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“I Wouldn’t Look At Me Like That If I Were You, Unless...” Letter to Reader Title Page MARY LYNN BAXTER Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Epilogue Copyright
“I Wouldn’t Look At Me Like That If I Were You, Unless...”
Clark let the rest of his sentence trail off, but the message was clear.
“Sorry,” Sara muttered, ducking her head.
This urban cowboy was toying with her affections big time, and she was wallowing in it like someone starving for love and attention. So why didn’t she call a halt to this madness and insist he take her home? Now.
She licked her lips. “I’d... better go home.”
He moved his head close to her face and whispered, “Not now.”
“When?’ she whispered back, swaying toward him.
He closed his arms around her. “After we make love.”
Dear Reader,
Hey, look us over—our brand-new cover makes Silhouette Desire look more desirable than ever! And between the covers we’re continuing to offer those powerful, passionate and provocative love stories featuring rugged heroes and spirited heroines.
Mary Lynn Baxter returns to Desire and locates our November MAN OF THE MONTH in the Heart of Texas, where a virgin heroine is wary of involvement with a younger man.
More heart-pounding excitement can be found in the next installment of the Desire miniseries TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB with Secret Agent Dad by Metsy Hingle. Undercover agent Blake Hunt loses his memory but gains adorable twin babies—and the heart of lovely widow Josie Walters!
Ever-popular Dixie Browning presents a romance in which opposites attract in The Bride-in-Law. Elizabeth Bevarly offers you A Doctor in Her Stocking, another entertaining story in her miniseries FROM HERE TO MATERNITY. The Daddy Search is Shawna Delacorte’s story of a woman’s search for the man she believes fathered her late sister’s child. And a hero and heroine are in jeopardy on an island paradise in Kathleen Korbel’s Sail Away.
Each and every month, Silhouette Desire offers you six exhilarating journeys into the seductive world of romance. So make a commitment to sensual love and treat yourself to all six!
Enjoy!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
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Heart of Texas
Mary Lynn Baxter
MARY LYNN BAXTER
A native Texan, Mary Lynn Baxter knew instinctively that books would occupy an important part of her life. Always an avid reader, she became a school librarian, then a bookstore owner, before writing her first novel.
Now Mary Lynn Baxter is an award-winning author who has written more than thirty novels, many of which have appeared on the USA Today bestseller list.
One
Sara Ann Wilson.
Her name had rattled around in Clark Garrison’s mind since he’d left Houston and headed for River Oaks. Although he finally spoke the name aloud, he still couldn’t believe the connection.
Why not? he asked himself as his Lexus sports utility vehicle hit the city limits of the small town—so small that it had only one caution light, a gas station and a grocery store of sorts. Some things, least of all small towns, never changed.
He didn’t know anything about the “grown-up” Sara Wilson. All he remembered was that he had dated her younger sister, Alice, and that Alice’s sister and mother hadn’t particularly liked him.
Alice had never said as much, but he knew that Katherine Wilson had thought he wasn’t good enough for Alice, that he was wild and unsupervised, the town’s bad boy. A snarl curled Clark’s lip. If she’d only known about her darling daughter—talk about wild.
As for Sara, he remembered very little, except that she’d been five years older than Alice and him, making her thirty-nine now. He racked his brain trying to recall what she looked like. No specifics came to mind other than she was tall and willowy and had auburn colored hair. She must not have been attractive or he would’ve remembered. A pretty face or a great body rarely got past him.
However, he did recall that Sara had been quiet and on the shy side, that she never seemed to have much to say. Smart. Alice always used to whine that Sara got all the brains in the family.
Not only did she have to be smart, but she had to have money to buy a nursing facility. Hell, as far as he knew she could be a millionaire, but he doubted that. In that postage-stamp-size town, there were no secrets.
It was open season on what went on behind closed doors. If Sara had come into a fortune, he would have heard it through the gossip pipeline. On second thought, maybe he wouldn’t have, since neither one of them lived in River Oaks, hadn’t for years.
After his boss, Lance Norton had given him the folder on the nursing facility, he’d had time only to glance at it, the owners’ names popping up first thing: Don and Opal Merrick and Sara Wilson.
His plan had been to study the file in detail before leaving the office, but that plan had gone awry. He’d had several important calls on other pending deals that demanded his attention. Also he’d had correspondence to dictate to his secretary.
However, as soon as he reached his aunt’s house, he would memorize everything in the file. His guns would definitely be loaded when he started on the hunt.
Business was booming, a fact that gave Clark the urge to pat himself on the back. He’d certainly done his share and more to make the company what it was today. But then, he was amply paid for what he did, not only in money but in stock. He had no kicks coming on that score.
One thing for sure, people would keep growing old, and the need for nursing homes and other special-care facilities would forever be in demand. And he planned to meet that demand, be Johnny-on-the-spot, to buy and sell those facilities in order to turn a profit.
Once he had himself a sizable nest egg, however, he’d always said he would retire. At thirty-four he had that goal already within reach. A grin teased Clark’s mouth as he thought about his cattle ranch in East Texas where he planned to settle.
But he wasn’t near ready to leave the city, to wake up to the sounds of nature instead of sounds of human beings. Maybe when he was too old to do anything except rock on the porch, he’d seriously consider making the move.
Yet there were times, like now, when he wished he were at the ranch helping his foreman Joe Hanover brand cattle, especially with the cool snap they were having, which accounted for his added energy.
However, that energy would be better used on the job he was sent here to do. Acquiring the nursing facility, Quiet Haven, and the surrounding land would be a real coup for Norton and Associates. He was the man who could pull that off.
In fact, this deal had the potential to be the biggest ever. An interstate was due eventually to go through the area which meant the property would be worth millions.
But it was imperative that he move fast while the news of the pending highway was still under wraps.
Now as he whipped his vehicle into his aunt’s drive and killed the engine, he sat for a few minutes and stared at the place where he’d spent his teenage years after his parents’ death in a house fire.
He knew Zelma had done the best she could with an orphaned boy who was headstrong and most times belligerent, who was more interested in kissing the girls than getting his lessons.
Not much had changed on that score, he thought with a cynical smile before reaching in the back seat for his briefcase. He stretched to grab the handle, as the case had shifted during the drive.
“Hellfire!”
That wrenching cry came from his toenails. His back! He’d thrown his back out again.
Clark cursed a blue streak, but it still didn’t change the fact that he was frozen in pain, at least for the time being. But dammit, he had to move. He couldn’t sit in the vehicle indefinitely.
Gritting his teeth and ignoring the sweat that poured profusely from his skin, he opened the door and eased his feet onto the ground. Bent to one side, he crept onto the porch and lowered himself gingerly onto the swing.
Nausea almost got the best of him before he could suck enough air into his lungs to stave it off. But the pain. Oh, the pain. He’d swear someone was poking him with a hot cattle prod.
He was in one helluva mess.
“Whoever you are, mister, you’re on private property.”
Clark smothered another curse, having recognized the stale voice right off. It belonged to Daisy Floyd, Zelma’s neighbor, who was older than dirt, blinder than a bat and the biggest gossip in town. Oh, dear Lord, please deliver him. What had he done to deserve her?
He opened his eyes to find Daisy’s wrinkled face peering at his, her cloudy blue eyes narrowed to slits and her false teeth not quite in place.
“Hello, Daisy,” he managed to say, though it took almost all his existing energy.
“Is that you, sonny boy?” she yelled.
Clark cringed, having forgotten that she was deaf as a post to boot. “Yes, Daisy, it’s me.”
“What’s the matter? You look plum green around the gills.”
Maybe the old busybody wasn’t as blind as he’d thought. Or maybe he looked worse than he thought. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except finding some relief from the sharp, shooting pain.
“It’s my back. I pulled it out of whack.”
“How’d you do that?”
“How doesn’t matter, Daisy,” Clark said through clenched teeth and with as much patience as he could muster, which amounted to very little. He had to get rid of this pesky woman and do something, anything to get relief.
“Have you been to see Zelma up at the nursing home?”
“No, Daisy.”
“Figures. You ain’t never been concerned about her.”
“I just got into town.”
“That’s no excuse. She asks for you all the time, you know?”
He didn’t know, and now that he did, it made him feel worse. Guilt became another source of pain, but only for a second. Hell, he wasn’t about to fall into that old gar hole and let Daisy Floyd jerk his chain as she’d done so many times in his youth.
He wouldn’t be rude to this old lady, but he didn’t intend to take any crap from her, either. He wasn’t a teenager without a home any longer.
“Daisy, thanks for checking on me, but I know you have things to do.”
“No, I don’t,” she said in a voice that sounded like scrunched up parchment.
Clark blew out a breath as another jolt of pain hit him. “Well, I do,” he said, pushing his words through jaws that felt locked.
“What’s wrong with your back, sonny?”
“I told you, I pulled it out. I have a bunch of messed up vertebraes.”
“You need a doctor.”
No joke, he wanted to lash out, but refrained. It wasn’t her fault that he’d injured himself. Why didn’t she go away and leave him alone to suffer in silence? But then, she’d never left them alone. His aunt hadn’t liked her any more than he had.
“Since old Newt retired, I know there’s not a doctor in this one-horse town.”
“You watch your mouth, boy. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with this town, you hear?”
“You’re right, Daisy. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“We do have a doctor.”
Clark’s spirits brightened considerably, only to dim just as quickly. He couldn’t believe the old bat knew what she was talking about. Surely another doctor in his right mind wouldn’t set up practice here. But at this point, he’d settle for a good vet.
“Who and where is this doctor?” Clark asked in a tight voice.
Daisy beckoned with her head. “Down yonder.”
“Where’s down yonder?” His pain and his temper were fast reaching saturation level. He didn’t know how much longer he could remain on an unsteady porch swing or put up with this aggravating old broad.
“On Windom Street. Six-nineteen to be exact.”
“What’s his name?”
“It ain’t no he.”
“You mean the doctor’s a woman?”
“Yep. And she’s a sight better than any doctor where you come from,” Daisy continued, “if you’re not too high and mighty to go to her, that is.”
Clark let that one slide. Besides, this conversation had run its course. Even if he had to crawl back to his vehicle, he was getting rid of this woman.
“Her name’s Dr. Wilson. Sara Wilson.”
Daisy spoke with such pride in her voice that for a second the name didn’t register. Then it hit him with the same vengeance as another burning prod to his back.
“Sara Ann Wilson?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“That’s her,” Daisy responded, pride deepening her voice.
Clark groaned inwardly. Was this really happening? Yes, and his misery wasn’t near over yet. He was accustomed to the best sports doctors in the business working on his chronic back pain, which had been brought on by an old football injury from his college days. He didn’t want this small-town doctor working on him, especially because he planned on having a business relationship with her.
Damn! Fate had definitely kicked him in the gut.
“She’s one of them pull-and-stretch doctors.”
“You mean chiropractor?”
“That’s what I said.”
Despite his condition, Clark almost laughed outright. Talk about a quirky twist of events, this was it. But not a good one, he told himself, trying to decide if he should crawl to his vehicle and attempt to make it back to Lufkin.
He moved slightly only to yelp out loud.
“You’re in sad shape, sonny boy.”
Clark glared at Daisy, then holding onto one arm of the swing, he staggered to his feet. However, that was as far as he could go.
“Want me to help you?” Daisy asked.
Hell, no! “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Put your arm around my shoulders.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Daisy pointed her finger in his face. “You always were one to argue with your elders. For once, just do as you’re told.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Somehow Daisy managed to help him inside the Lexus without further harm to him and without any to her. In fact, she was much stronger than she looked; he’d have to hand her that. She might be old, but she wasn’t dead—far from it.
Minutes later he brought the vehicle to a stop in the doctor’s driveway, then very gingerly made his way to the front door. But not without cost. A new onslaught of sweat drenched him, and he suspected his face was the color of paste.
He practically fell against the doorbell and stayed there. Yet it seemed an eternity before he heard any sound of life. If she wasn’t at home, he didn’t know what he’d do.
The door swung open.
“Yes?” a soft voice asked before her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Clark said in a low, terse voice, “but I’m—”
“In pain. That’s obvious.”
Clark clamped his jaw shut, another pain spasming his back.
“Clark Garrison, right?”
Before he could respond to the fact that she recognized him after all these years, a wave of dizziness swept over him, and he pitched forward into her arms.
Her gasp was the last thing he remembered.
Two
Later Sara couldn’t have said how she remained upright, much less got this six-foot-two lug of a man to the floor without causing further injuries. An added miracle was that she positioned him on his back.
If she hadn’t seen his twisted features, she would have sworn he was drunk, something that wouldn’t have surprised her, considering who he was and what she knew about him.
Although it had been years since she’d seen him, she would have recognized him anywhere. His appearance hadn’t changed all that much except that he had gotten better looking, if that was possible. Alice and every other girl her age had thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. These days Sara suspected that women thought the same thing.
Now, however, was not the time to rehash what a conceited “bad boy” her sister’s ex-boyfriend had been. Her job was to revive him and relieve his pain as quickly as she could.
At this point Sara couldn’t say who was perspiring the most, him or her. Geez, she’d had some memorable moments in her tenure as a chiropractor, but this one would go down in the history books as the most bizarre to date.
A smile unwittingly tugged at her lips. Wasn’t it supposed to be every woman’s secret dream to have a gorgeous man fall at her feet? While she had no such dream, she could appreciate the moment.
“Clark, Clark,” she said, “can you hear me?”
He grunted, then nodded.
Relief surged through her. “Welcome back.”
“Yeah, right.”
Apparently he hadn’t lost total consciousness which was good and bad. His tolerance for pain, it seemed, was quite low, a weakness found in many of her male patients. “Can you tell me, or better yet, pinpoint where you hurt the most?”
There were a million other questions she would’ve liked to ask, such as how had he known who she was and where she lived. But those questions were easily answered. In a town the size of River Oaks, nothing was sacred.
He seemed comfortable, sprawled on the carpet that covered her hardwood floor. At least he was no longer moaning, and a semblance of color had returned to his face.
“The cattle prod’s right here.” Clark rolled onto his stomach, grimacing, and placed his hand in the middle of his lower back.
His analogy brought another smile to Sara’s lips, although she knew exactly what he was saying. In order to understand back pain, one had to have experienced it. She certainly had. That was one of the reasons she had chosen this profession.
“Let’s see if we can’t get rid of that prod,” she said, “but I’m making no promises. This situation is far from ideal, but then, I don’t have to tell you that.”
“Dammit, lady, just do what you gotta do, okay?”
“I have a table in my spare bedroom. You think you could make it in there?”
“Do I have to?”
Sara picked up on his shallow breathing at the same time she noticed the muscles in his jaw were bunched. “No. I think I can make an adjustment right here and work the kink out. A hard surface is what we need, and the floor certainly is that.”
“Go for it.” He cursed. “Otherwise, I’m not sure I’m going to live through this.”
Sara hid a smile. “Oh, I suspect you’ll live. I’m good at what I do.”
“Let us pray.”
“Your shirt has to come off,” Sara said calmly but crisply, ignoring his ill humor and crankiness.
He struggled onto his elbows. Between the two of them, the shirt was soon off and tossed aside. Once he was again flat on his stomach with head to one side, she knelt and placed her hands on his upper back, then began a slow, deliberate descent down toward his lower back, touching, pressing in what she knew were just the right spots.
He moaned.
“Am I hurting you?”
“God, no,” he rasped. “Please don’t stop. Your hands feel like magic.”
Sara had had her hands on numerous bodies, most of them male due to the numerous ranching and farming jobs around River Oaks. Never once had she experienced any stimulation whatsoever. Until now. Suddenly, she was light-headed, and her mouth was dry as her hands massaged his muscles.
Maybe it was because she knew him from back when, knew that he had been in her house, knew that he had dated Alice, knew that he had possibly been intimate with her sister.
The latter thought rocked her to the core. So what if he’d fooled around with her sister? It was nothing to her. It hadn’t been then and it sure wasn’t now.
Clark moaned again as her hands touched the right spot directly above his waistline. Sara watched as the hard, tanned muscles rippled and quivered underneath her fingers. What a great body, she thought, feeling her mind jump back on that runaway train headed down that forbidden track.
The first time Clark Garrison walked into their old rambling house on Vine Street, which had long since been sold, her breath had almost stopped. She would never forget that moment. His confident swagger and devilish smile had brightened their dreary kitchen like a dose of unfiltered sunlight.
She had remembered thinking, If only he was older and she was prettier, maybe he would’ve stared at her with those hungry eyes instead of her sister.
Stop it! Sara chided herself, feeling her face flame and hearing him yelp. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You hit the place.” His words came out a grunt, and she noticed new patches of sweat on the exposed side of his face.
“I want you to roll over. Your knee needs to come up to your waist,” Sara told him, her tone all business now. “The pain will be severe at first, then it’ll taper off.”
“I know,” he ground out. “That’s what my doctor does at home.”
Once she had the knee where she wanted it, cupped into his waist, and her hands back on his flesh, she felt the knotted muscles give way.
“Ahhh,” he moaned.
“Better?”
Clark blew out a long breath. “You bet.”
“Think you can sit up?”
“I know I can.”
Sara stood. “Once you’re upright, we’ll head for the sofa. I want to put some heat on that area.”
It wasn’t near the ordeal Sara suspected it would be, though again he was a big man. Still, he was agile and not at all cumbersome on his feet. That was what had made him an all-state athlete in school.
Within seconds after he was up, Clark was sitting on the couch with his head back and his eyes closed.
“Are you all right?” Sara asked, scrutinizing him closely.
His eyes popped open, and he squinted up at her. “You should know.”
“In that case, you’re welcome.”
“Patting yourself on the back, huh?”
“Self congratulations aren’t quite in order,” she finally said. “You still have to get up and walk out of here before I can do that.”
That mocking smile she also remembered softened his heretofore tense lips. Talk about sex appeal—he seemed to ooze it, a scar under his right eye, another trophy from his football days, heightening that appeal.
She couldn’t say that he was handsome. He wasn’t. His features were too irregular, yet somehow they worked, especially in conjunction with his unkempt sandy-colored hair, great physique, tanned skin and brilliant blue eyes. They were all undeniable pluses. With those, a man’s face didn’t have to be perfect.
Suddenly Sara felt self-conscious, thinking how awful she must look, only to jerk herself back in hand. It didn’t matter how she looked. He was a onetime patient—nothing more, nothing less. “Hold still while I get the heating pad.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m afraid to move.”
“Don’t be.” Sara’s lips twitched. “We can do it all over again, you know.”
“I’ll pass,” he said tightly.
She turned and walked toward her makeshift office. When she reached the room, her heart was beating far faster than it should have been. Damn!
Not bad, not bad at all, Clark thought as he watched Sara make her way out of the room, at least not from the back. If nothing else, her derriere was intriguing, moving in perfect rhythm with her every step. Yet she was uptight, except when she’d had her hands on him, he corrected himself.
He jerked his gaze off her and let a few expletives fly. What the hell was wrong with him? He knew, though he hated to admit it. There was touching and there was touching.
His insides vibrated just thinking about the sensations that had run rampant through his body everywhere she touched. He hadn’t been lying, no siree, when he’d said she had magic fingers.
He wondered what they would feel like on another part of his body. He swore, his face tightening as if he had lockjaw. Thinking of her in terms of sex was the last thing he needed. It was bad enough that he’d had to come to her for treatment, in light of why he was in town.
On the other hand, he couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Because of who she was, she had saved him from having either to return to Houston or go to the hospital in Lufkin. Once she put the heat to his back, he was convinced he’d be as good as new. Oh, he’d be sore for a few days, unable to brand any cattle, but he could live without that.
Besides, he hadn’t come to town to play with his cows. He’d come to land a coup that would make him rich. He wasn’t about to let anything mess that up, certainly not his libido.
Yet when Sara walked back into the room, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. What galled him was the fact that she wasn’t even conventionally pretty.
She wasn’t homely, either.
Because her face was devoid of makeup, he could see her great bone structure—high cheekbones and wide-set green eyes. Her skin was incredible, too—a milky white that appeared as smooth as a baby’s butt.
Her hair was an odd color, somewhere between auburn and light chocolate, which added to her allure. She wore it in a short, straight style that accented her long neck.
But it was her body that was the attention grabber. Although extremely slender and tall, she had more than ample breasts, breasts that even her loose-fitting caftan couldn’t hide. He wished he could see her waist; he’d bet his hands would fit around it.
Still, she wasn’t the type of woman he had ever been attracted to. So why the sudden fixation with her? he asked himself, but got no answer.
Feeling desperate to elevate his thoughts to the impersonal level, Clark blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “How much do I owe you?”
She stiffened visibly. “Nothing at the moment. I suggest you come for another treatment, but in my office.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You really think that’s necessary?”
“Absolutely.” She paused, giving him a cool, pointed look. “Unless you want your back to go out again.”
“You know better than that,” he muttered crossly. But he dreaded another session because her magic hands messed with his mind.
“Wise man.”
“Whatever the doctor says.”
Her professional facade didn’t slip one iota. “Since that’s settled, let’s get this heating pad behind you so it can get to work.”
She plugged it in near where he was sitting, then placed it behind his back. Although she had been close to him earlier, he’d been in too much pain to notice how fresh and sweet she smelled. Now her scent hit him in the face like a slap. He sucked in his breath and held it.
She stepped back and peered down at him. “Are you in pain again?”
“Uh, no,” he said, turning away, unable to meet her eyes, especially with his manhood rallying around his thoughts.
“Would you care for coffee or something else to drink?” Her tone was polite but emotionless.
“Uh, no, thanks.”
Sara sat in the chair adjacent to him, and for a moment an uneasy silence fell between them. It was one of the few times he had ever been at a loss for words. But then, he’d never been in quite such a precarious situation.
He tried to concentrate on her homey but tastefully decorated home while the heat seeped into his back, but he couldn’t. He was too conscious of her.
“Do you mind me asking what brings you back to River Oaks?”
“My ranch,” he said off the top of his head, then kicked himself mentally. Why the hell didn’t he tell her the truth?
She gave him a disapproving look, which raised his ire and his curiosity.
“I was hoping you’d come to see about your aunt.”
That flat statement tightened his gut, as well as the noose around his neck. “That, too, of course.”
“She’s a sweetheart, you know? I see her almost every day when I visit my mother, who’s also in the nursing home.”
“I appreciate that a lot.” Tell her, dammit. But the words still wouldn’t come. They stuck in his throat.
“She would appreciate seeing you a lot more.”
While her criticism was wrapped in soft words, he felt the sting nonetheless, a feeling he didn’t like. “Look, I’ve intruded enough on your time. It’s late, and I know you have to work tomorrow.”
“That I do.”
Blessedly, he got to his feet without mishap. “Thanks again for everything. I feel like a heel for—”
Sara held up her hand, stopping his flow of words. “Forget it. You’re not the first to appear on my doorstep at an ungodly hour, nor will you be the last.”
“At least you’re a good sport about it.”
She shrugged. “I consider that part of my job.”
He stared at her a long moment, trying to figure out what was really going on behind those lovely green eyes. Though she met his gaze, he learned nothing. The woman was one cool cookie who either had his number or didn’t didn’t give a damn. Maybe she disliked men in general, or just him in specific.
If the latter was the case, then he was in deep trouble. Somehow he had to figure out a way to do some damage control. But before he could say anything else, she had reached the door and had it open.
“Good night, Clark Garrison. It was nice seeing you again.”
He didn’t believe that for a second. “Same here, Dr. Wilson,” he said, walking out the door.
Once outside he cursed a blue streak.
The free excerpt has ended.
