LITMIR.BIZ

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and pleased by the compliment, and he felt something go hinky in him again. He felt himself wanting to kiss her one more time.

      “Let’s go,” he said quickly. “Are you done communing with the laundry chute?”

      She stepped through the door after him and shut it smartly behind her. “In my own fashion. I might mention that at least I didn’t destroy my knuckles in the process.”

      Sam looked down at his right hand. She was right. He was bleeding. He felt marginally like an idiot until they took four or five strides down the hall. Then he was distracted by the nervous shift of her shoulders. She hesitated and looked back the way they’d come.

      “What?” he asked.

      She shook her head. “Nothing.”

      He walked with her to the employees’ parking area. He wasn’t surprised when she stopped beside a car that was small, practical and ugly. It was exactly what he would have expected her to drive—a week ago. That comforted him a little until he got to his Maserati and looked back.

      Then he watched her through her windshield. She started playing with that damned zipper again, the one on the front of her scrubs top. She tugged it down a little. He got a peek of skin—he knew it was as smooth and pale as alabaster—then she fanned herself from the heat with her hand. She reached to the passenger seat and a second later she pushed dark, wraparound sunglasses onto her face. When she turned out of the lot, the wind tickled her hair through the open windows.

      It was over, damn it. Over. A one-time thing. But suddenly Sam had to inhale hard just to breathe.

      The woman tailed them as far as the lobby, her anger pushing hot and steady at the inside of her skull.

      It had been a bit of luck, finding them together. Otherwise, she would never have known that they were still cozy. Up until now, she’d just been keeping an eye on him. He was her answer, her way out, the clever doctor who collected women like trophies, then tossed them aside.

      He was the one who would give her everything she’d ever wanted. Except now…now he’d come out of that storage room with the breathless little blonde. It was a wrinkle and it infuriated the woman. It caught her off guard and was going to force her to adjust her plans.

      She waited until they turned out of the corridor, then she hurried after them. She’d had a bad moment when the bitch looked back over her shoulder as though knowing she was being watched, and that made her more cautious. She finally landed in the lobby at the same time they pushed through the outside doors.

      She hurried to the glass and watched him standing there, staring after the sweet, wimpy nurse.

      She’d have to fix this, she thought. This time she wasn’t going to lose.

      Three

      Normally Cait used the drive home from work to plan the evening ahead. She considered which chores she could do to free up time on her days off for more pleasurable pursuits, like scouting out a flea market. She thought about what new book she might start reading and letters she really ought to write.

      But tonight, as she pulled out of the hospital parking lot, she decided that what she really wanted most in life was a glass of wine.

      What had that been back there with Sam? Her heart had stopped gallivanting, but still thudded in a strange way. The pit of her stomach still felt ticklish. He’d been teasing her, she thought, and he had mentioned it. Not once, not twice, but repeatedly.

      Yes, she decided, she definitely wanted a glass of wine. It would be very soothing. She pulled over to the curb for a moment because she wasn’t quite sure how to go about such a thing. Stop at a bar? She’d noticed the Saddlebag at the edge of town a time or two, and there was always the Lone Star Country Club. But truth be told, her insides went a little squirmy at the idea of sashaying into such an establishment by herself. Okay, she thought, she’d find a liquor store.

      She pulled away from the curb and spotted one a few minutes later. It occurred to her that she’d passed it every morning and night on her way to and from the hospital without ever really noticing it. Of course, she felt very strongly about keeping her eyes on the road while she was driving. A fender bender would really disrupt her life. But these days such a calamity seemed like…well, less of a calamity.

      “Being taken hostage with God’s gift to women is infinitely worse,” she muttered, and pulled her little car up to the curb one more time.

      She got out and locked the door. She was halfway across the sidewalk when it happened again, that itchy feeling at the back of her neck, the humming urgency inside her to make sure the car was absolutely secure. Cait stalled and rubbed a hand over her nape.

      “No,” she said. She wasn’t going to do this anymore. She was going to get better.

      “I didn’t even ask you yet,” said a man approaching up the pavement.

      Cait turned her head, then literally gaped at him. He was one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen, right up there with Sam Walters. Why had she never noticed before how many truly handsome men there were running around Mission Creek?

      “I beg your pardon?” she asked uncertainly.

      “You said no.”

      She laughed a little breathlessly as she understood. “I did that, yes.”

      He grinned. “One of my best friend’s wives talks to herself a lot, too. They haven’t slapped her into the nuthouse yet.”

      Cait nodded. “I just started doing it recently,” she admitted.

      He threw back his dark head and laughed. “Points for honesty,” he said. “I like that. I’m Ricky Mercado, by the way.”

      “Oh! I’ve heard of you.”

      “Good or bad?”

      “Bad, actually.” Had she really just said that?

      He didn’t seem offended. “Well, I’ve reformed.”

      “How much?” Cait almost choked on her tongue. Was she flirting again? Such a thing could only get her into hot water, especially with this man. She had to knock it off right now.

      “Listen,” he said, motioning at the store, “if you were heading in there for something to drink, why don’t I spare you the trouble? I’d really like to take you out for a cocktail.”

      Cait felt the sidewalk shift beneath her feet. He wanted to take her out? Just like that? “Thank you, no.”

      “You’re sure?”

      “I’ve got plans,” she lied, and was shocked at the ease with which the words rolled off her tongue.

      “Too bad.”

      He looked as if he meant it, she thought bemusedly. She took another step toward the liquor store. A man like Ricky Mercado would gobble her up whole. There was something dangerous about him, some mob connection if she remembered correctly, not to mention his very air. Then again, the mob in Mission Creek had been more or less dismantled over the summer.

      Was she actually thinking about accepting his offer? Cait fled into the store before her tongue could betray her again.

      After twenty minutes she finally made her choices—a cabernet and something intriguingly called cactus schnapps.

      The cost exceeded the cash she had in her purse, as it was right before payday, so she had to use a credit card. Normally she only used credit cards for emergencies. She almost changed her mind, but the clerk was looking at her impatiently. Vowing to write a check for the balance that very night, before they could charge her interest, she handed over the plastic.

      She’d never be able to buy her own home if she tossed money away on such things as interest payments on credit cards, she thought. Then she had the sudden realization that it hadn’t seemed very important when she’d been coming undone in Sam Walters’s arms.

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