LITMIR.BIZ

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warmth. Slowly she relaxed. The center of her eyes dilated with awareness. Keep your hands to yourself, Cutter!

      “I’m sorry.” He forced himself to quit massaging her foot and get through with this procedure. “Now be still. This will only take a minute.”

      Her shoulders stiffened at his instructions. He slid the foot-measuring plate between her foot and his thigh. The cold metal chilled his overactive libido.

      “A perfect six,” he said, “but very narrow.” Then he measured the length from her ankle to her knee, sliding the measuring tape along the curve of her calf. He felt her tremble. She tried to pull away from him, but he held firm. “Your boots will be ready in six weeks, Miss…Doctor. What color would you like? White to go with your doctor coat?”

      “I’m not that kind of doc.”

      He raised an eyebrow. “A professor then?”

      “A psychologist.”

      Definite trouble. “How about black for troubled souls?”

      “Or for your black eye if you don’t let go of my foot.”

      She was one feisty filly. He laughed, taking more pleasure in the anger sparking in her eyes. Abruptly he released her foot and stood.

      Though he dreaded bringing out the grand prize, he had no choice. Everything had all been staged, and it was too late to turn the tide. Seeing it move toward them like a float in the Rose Parade, he reached for the microphone.

      “Now, ladies and gentleman and doctors, too.” His eyes darted toward Brooke. She was reaching for her wayward tennis shoe. “Here’s the grand prize.” Matt reached into his pocket for the keys. “Your very own convertible!”

      The crowd went wild as the tiny roadster was wheeled to the front of the platform. Brooke dropped her shoe, her mouth gaping before she recovered, her gaze slicing toward Matt for confirmation.

      “You don’t want that!” someone yelled. “Give it to me!”

      “How ’bout me, honey?” a man from the back hollered. “I could sure use a date magnet like that.”

      Matt’s eyes narrowed with irritation. He took Brooke’s hand and closed her fingers around the keys. “The car is yours. Understand?”

      She locked gazes with him. He felt an electric shock right in the middle of his chest, as if she’d zapped him with a cattle prod.

      “Could I have a van instead?” she asked.

      Her question stunned him. Now, after all this time, she was going to get greedy? “What?”

      “A van. You know with sliding doors on both sides.”

      He knew he would regret asking, but he couldn’t stop himself, “Why?”

      This time, she leaned toward the microphone. “I’m going to donate this car…well, van…to an orphanage here in town.”

      The crowd fell silent. It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room and every greedy hand waver chastised.

      “An orphanage?” Matt repeated.

      She nodded. “They really need a vehicle to transport the children for doctor appointments and special events. So if you don’t mind…?”

      She pushed the keys back toward him, putting the ball in his court. How could he say no?

      Slowly light applause trickled through the crowd, and Matt’s attitude toward Brooke suddenly changed. An orphanage. How many people would do something like that? Not many. He gave her a nod of approval.

      “Cutter’s would be glad to trade this car in for a vehicle that will help the orphanage.”

      Finally Brooke gave him a smile that melted the cynicism surrounding his heart. This woman amazed, confounded and confused him. And that spelled trouble.

      “What else do I get?” Brooke asked. Luckily her voice didn’t carry to the mike.

      What else? Maybe he’d been wrong about her. Maybe he’d wanted to believe there was someone out there who wasn’t interested in money or what he could give them.

      “What more do you want?” he asked.

      “Isn’t there a sign over in the window saying something about a million pennies?”

      He’d forgotten. This woman distracted him, jumbled his thoughts, discombobulated him. “Are you going to keep this one?”

      She lifted her chin with a challenge. “Why don’t you find out?”

      Chapter Two

      Enough celebration for one day.

      Enough Brooke Watson…or Dr. Brooke Watson…forever.

      Matt strode down the hospital corridor, intent on forgetting his irritation over the millionth customer debacle. More important things concerned him.

      The antiseptic smells made him scowl as he made his way past the nurses’ station. But Brooke’s clean, fresh scent of soap and sunshine lingered with him, permeated his thoughts and kept him thinking of her long, sexy, jeans-clad legs.

      What was the matter with him?

      Tempering his scowl, he opened the door to room 517 and gave a warm smile to the fragile woman in the hospital bed. “Hello, darlin’.”

      Her gaze shifted from the television set to Matt. He saw the spark return to her vibrant blue eyes, and her weathered face creased with a faint smile. “How did it go?” She held out her hand, beckoning him closer. “I want to hear all about it.”

      “In time,” he said, settling himself on the edge of the bed, mindful of the IV tubes. He took her frail hand in his and kissed it. “How are you today, Grandmother? Feeling any better?”

      “Feel just like a pin cushion.”

      “More needles, eh?”

      “Useless waste of time. There’s not a damn thing they can do for old age. Comes a time when a body’s ready to give out.”

      Every one of his muscles tensed, and his heart contracted with fear and worry. “Don’t talk that way, Grandmother. You’re as young as—”

      “An old goat. Don’t fool yourself, Matt, darling. My time’s coming. I’m at peace with it.” She patted his hand as if to soothe him, when it should have been the other way around. “I’m just sad I won’t live long enough to see you married and happy.”

      She said it as if marriage was synonymous with a cheerful state of mind. Which didn’t compute with him.

      “Well, I’m happy,” he said, trying to keep the conversation light. “Happily single. One out of two isn’t bad.”

      The wrinkled skin between her faded brows pinched tight.

      “Don’t you worry. Soon as you’re feeling better you’ll have plenty of time to set me up with more of your friends’ nieces and granddaughters.” She’d been playing matchmaker for years now, and Matt had taken it in stride but at the same time had easily sidestepped matrimony. “I might even surprise everyone and get married one of these days.”

      “You tease.”

      His grandmother was right. He wasn’t looking for a wife. He didn’t have anything against marriage. He simply wanted to be sure a woman wanted him. Not his fortune. Which seemed impossible, especially with the women he’d dated, who were as money hungry as tigers on the prowl.

      Eliza Louise Cutter gave his hand a squeeze. “You’re not happy, Matt. Believe me, if you were to find true love, the way your grandfather and I loved each other, then you’d understand why it’s so important. It will make and keep you young at heart. That’s one reason I’m not afraid to leave this life. At least

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