The Temptation of Dr. Colton. Karen Whiddon

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СКАЧАТЬ “Is there anything I can do?”

      Eric didn’t even have to think before answering. “Are you available this afternoon?” When she nodded, he continued, “Good. Then take her shopping. She needs everything.”

      Greta’s eyes widened. She loved shopping. Next to training horses, shopping was her favorite activity. “Seriously?”

      “Yes.” Removing a credit card from his wallet, he handed it to her. “Use this. And buy yourself something, too.”

      Her eyes lit up, making him smile. Growing up, Greta had always been a tomboy. She hadn’t gotten into what he thought of as girlie things until she’d gotten engaged.

      At his smile, she shook her head, though she still accepted the credit card. “What’s your budget?”

      “Within reason. There’s no need to take her to fancy department stores. Just get her a few comfortable outfits that fit. A couple of pairs of shoes, pajamas, et cetera. You know better than I do what kind of things a woman needs.”

      Her grin turned wicked, warning him she was about to tease.

      “What about lingerie?” she drawled, drawing the word out so that it almost became four syllables rather than three.

      “Don’t.” He could still shut her down with a glare. Relenting, he softened his tone. “Don’t try to turn this into something it’s not, all right?”

      “Sorry.” Clearly unrepentant, she turned his credit card around in her hands, her hot-pink nail polish gleaming. “When you say to buy myself something nice, are you talking about a T-shirt or an entire outfit?”

      With pretend annoyance, he sighed loudly. “Fine. An outfit. Just don’t be too extravagant, okay?”

      “Yes.” She gave him a fist pump, then quickly tucked his credit card into her purse. “Do you think MW will feel up to shopping this afternoon? I mean, she just got out of the hospital today. I can’t do it tomorrow, because I have to go back to the ranch tonight and say goodbye to everyone. I’m heading home to Oklahoma City in the morning.”

      Hearing “home” and “Oklahoma City” in the same sentence sounded weird, though he didn’t say so.

      “All we can do is ask her. She should, since the only thing wrong with her is a slight concussion. I’m hoping she’ll be feeling much better when she wakes up from her nap. If not, then find out her size and go shopping without her. She has nothing but the clothes she’s wearing, and those apparently came from the hospital lost and found.”

      “That’s awful.” Greta grimaced. “But honestly, she didn’t look in too great of shape. You were practically carrying her to your front door.”

      He felt his face heat. “That’s my fault. She insisted she was fine, but I didn’t want to take a chance.”

      Narrow eyed, she watched him as if waiting for him to say more. Instead, he concentrated on finishing the last of his meal.

      Once every crumb had been devoured, instead of wanting to sit and chat like she normally did, Greta fidgeted.

      “I’d like to go back and check on MW,” she finally confessed. “If I’m going to be back at the ranch by suppertime, we need to get started on shopping.”

      After getting an extra meatball sub in case MW was hungry, he paid the bill and they headed back to his town house. Usually, Greta enjoyed strolling at a leisurely sauntering pace. Today, she moved with an unusual briskness in her step. Shopping, he thought. A lure she couldn’t resist.

      “You know,” Greta mused on the walk back, “I can finally see why you like living downtown so much.”

      He stared. For her entire life, his sister had loudly professed her love of the country to anyone who’d listen. When she’d moved away, everyone in the family had wondered how she’d survive life in Oklahoma City.

      “You do?” he asked. “How’s that?”

      Ducking her head, she gave a little shrug. “I don’t know, but I never thought about how nice it would be to be so convenient and close to everything. Sure, I miss the horses and the land, but this has its benefits, too.”

      He laughed, resisting the urge to say “I told you so.” “You’re preaching to the choir.”

      Back at the town house, the guest room door was still closed. “Let me go talk to her,” Greta said, shaking her head when he moved to follow. “Alone. Woman-to-woman. She might be slightly embarrassed over all this.”

      With a shrug, he acquiesced. “I’ll be out on the patio. I’ve got a few calls to take care of.”

      * * *

      Lying in a soft bed, MW smiled and stretched. Pure luxury. She had decided to use the moniker the kind doctor had given her, and the sheer bliss of the silence instead of constant hospital noises felt like heaven. She only hoped Eric was right about her memory returning soon. She had the constant niggling worry that it might be important she remember something, though she wasn’t sure what exactly.

      After dozing off, she must have fallen into a deep sleep, because she dreamed of cooking. She was working in a kitchen, a huge, modern, professional place, and whipping up some kind of risotto. Lobster risotto. The task involved a lot of stirring and just the right heat, but in this dream she was an old pro at this sort of thing.

      After the risotto finished, she had a beautiful beef Wellington cooking, waiting to be sliced.

      Bemused, she went with the flow. Just as she’d gotten the entire meal together to be served, a firm tapping on her door woke her. Blinking, she yawned and stretched. After a moment of panic as she tried to orient herself, she realized where she was. “Yes?”

      “May I come in?” Eric’s sister, Greta. Which meant they must be back from lunch. Her stomach growled as she remembered the sandwich Greta had promised.

      When MW answered in the affirmative, Greta bounced into the room. “How are you feeling?”

      Blinking, MW sat up, pushing her thick, wavy hair away from her face. “Hungry,” she answered honestly.

      “Oh.” Greta rushed out of the room. She returned a moment later carrying a brown paper sack. “Here you go.”

      The smell of marinara and meatballs made MW’s mouth water. She pushed herself up from the bed, relieved when the room didn’t spin. “This isn’t the kind of thing one eats in bed. Can you point me toward the kitchen?”

      Still smiling, Greta led the way. While Greta watched, MW devoured the sandwich, stopping just short of licking her fingers—it was honestly that good. She washed it down with bottled water.

      “Better now?” Greta asked. She’d been jiggling one leg up and down the entire time MW ate, as if she had something else she needed to do.

      “Yes, thank you.” MW looked around. “Where’s Eric?”

      “Out on the patio.” Greta pointed. “He needed to make some phone calls. I was wondering, do you feel good enough to go shopping?”

      “Shopping?” СКАЧАТЬ