LITMIR.BIZ

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his celibacy at the moment. She simply was not thinking at all.

      He inched to his left. Jamie followed. He could go no farther without exiting the car. It seemed this predicament had forced him between a rock and a hard door.

      Staring straight ahead, Ben commanded his desires to remain at bay. He attempted to concentrate on driving. Concentrate on getting her to safety. Concentrate on anything but Jamie Morris’s face in his lap.

      On the outskirts of town, where city dwellings and pristine lawns gave way to flat desert-like terrain, every curve of the rural road brought Jamie’s face closer to dangerous territory—and Ben’s tenuous control closer to snapping. He silently scolded himself several times. Scolded his weakness for this woman when he should be thinking of her well-being, not his stubborn male urges.

      The white pipe-fence gates to the Flying Longhorn Ranch, his Texas home, could not have welcomed him any sooner. Fortunately, Justin Webb’s sports car was parked in the drive, its owner standing on the porch leaning back against the Austin-stone facade, awaiting their arrival.

      Gently moving Jamie’s head aside, Ben slipped out and rounded the car to lift her into his arms. He strode quickly to where Webb was standing.

      Once he was on the porch, Justin told him, “Take her inside.”

      Ben complied, carrying her into his guest room with Justin close on his heels. Inside the room, he carefully laid Jamie on the silk brocade spread covering the bed.

      Justin pushed past Ben and perched on the edge of the mattress. Raising Jamie’s blouse, he unsnapped her jeans and touched her abdomen in several places. “Her belly’s still soft.”

      Ben imagined it was. Soft as the feather mattress beneath her. “Is that favorable?”

      “Yeah. She’s not flinching. No apparent tenderness.”

      Jamie tried to brush Webb’s hands away and mumbled, “Leave me alone. I’m tired.”

      “I’ve got to do this, Jamie. Just hang on.” Justin continued kneading her belly, examining her ribcage. He regarded Ben over one shoulder. “Help me get these jeans off. I want to check her limbs for possible broken bones.”

      Not normally reluctant to undress a woman, Ben found his own hesitation surprising, to say the least. “She stood after the accident. I believe that would indicate nothing is broken.”

      “That was adrenaline working,” Justin said. “She might have some swelling that could say otherwise. If so, we’ll need to take her to the hospital.”

      Ben felt as though invisible hands prevented him from moving forward. “I shall summon my housekeeper to assist you.”

      Justin looked back with a frown. “Come on, Ben. I know you’ve seen half-naked women before. And I know you were guilty of getting them that way.”

      Ben was without a response. His friend did not realize that, under different circumstances, undressing Jamie Morris would give him much pleasure. But he must resist the tempting thoughts. Now and in the future. If he desired to keep her safe, he could not allow the distraction.

      While Justin slipped the denim down her narrow hips, Ben forced himself forward to remove her running shoes and tugged the jeans away from her slim legs. Immediately he averted his gaze from the thin scrap of white lace covering her womanly secrets. He cursed the carnal urges trying to surface. Cursed his sudden weakness where this woman was concerned.

      Stepping away from the bed, Ben busied himself with folding the jeans in order not to stare at Jamie’s lush body. After what she had unknowingly done to him in the car, the last thing he needed was to view Jamie Morris naked as a babe.

      “No broken bones, as far as I can tell,” Justin said. “She doesn’t appear to be in any pain when I touch her. She does have an ugly bruise starting to surface above her hip.”

      “My fault, I imagine,” Ben said, keeping his eyes focused on a painting across the room as he laid the jeans on a nearby chair. “I pushed her harder than I’d intended.”

      “You saved her life, Ben. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

      Ben finally turned his attention back to the bed, grateful the physician had covered Jamie’s lower body with the spread.

      Justin rummaged through the black bag he had brought with him and removed a stethoscope. He slipped it beneath the woman’s blouse to listen to her heart. He then returned to the bag and drew out a small light, opening one of Jamie’s eyelids, then the other, and shone the thin ray into each eye.

      “Hey, are you in there, kiddo?” he asked.

      Jamie opened her eyes, recognition dawning in their green depths. “Dr. Webb?”

      “Yeah. The one and only. Can you tell me where you hurt?”

      “My head hurts like a son of a gun,” she muttered.

      Justin raised her head up and examined her skull. “A nasty knot you got there.”

      “I’m just so sleepy.” Jamie yawned and closed her eyes again.

      Justin rose from the bed and faced Ben. “Her pupils are reactive, so she probably just has a slight concussion. You can let her sleep, but be sure to wake her periodically. Call me if she has any other symptoms, more pain, severe vomiting, or if you can’t get her to wake up. I’m going to see what I can find out about Klimt.”

      Ben fought down the sudden panic. “You wish me to remain with her? Alone?”

      Justin gave him a good-natured slap on the back. “Yeah. You can do it. I’m only a call away. If you even suspect her condition has worsened, then dial 911. The paramedics will be here in no time. But I’d bet she’ll just sleep it off.”

      Ben respected his fellow Texas Cattleman’s Club member and would prefer not to insult him. However, he still had questions. “Do you know this for certain? Forgive me, but you are a doctor who fixes imperfections.”

      “Believe me, Ben, before I took up plastic surgery and went into private practice, I saw my share of all kinds of trauma overseas. You have to learn to assess injuries on a moment’s notice. Jamie will be fine. She’s a tough kid. She’s been through a lot lately. Probably exhausted on top of everything else.”

      Ben felt somewhat reassured. “Yes, I believe you are right. She stays up very late into the night, I have noticed.”

      Justin sent him a lecherous grin. “You’ve been taking this protection stuff pretty seriously, haven’t you?”

      Stiffening, Ben raised his chin, hoping to hide his guilt. “I was charged with protecting Miss Morris. I have been watching her, as you and the club members agreed I should.” He would not admit that it had been his pleasure.

      “Well, just keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll check back now and then throughout the evening.”

      As soon as Ben and Justin said their goodbyes, Ben quickly made his way into the kitchen to summon Alima. The housekeeper stood at the stove wearing stereo headphones, a habit she had recently adopted during most of her domestic activities. He doubted she even realized they had a guest.

      Ben allowed her this concession, knowing it was futile to argue that she might miss the doorbell or phone if she could not hear due to the country-and-western music blaring through the portable CD player. At times he cursed buying her the gift for her sixtieth birthday. But he would do anything for her. She had been with him since his birth, and she was his only connection in America to his culture. He could not function without her care. Not unless he chose to have dinner at Claire’s Bistro every day, or live in squalor.

      Perhaps that was why he hadn’t concerned himself with finding a wife. Alima provided for all his needs—except one. His thoughts turned to Jamie Morris and how she had reminded him that those needs had been neglected in recent months.

      Wanting to get back to Jamie, Ben tapped his housekeeper’s plump shoulder.

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