,” she said bravely. “We’ve gone over your X rays and I talked with Dr. Ratner, the surgeon in California who did the reconstruction. He did a remarkable job.”

      “Then why the hell aren’t I walking?”

      “Because the damage was severe. Besides a rod put in to repair your tibia, pins were added to the talus bone.”

      “Speak English.”

      “All right. Your left calf and ankle were crushed by a two-thousand-pound bull. Not only the bones, but there was some muscle and nerve damage. It’s important you do therapy to help with circulation and to strengthen the muscles. I also know the bull’s horn punctured your abdomen and you sustained rib damage, but you healed nicely. So that pain shouldn’t stop you.”

      “Well, I’m stopping you,” he argued. “I’ve heard it all before by several specialists. Bottom line is they couldn’t guarantee that I could go back to riding, or even that I’ll walk again. Okay, okay, I should consider myself lucky to be alive. But lady, I don’t call this living. And I’m not going to bust my butt for nothing—not if I can’t be like before.” He turned his chair around and returned to his bedroom.

      Brenna wanted to call him back, but Dylan clearly wasn’t ready to hear anything she had to say. Not now. It was her job to get him to want to give therapy a chance. How was she going to challenge this man? Somehow she had to make him want to fight to walk again.

      There was a quiet knock on the door and Wyatt Gentry peeked his head in. He smiled and, although the two men weren’t identical twins, she could see the close resemblance.

      Wyatt walked in. “Should I ask how things are going?”

      “Not bad,” she lied. “Your brother hasn’t thrown anything at me.”

      “Give him time.” Wyatt grew serious. “Brenna, if you’ve changed your mind and think this job is too much, I’ll understand.”

      Oh no, she couldn’t lose it before she got a chance. She shook her head. “Trust me, I can handle anything that Dylan dishes out. I just have to figure out a way to make him want to try therapy.”

      “Well, I hope you make it. Oh, by the way, the parallel bars are being delivered within the hour. Just tell me what you want removed from the room.”

      “We can do without the bookshelves, the recliner chair and coffee table. If it’s not too much trouble. That will give us room for the weight bench and bars.”

      “This is the easy part,” he assured her. “Dealing with Dylan’s temper is the difficult task. Maybe I should be here when he sees what’s going on.”

      “No. That’s why you hired me. I have to be the one he communicates with. Your brother is used to getting what he wants. He has to learn that if he wants to walk again, he has to work at it.”

      Wyatt grinned. “I’m beginning to believe you can do it. It’s been a long time since Dylan hasn’t been able to sweet-talk a woman into getting his way.”

      Brenna tensed. The man was hard to resist, but not for her. Right. She knew if Dylan Gentry wanted to, he could make her forget her own name. She just had to keep that fact from him. “You don’t have to worry about me being charmed by your brother. I’m his therapist…that’s all.” It would be a long time before she would allow herself to be interested in any man, much less a danger-loving man like Dylan Gentry.

      By 11:00 a.m. the furniture had been removed and the parallel bars and weight bench had been set up in the living area, leaving just enough space for the TV and sofa. Brenna decided that her patient wasn’t going to have enough energy left after therapy to do anything else but watch TV.

      Speaking of her patient, she hadn’t seen Dylan since earlier in the morning. Well, it was time he came out of hiding. She went to his bedroom door and knocked.

      There was only silence and she knocked again. “Dylan,” she called.

      No answer.

      “Dylan? I’m fixing some lunch. Is there anything special you want?” Her job description also included making meals and some light housework. She didn’t mind, since she was living here, too.

      No answer.

      “Dylan?” She knew he had to be hungry, because he hadn’t had breakfast. “Are you all right?” She turned the knob and pushed open the door to find a large bed with Dylan Gentry sprawled across the center. A colorful quilt covered part of his body, but his glorious chest was bare. No red-blooded woman would deny that the man was beautifully built.

      Surprised at the sudden rush of feelings, she refocused her thoughts and moved to the bed. He was her patient. That was all. She called his name again. When that didn’t wake him, she touched his foot. “Dylan, you need to get up.”

      The man opened his eyes, revealing mesmerizing silver-blue pools that immediately locked on her. A hint of a smile creased his sensual mouth.

      “Well, hello, darlin’.” He stretched his arms over his head, lazily. “I was just having this great dream, but you’re so much better.”

      The husky tone of his voice sent a warm shiver though Brenna as she saw the true side of the charming bull rider that all the ladies drooled over. Well, she didn’t have the time or the desire.

      Brenna pushed away from the doorjamb and moved to the bed. “Well, you’re not dreaming now,” she said. “It’s reality time.”

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