The Doctor Wore Spurs. Leanne Banks

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СКАЧАТЬ That’s why she’s in demand. You wouldn’t believe what she did for the cancer treatment center in Minneapolis,” Clarence, the hospital administrator, said wistfully.

      “Then get her,” Tyler said simply.

      Clarence threw him a long-suffering glance. “You surgeons don’t understand anything about the business of health care.”

      “Good thing, too,” Tyler said with a grin. “We’d have a lot more dead people, if surgeons were thinking about business instead of surgery.” He looked at Jill again. “If she’s the one we need to beef up our children’s treatment center, then get her.”

      “There might be a few obstacles to that. One, she probably costs too much. Two, she’s probably already booked. Three, we might be too small.”

      “Sounds like a bunch of mights and maybes. What’s the harm in asking?”

      “I’ve requested information about her before,” Clarence said a shade defensively. “I was told she doesn’t do children’s projects.”

      That stopped Tyler. He glanced at Clarence. “Really?”

      “Yes,” Clarence said, pulling slightly on his collar.

      “Well, maybe she needs a new challenge,” Tyler said.

      “You’re not going to approach her,” Clarence said.

      “Sure I am. Isn’t that why we’re at this convention? To gain some visibility for the new children’s cardiac wing.”

      “Yes, but—”

      Tyler shrugged. “You said she’s the one we need. So, I’ll go get her.”

      The man with the cowboy hat waited patiently behind her former client, Mr. Waldron. Jill tried not to look at him, but it was difficult. He was taller than most men in the room, unabashedly Western, and, she concluded after a few moments passed, determined. He was a little too handsome for his own good, she thought. Just the way he stood, he exuded a gut-level kind of confidence most people never experienced. His searching gaze generated an odd ripple inside her.

      Her former client must have felt the man’s presence because he glanced around quizzically.

      The man immediately stepped forward. “Hello, I’m Dr. Tyler Logan from Fort Worth General Hospital. Pleased to meet you.”

      “Bill Waldron of Cincinnati University Hospital. This is—”

      “Jill Hershey, public relations sorceress,” Dr. Logan finished with enigmatic charm. He extended his hand and met her gaze with the direct impact of a two-by-four. “We need you.”

      Jill blinked. Although her career success had grown quickly over the past three years, she wasn’t accustomed to this approach. Noticing the strength and size of his hand, she managed a smile. “I’m flattered,” she said. “I think.”

      Mr. Waldron excused himself, and Jill retrieved her hand. “I wouldn’t call myself a sorceress.”

      “You don’t have to. You have others who do it for you.”

      She felt a surge of curiosity. She wondered what was behind his cowboy charm. “Dr. Logan,” she began.

      “Call me Tyler,” he said.

      Surprise seeped through her. Many of the doctors she’d met were very attached to their titles. “Tyler, what is your specialty?”

      “Pediatric cardiology. Surgery.”

      Jill’s stomach clenched. It took a moment to catch her breath, but with effort she produced a smile. “That’s an important field, but I must tell you I haven’t done much work with children’s projects.”

      “Why not?”

      His question took her off guard. “I always felt I was more effective with other specialties.”

      “You don’t like kids?”

      “No!” she immediately denied, and shook her head. “I… I do like children.” She shrugged, wanting to get away from this impertinent man who had unknowingly stabbed her in her most vulnerable area. “I told you I have always felt I was more effective with other specialties. Not only that,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound so tight with tension, “my latest projects have been with larger hospitals.”

      “You wouldn’t want to get in a rut,” Tyler said.

      Jill’s head began to pound. “A rut?” she repeated.

      He nodded. “You look like a woman who needs a new challenge to keep you happy.”

      She didn’t know what irritated her more, the fact that he was making a huge assumption or the fact that it was right. “Dr. Logan—”

      “Tyler,” he corrected, his blue eyes glinting with masculine humor.

      She stifled a sigh. “Tyler, I have to be honest. I usually accept assignments recommended by the president of my company. If you’re interested in our services, you can contact Jordan Grant. Our telephone and fax numbers are in the conference kit. It was nice meeting you.”

      He nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if he saw more than she wanted him to see. Jill turned away, both disturbed and relieved.

      “I dare you,” she heard from behind her. His words brought her back around.

      “Pardon?”

      “I dare you to come to Fort Worth General and make a lot of children’s lives longer and better. You’ve got what it takes to do it.” He looked her directly in the eye, and she felt the heat and power of his passion. “I dare you.”

      One

      Jill could hold her own. She’d had years of practice, and she rarely played the fool. She was no coward, and she knew how to protect herself. The first week after Dr. Tyler Logan had audaciously delivered his challenge, she’d dismissed him and his hospital. She refused to be manipulated.

      As much as she dismissed him, however, he kept popping up. He’d had no idea of the enormity of his dare. He’d had no idea that he was presenting her with the opportunity to conquer or be conquered by her greatest, most secret pain.

      And that was why she was currently organizing her temporary office at Fort Worth General Hospital. She glanced out her window at “Cowtown’s” downtown area. A few blocks away stood the old stockyards, a statue of the legendary cowboy William Pickett, and Billy Bob’s bar, the largest saloon in Texas. Wherever Jill’s projects took her, she’d learned her job went much easier if she understood the natives. That meant she was going to have to be a temporary cowgirl. That might be challenging, considering she didn’t eat beef.

      “It’s just temporary,” she whispered, trying to settle her nervous stomach. “Temporary insanity.” During her stay in Fort Worth, this office would be her safe haven, the place where she could close the door and take deep breaths, her island of peace and creativity. Her sanctuary.

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