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The Gentleman Rancher
Cathy Gillen Thacker
From head-to-head… Taylor O’Quinn and Jeremy Carrigan always clashed – and when they didn’t see eye to eye on an important career choice, their cherished friendship ended. Taylor left Texas to pursue a lifelong dream; Jeremy became a respected doctor.To heart-to-heart? Back home for a much-needed break, Taylor suddenly sees her old friend in a new light. And meeting Taylor again after seven years makes Jeremy realise he wants more than the easy camaraderie they used to share.He wants her to be part of his dream – the lady who captures this gentleman rancher’s heart!


Jeremy chuckled. “Is this the way it’s going to be?”

“What?” With an indignant sniff, Taylor shot up out of her chair.

He caught her hand. “Us sparring back and forth continuously until you leave?”

She pushed him away, one hand flat against his chest. “I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

“Jeremy…”

It was all he could do not to take her in his arms. “I’d like us to be friends again.”

Surveying him with exaggerated politeness, she crossed her arms in front of her. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He stood slowly.

He had missed her. So much.
CATHY GILLEN THACKER

married her school sweetheart and hasn’t had a dull moment since. Why? you ask. Well, there were three kids, various pets, any number of cars, several moves across the country, his and her careers and sundry other experiences (some of which were exciting and some of which weren’t). But mostly, there was love and friendship and laughter, and lots of experiences she wouldn’t trade for the world. Please visit her website at www.cathygillenthacker.com.

The Gentleman Rancher
Cathy Gillen Thacker


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Chapter One
Trouble In Paradise?

Newlyweds Zak and Zoe Townsend may act like lovebirds on their reality TV show, detailing the most intimate moments of their first two years as husband and wife, but on the set of their first feature film, Sail Away, the mood has been anything but romantic. The pop/rock stars have been at each other’s throats since filming began two months ago. Why, no one seems to know, least of all the legions of fans who have rooted for the Hollywood couple since their fairytale romance began…

June 1 edition, Celebrities Weekly magazine
As the sun went down, bringing dusk to the West Texas sky, Taylor O’Quinn had been in her Jeep Liberty for seventeen hours and fifty-three minutes. By her calculations, she had about twenty more minutes to go before arriving at the Chamberlain ranch, outside of Laramie, Texas. She couldn’t get there a moment too soon.
Her air-conditioning had begun malfunctioning somewhere near the California-Arizona border. By the time she reached New Mexico, it had quit altogether. Driving with the windows down hadn’t been so bad when she was up in the mountains, but when she had hit the flatlands of Texas, the heat had been brutal.
One-hundred-and-ten degree summer heat—even when blowing over her body at sixty-five miles an hour, was still hotter than blazes. The only thing keeping her going was the thought of the swimming pool awaiting her. Well, that and the fact that she had a place to stay rent-free for the next few weeks. Another fringe benefit was no one would ever think to look for her at the family home of her best friend.
Speaking of which… Taylor pulled over long enough to loop the hands-free receiver over her ear and dial her cell.
Paige Chamberlain answered on the third ring. “Hey, girlfriend, where are you?”
Her familiar voice brought a smile to Taylor’s face. “About fifteen minutes away, I think.”
“Great!” Paige exuded her customary good cheer and stellar organizational skills. “I left a key for you in the planter next to the door. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. The yellow guest room in the main house is yours. Clean towels are in the linen closet across from the hall bath.” After a brief interruption, she returned to the line. “I’ve got an appendectomy to do, so I’ll be at the hospital a few more hours. Until then, make yourself at home.”
“I will. And thanks, Paige.”
The sound of an announcement over the hospital intercom system blared in the background. “No problem.” Paige shouted to be heard above it. “See you soon!”
Taylor said goodbye and concentrated on finding the unassuming entrance to the ranch, a task that was not so easy as dusk covered the Texas countryside with a soft gray gloom. Luckily, the plain black wrought-iron archway, sans lettering of any kind, was just as Taylor remembered it. She turned down the single blacktop lane and drove through unkempt fields of mesquite and scrub brush that remained wild until she was completely out of sight of the two-lane farm-to-market road. Then, the fence started, the grass grew more manicured, and the sprawling hacienda-style ranch house rose above the plain, glowing with welcoming lights. The personal retreat was an oasis of privacy and rustic comfort, the kind of home where legendary actor-film director Beau Chamberlain and his movie-critic wife, Dani, could live in relative anonymity. Taylor had stayed there many times when she and Paige had been college—and med school—roommates.
Acutely aware of just how long ago that had been—a good seven plus years—Taylor parked in the empty driveway and got out. Leaving her belongings in the car, she passed the front of the house and followed the flagstone path to the backyard. The pool was designed to look like a hidden lagoon, complete with waterfall and tropical plants. The underwater lights weren’t on, but there was enough illumination from the adjacent ranch house and the guesthouse on the opposite side to allow Taylor to take a swim.
The shimmering blue water beckoned, cool and inviting.
Deciding to heck with going back to search for her swimsuit—she had waited far too long for relief from the searing summer heat as it was—Taylor kicked off her sandals and reached for the hem of her sweat-sticky T-shirt. Suddenly a familiar masculine voice jolted her from the task at hand.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

IT FIGURED, Jeremy Carrigan thought, that the first time he’d gone skinny-dipping in years, he’d get caught with his pants off. By none other than the most aggravating woman he had ever had the misfortune to meet in his life.
Taylor O’Quinn turned to get a closer look.
In profile, she’d been beautiful.
Facing him, she was even lovelier. In the years since he’d seen her, the delicate bone structure of her facial features had only become more pronounced. Long-lashed blue eyes dominated a slender nose and full, soft lips. As she released her thick black hair from the elastic band that had been holding it away from her face, the windswept strands fell, rippling across her slender shoulders and brushing at the graceful slope of her neck. Lower still the perfection continued in her five-foot-six form. His pulse picked up as his glance roved her full breasts, slender waist, curvy hips and long, shapely legs.
Somehow, Jeremy thought, it wasn’t all that surprising to find that Taylor O’Quinn had only gotten sexier as she aged. What stunned him was the realization that, even after all these years of resentful silence, he still wanted her as much as ever.
Taylor froze—as if sensing she were being scrutinized. Slowly, she peered into the shadowy cove where he was lounging. When she spied him, her chin took on the familiar tilt. “What are you doing here?” Taylor demanded.
Jeremy put up a staying hand to keep her from coming any closer. “I might ask the same question of you,” he remarked dryly, silently wishing his response to her would fade.
“Paige said I could stay here with her for a few weeks, while her own house is being remodeled and her parents are in Montana. She didn’t say anything about you being here.”
Jeremy shrugged. “She didn’t tell me anything about you arriving, either.”
Still a good twenty-five feet away from him, Taylor knelt to test the temperature of the water with her hand. “Then you’re just here to swim?” She regarded him with lifted brows.
The way she’d said that told Jeremy she wasn’t here just to get in a workout, either. Which probably meant Paige had neglected to tell them both something very important. He pushed aside his irritation with effort. He shrugged matter-of-factly. “I’m bunking here for a few weeks.”
Taylor took her wet hand and rubbed it across the back of her neck, in a futile effort, he guessed, to cool down. The gold shamrock necklace she had been given by her late grandmother, and wore as a symbol of luck and blessing, still glistened around her neck. “In the guesthouse,” she presumed, obviously hoping to put as much physical distance between them as possible.
“Paige has the guesthouse,” Jeremy corrected, treading water, and drifting further back into a shadowy corner so he could still gaze at her, but she could not see much of him. “I have the green bedroom in the main house.”
Taylor approached the corner of the pool, caddy-corner to him, where the steps were located. Hand on the railing, she walked down until the water came up to the hem of her capris. “Don’t you have your own place?” She sounded piqued.
He couldn’t blame her, they hadn’t parted well. And they hadn’t communicated with each other in the seven years since. “As a matter of fact, I do own a home.” His voice resonated with pride. “Lago Vista Ranch, on Lake Laramie.”
She walked back up the steps, to the decorative tile edging the swimming pool. Standing there, running her foot across the surface of the water, she seemed to be weighing her next move. Ever so slowly, she directed her glance at him. “Then why aren’t you staying there?”
Jeremy wished people would stop asking him that. It was all he’d heard for the past two years. He let his shoulders rise and fall. “It doesn’t have any indoor plumbing at the moment.”
She strode toward Jeremy and looked at him as if he were an idiot. “You bought a place with no working plumbing?” Disbelief resonated in her low tone.
“I figured I’d get the septic tank replaced eventually and in the meantime it has…portable…accommodations for emergencies.”
“You have a port-a-potty on your property?”
“It was either that or build an outhouse. This seemed more practical.”
“I’ll bet.” She edged closer still. She seemed to be regarding him with the same fascination she would have shown an unfamiliar species in the Houston zoo. “Just out of curiosity… what was the deal-maker on the property?”
That, Jeremy thought, was easy. He gestured expansively. “It had to be a ranch and it had to have a water view.”
Taylor chewed on her lower lip. “I get the wanting to live on the water thing.”
Jeremy wasn’t surprised. Water had always soothed Taylor as much as it relaxed him.
“I don’t get the ranch.” She peered at him through narrowed lashes. “You’ve never been a cowboy.”
Nor did he intend to raise cattle, horses or any other form of livestock. He angled his thumb at the center of his chest. “I’m a gentleman rancher. And I wanted acreage around whatever home I purchased for privacy reasons.”
She tilted her head, considering. “Does it have a pool?”
“It’s got a dock…and private access to the lake,” Jeremy related with pride.
Without warning, she looked down into the water and smirked. “Nice.” She took her sweet time lifting her gaze to his. “What happened to your swim trunks?”
Jeremy grimaced, trying to ignore the way the blood was rushing to his lower half. All she’d have to do was look down again and she’d know exactly what was on his mind—at least subconsciously.
“They’re in the house.” He kept his voice casual, his eyes on hers. He smiled slowly, offering, “If you want to go and get them for me…”
Contrary as ever, Taylor replied, “Can’t say as I do.” Hips swaying lightly, she sauntered back to the opposite side of the pool, began emptying the pockets on her capri pants. She set lipstick, keys, a receipt or two, and some change down on a glass-topped patio table. Jeremy’s throat went dry at the thought of her stripped down, too. He cleared his throat, regarding her steadily. “Tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”
Amusement rippled in her voice. “What do you think I’m doing?”
He flashed her a cryptic smile. “Taking off your clothes.”
“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.”
Treading water—naked—while she was standing up there, observing him, was tough enough. Having her in the pool with him… A chill of intense awareness rippled through him. “You don’t want to do this,” he insisted.
She smirked again, not the least bit dissuaded. “You only think that because you don’t have a clue how hot I am.”
Once again, Taylor O’Quinn was dead wrong. He had always known how sexy she was. It just hadn’t been a good idea, getting romantically involved with another first-year med school classmate.
He played it safe. Noncommittal. “I’m serious, Taylor.”
She chose to ignore the unsubtle hint. “So am I.” She lifted her arms above her head and engaged in a languid whole-body stretch. “If the sight of a naked woman bothers you—and it really shouldn’t, given how many years you’ve been a doctor now—then turn your back.”
And miss the show? No way!
He studied her, not believing she would really stand there and strip in front of him.
Then again, with the swiftness with which her capris and T-shirt had just come off… Clad only in a pale pink bra and panties that revealed a hell of a lot more than they covered, she reached around behind her.
Blood surged, low and fast. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with what she was about to uncover. In medical school, they’d had to practice giving other students physicals, before they examined any real patients. Jeremy and Taylor had been in the same Introduction To Clinical Medicine section. Hence, they’d both seen each other and eight other fellow students in states of undress. The experience had been humbling and instructional. It hadn’t been arousing—they’d been learning the art of being a doctor.
This was different. This was no classroom setting. He wasn’t in doctor mode. Nor was she…
He swore, then reluctantly gave her the privacy she deserved and turned his head.
Seconds later, the water splashed with the force of a clean, graceful dive. She swam along the bottom of the pool and came up, on the opposite side.

TAYLOR WATCHED Jeremy’s eyes widen as her shoulders broke the surface and he focused on the bra straps clinging to her. She couldn’t help it, she started to laugh.
She waggled her eyebrows at him. “Faked you out, didn’t I?”
“It would seem I’m the only one at a disadvantage, here.”
And Taylor wished like heck he wasn’t.
Seeing Jeremy’s buff body, even through the soft illumination of patio lamps and the filter of water, was a jolt to her system. Six foot two and muscled…everywhere. His broad shoulders and long limbs were all male, and imposing enough to make her feel out of her depth here. His hair was a very dark brown with the barest hint of red. These days the damp strands were on the short side, maybe an inch and a half long, and styled in the cut so popular with professional guys his age. But there was nothing usual about the high cheekbones and eloquent brow of his angular face. A blunt masculine nose topped an even more rugged jaw and the don’t-toy-with-me set of his lips.
She’d always been attracted to him physically, even when she couldn’t say they respected each other very much. Unbidden, the memory of the last time they had seen each other and the harsh words they had exchanged, returned.
“You’re making a mistake, Taylor. Don’t do it… Don’t quit!”
Disillusionment filtered through her at the memory of that angst-ridden time in her life.
Jeremy swam closer. “I guess this is the point where I congratulate you on your success as an author.”
It shouldn’t have mattered to her what Jeremy Carrigan thought. Any more than she cared about what her parents or her two surgeon-brothers thought of her career choice. To her chagrin, it still did. Taylor turned her gaze from the water beading on his sinewy shoulders. Struggling to ignore her reaction to his nearness, she sidestroked a short distance away. “You heard?”
Still treading water, Jeremy looked her square in the eye. “That The Guy Who Sailed Away and the Girl Who Found Herself is being turned into a movie starring Zoe and Zak Townsend?” He shoved a hand through his waterlogged hair. “It would have been hard not to know that, given how much it’s been in the news for the last six months.”
“The celebrity and entertainment news.”
“That’s still news.” He regarded her through squinted eyes. “So what’s next? Are you going to move out to Hollywood for good now? Write more books? More screenplays?”
She noted he didn’t seem to want her to do that now any more than he ever had. “No.”
“How come?”
She breast-stroked down to the opposite end of the pool and sat down on the lowest of the circular steps, so the majority of her body was covered by the soothing chill of the water. “I prefer writing novels to movie scripts.”
“Meaning what?” He studied her, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. “If they turn your next novel into a movie, you won’t write that screenplay, too?”
About this much, Taylor was certain. “I’m not selling the movie rights to another book.”
He swam closer. His glance took in the new stiffness of her spine. “How come?” he asked.
“I—” Taylor abruptly turned her glance, to avoid getting a full-on view of everything about him she had sought to forget. Suddenly she saw movement in the hedge of red-tipped photinia bushes enclosing the landscaped backyard. “What the…?” She frowned, as a branch snapped, close to the ground. Leaves rustled.
Jeremy’s gaze narrowed, too. He tensed. “You hear that?” he asked.
Taylor nodded.
“Could be some form of wildlife,” Jeremy speculated.
But what kind? Taylor wondered. Armadillos and porcupines usually had more sense than to wander this close to the ranch house. Snakes, on the other hand, had been known to search out water in the summer heat. More than a few had ended up in Texas swimming pools…surprising the heck out of the people in or around them.
Jeremy swam closer. “You stay here. I’m going to check it out.”
His insistence on being chivalrous now—when he had not done so during the time when she desperately needed and wanted his support—rankled. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Taylor stood, dripping water onto the steps. Haughtily she announced, “I’ll look.”
Oblivious to his lack of clothing, Jeremy vaulted out of the water. He clamped a staying hand just above her elbow. “No. I’ll go.”
Ignoring the view of his gloriously handsome body, she wrested free and stalked in the direction of the sound. To her mounting frustration, it took Jeremy less than two strides to catch up. She increased her pace determinedly. So did he. Side by side, they cautiously approached the hedge.
As they closed in, a fifty-something woman, clad in outrageously short shorts and a halter top, shot up. Simultaneously, a camera flash went off in their eyes, temporarily blinding them. By the time they could focus again, she was already running away.
“Sorry!” she shouted sheepishly over her shoulder. “Didn’t mean to get you. I was looking for Beau!”

“IT HAPPENS every once in a great while,” Paige Chamberlain said, upon arriving home an hour later.
As always, the tall, lanky redhead looked just as apt to step off the cover of a magazine as out of an operating room. Although that wasn’t surprising to Taylor, given the glamorous yet down-to-earth couple Paige claimed as parents. Dani and Beau Chamberlain were both gorgeous and upstanding members of the entertainment industry. Beau came at it from an actor/director position, Dani the publishing side as a renowned movie critic. Taylor had admired both long before she’d met them, when she and Paige had become friends during college.
In turn, Paige had admired Taylor’s parents’ talent for surgery and had spent many hours discussing the pros and cons of each surgical specialty with them. Taylor’s dad, of course, had favored neurosurgery, his specialty. Her mom had pushed for a specialization in the cardio-thoracic field. Instead, Paige had followed her own path and ended up specializing in pediatric surgery.
“So it doesn’t bother you then?” Taylor asked skeptically.
“It’s par for the course,” Paige said. “We get some fan lurking behind the hedges, trying to get a photo of my dad. If you see her again, we’ll call the sheriff’s department, but she was probably harmless. Just out of curiosity,” Paige opened the fridge and withdrew three bottles of beer, “why didn’t you two just get her camera and take the film away?”
Jeremy looked at Taylor. Not about to reveal their state of undress at the time, Taylor busied herself making hamburgers for the three of them.
“Never got close enough to her.” Jeremy apparently agreed with Taylor that no one save the two of them, and the interloper, need know about their stripped-down appearance. “The woman hopped on a motorbike—hidden behind the bushes—and took off. It didn’t seem worth giving chase.”
“Probably wasn’t.” Paige sighed.
“Speaking of the unexpected,” Jeremy continued.
Taylor nodded. She and Jeremy didn’t agree on much but they did agree on this. She turned to face their mutual friend. “Why didn’t you tell me Jeremy was already bunking here?”
Paige shrugged. “Because it shouldn’t make any difference. The ranch is plenty big enough for the three of us. Especially since Jeremy and I both will be working at the hospital the majority of the time. Furthermore, I don’t have any problem saying I am getting pretty tired of being in the middle of your quarrel.”
“Hey,” Jeremy interrupted with a scowl, “we never asked you to take sides.”
“Right,” Paige drawled. “You just stopped speaking to each other and forbid me to speak about either of you to the other. Not cool.”
Taylor glared at Jeremy.
Jeremy glared back.
“It’s time the two of you made up so the three of us can be friends again, the way we used to be.” Paige munched on a potato chip. “I miss the fun we used to have, you know?”
Taylor slid the patties into a sizzling skillet and went to the sink to wash her hands. “Even if we bury the hatchet, it is never going to be the same. You two are still in medicine. I’m not.”
“You could be again if you wanted to be.” Jeremy rummaged through the fridge.
Paige looked reprovingly at Jeremy, as if to say, “Not that old argument again!”
“My sentiments exactly,” Taylor said.
Jeremy tossed them a look over his shoulder. He set pickles, mustard, ketchup and mayo on the counter. “I can’t help feeling the way I do.” He straightened and shut the door.
“Yes,” Paige countered, stepping past him to get the lettuce, tomato and cheese, “but you can certainly help saying it.”
Jeremy harrumphed at Taylor. “You were the most talented student in our class.”
Taylor flipped the burgers. “Grades aren’t everything, Carrigan.”
He lounged against the counter opposite her, arms folded across his chest. “You had a way with patients.”
Trying not to think what his steady appraisal and deep voice did to her, Taylor appraised him right back. “There are many professions that require good people skills.”
Cynicism lifted one corner of his mouth. “You shouldn’t have quit just because your parents expected you to be a doctor.”
With effort, Taylor tamped down her rising temper. “I quit because I wanted to write.”
“You could write and still be a doctor.”
Taylor looked at Paige. “Make him shut up or I’m going to deck him.”
Paige layered sliced tomatoes on the platter, next to the lettuce and onions. “You heard the woman.” She sent Jeremy a debilitating look. “Shut. Up.”
Jeremy moved so he could see around Paige. “Go ahead and punch me,” he dared Taylor. “I’m just saying what has to be said.”
“No.” Taylor closed the distance between them in three quick strides. She tapped his chest. “You’re saying what you feel. Your emotions have nothing to do with what I want or need.”
“Probably not,” he acknowledged. “I just think it’s a shame. The world needs more doctors like you—”
Paige put two fingers between her teeth and whistled loud enough to stop traffic on Times Square. “Enough!” She waved her arms like a referee breaking up a fight. “Both of you—apologize—now!”
“For what?” Jeremy and Taylor said in unison.
Rolling her eyes, Paige touched her fingers to her forehead. “I give up. I’m going to the guesthouse.”
“Don’t you want your burger?” Taylor slid the sizzling meat onto an open bun.
“Don’t mind if I do.” In stormy silence, Paige added condiments to her sandwich and a handful of chips. She took her plate and bottle of beer with her, calling over her shoulder, “Good night!”
Silence fell.
Taylor added the works to her burger, too. “I think I’ll eat in my room.”
Jeremy clamped a hand on her shoulder, delaying her exit with a sincere look. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Again.”
His apology seemed genuine enough, Taylor noted grudgingly. She set her plate on the kitchen table, next to her beverage, and took a seat. She spread her napkin over her lap. “The real question is, are you going to bring it up again?”
“No.” Jeremy garnished his burger, then sat at the other end of the table. He sat down and dug in. “Especially since it’s obvious I’d be wasting my breath.”
They ate in silence for several minutes.
Aware she had waited years for the chance to go toe-to-toe with him over this very subject, she said, “It’s not as if I never sold a book, you know. I’m a published novelist and a screenwriter.” She didn’t know why she felt she had to keep saying that. If she’d been a doctor, she wouldn’t have been forced to defend the value of her profession. Of course, if she’d been a doctor, people wouldn’t have questioned the value of her job.
He polished off one burger, got up to get another. “Got any copies of your book with you?”
Her defenses snapped back into place. “No.”
He grabbed another handful of chips, too. “I’d like to read it.”
Was this a trick? Another way to continue his crusade to get her back into medicine? It didn’t appear so. More like a way to assuage his guilt. She didn’t need penance from him, either. She made no effort to hide her irritation. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Why don’t you want me to?” he asked, even more curious. He kicked back in his chair and polished off his beer. “I thought all authors wanted to have their stuff read. Isn’t that the point of being a novelist? To be popular? To have your voice heard and all that?”
Maybe for some. She wrote because she had to, because she had something to say, stories to tell that wouldn’t get out of her head until they were written down. Taylor’d been a storyteller as far back as she could remember, always drifting off into daydreams and conjuring up movies in her head. It was a heaven-sent gift that was as much a part of her as her straight black hair, and just as impossible to explain.
She sighed and looked Jeremy in the eye. “The only reason I would want you to read my book is because you enjoy that type of story. Since I can’t really see you ever picking up a chick lit novel by anyone else—to read for pleasure—then the answer is a resounding no. Do not do me any favors!”
Merriment crept into his dark brown eyes. “I could broaden my horizons.”
Taylor snorted and kicked back in her chair, too. “I’m not saying you don’t need to do that.”
“But?” Electricity sparked between them.
She shook her head, aware her heart was racing. “Not at my expense.”
His handsome features tightened into a mock-reproving look. “You’re awfully prickly.”
“You’re awfully pushy,” she retorted.
“And moody.”
“Keep it up, I dare you.”
His grin broadened. “So what’s really going on with your life?”
Taylor jumped up to clear the table. “What do you mean?”
His movements as lazy as hers were restless, he got up to help. “You told Paige you drove eighteen hours straight to get here, when you could have taken a flight and had your Jeep shipped back to—where was it you said you’d been living?”
“Chesapeake, Virginia.” Taylor slid dishes into the dishwasher, straightened, all attitude once again. “What’s your point?”
“My point is,” he explained, his voice as silky-smooth as hers was blunt and impatient, “that you told Paige the move back home could have been done for you, at movie studio expense, if you had been willing to wait another few weeks for it all to be arranged, by their business affairs office. Instead, you got in your car and drove all the way here, on very little notice.”
He was far too observant for comfort. Worse, he’d always seen things that no one else noticed. She tilted her chin at him. “So?”
Jeremy stared at her with a steely resolve that matched her own. “The last time you took off in your Jeep—that I know of anyway—and drove that long and that hard, was the day you quit med school.” He paused, his gaze roaming the contours of her face, lingering on her lips, before slowly returning to her eyes. “So what’s happening in your life that Paige and I don’t know about?” he asked, even more softly. “What are you running from this time?”
Chapter Two
“And Last But Not Least,” Anchor Mandy Stone read the teleprompter with a salacious smile, “up and coming novelist-turned-screenwriter Taylor O’Quinn set tongues to wagging when she skipped the wrap party for SailAway. Insiders were not surprised. Dozens of rewrites for the troubled pic have left everyone feeling frustrated and unhappy—including the film’s two leads, Zak and Zoe Townsend.”
(Cut to film of wrap party.)
“The story had some problems, as it was originally written,” Zak admitted, presenting his best side to the camera and taking his wife’s hand.
“But we’ve done our best to fix them,” Zoe added, pausing earnestly.
“We just hope Taylor’s all right.” Zak wrapped an arm around Zoe’s shoulders and pulled Zoe in close to his side.
Zoe nodded, looking even more doe-eyed and distressed. “When Taylor left the set, and drove off in her SUV, she was in tears…”

June 2 edition of Short-takes! Celebrity Entertainment Network
Taylor couldn’t help feeling relieved when their heated confrontation was interrupted by Jeremy’s pager. As he put in a call to his answering service, she scrambled to come up with a reasonable response to his accusation. Unfortunately, her reprieve was short-lived.
Medical crisis averted, Jeremy snapped his cell phone shut and gazed at her expectantly. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
Taylor set the damp dishcloth down with more than necessary care. She turned back to Jeremy, her expression stoic. “I’m not running away.” She enunciated each word distinctly, then moved past him.
Arms folded, Jeremy watched her head for the exit. Her actions evoked bittersweet memories of a time when they could have had everything. If only she had stayed in Texas, instead of heading off for parts unknown… “Then why are you bolting the kitchen?”
As she whirled back around to face him, her long black hair rippled across her shoulders. “Perhaps because I’m done talking to you?” She smiled sweetly.
Jeremy shook his head. “You’re running from me the way you ran from whatever’s going on in Los Angeles.”
Defiance gleamed in her blue eyes. “You’re wrong.”
“I don’t think so.” He closed the distance between them. “I’ve always been able to read you like a book.”
Temper flared in her cheeks, turning them a rosy pink. “Then you know how ticked off you’re making me right now.”
“It doesn’t change the truth,” he drawled.
“I’m going to bed.” She glared at him.
He glared right back. “I’ll still be here tomorrow.”
She breathed in deeply and appeared to be counting backwards from…one thousand. “Hopefully you’ll be at the hospital by the time I wake up,” she predicted.
Aware he had gotten under her skin as quickly as always, he straightened. “Then I’ll be here tomorrow night.”
“Like Paige said, it’s a big ranch house.” She propped her hands on her slender hips. “We can coexist without actually coming in contact with each other.”
Her heart was beating much too quickly—he could tell by the pulse in her throat. He twisted his lips into a crooked line then murmured, “That’s not what Paige said.”
“It’s what I inferred,” Taylor huffed.
Jeremy strolled closer, trying not to notice how quickly his body was responding to her. “You didn’t let me help you the last time you were in trouble,” he reminded her, making no effort to mask his frustration.
She stomped out the back door, through the screened porch. The door banged behind her. “That’s because you weren’t interested in helping me—you were trying to tell me what to do, think and feel, and I had enough of that from my family!”
Jeremy followed her across the decorative stones of the patio, toward the driveway. “You’re right. My behavior was bad.” He caught up with her next to her red Jeep. “It doesn’t mean I can’t make up for it now.”
Taylor lifted the cargo door in stormy silence. The back was crammed with belongings, everything from dishes to lamps to computer, to clothes. Lots and lots of clothes, Jeremy noted.
“Why would you want to do that?” she demanded.
Because of the way you looked when you came up out of thewater. Because I missed you. Because no one has ever mademe feel the way you do when we go toe-to-toe like this.
Jeremy watched her sift through to the large suitcase on the very bottom. She grabbed hold of it and tried to ease it out. The weight on top of it kept it from budging. She yanked all the harder.
He brushed her aside with his body, and accomplished with ease what she had failed to do. Ignoring the scowl on her pretty face, he set the suitcase on the pavement. “I like challenges.”
Muttering under her breath, she rummaged around until she was able to extract her laptop computer case, which had been wedged between two stacks of linens. The action caused the towels to slide toward her. Once again, Jeremy reached in quickly, catching the towels with one hand and steadying her by placing his other hand beneath her elbow.
She stumbled, regained her footing, and jerked free of him without so much as a thank you. “I’m not one of your family practice patients.”
Thank heavens for small favors, because if she was, he’d have to keep his distance from her emotionally for ethical reasons. He paused, furrowing his brow. “How did you know what my specialty was?”
She turned her gaze to the sky. “I think Paige might have mentioned it one hundred thousand times.”
He watched as she stood on tiptoe to catch and close the cargo door. “You remembered.”
She pushed a button near the suitcase handle and yanked on the retractable grip. “Hard not to, when something is repeated that often.” She waited until she heard the handle lock into place, then shifted the weight so the wheels were at an angle and hence able to easily roll. “And as long as we’re being honest…”
“Yeah?”
Ducking his attempts to help her, she struggled to manage the laptop sliding down one shoulder, without stopping her forward progress. “Why are you suddenly hitting on me?”
He reached forward to wrest the bulky suitcase from her, despite her obvious wish he wouldn’t. “You think that’s what I’m doing?”
Reluctantly, she let him help her. With a toss of her head, she marched forward. “I don’t know what you’re doing,” she called over her shoulders. “Except I am not one of those damsels in distress you are always dating, and then sending on their merry way when their crisis is over.”
Jeremy winced as she held the door. “How do you know about that?”
“Paige,” they said in unison.
He eased past, careful not to get her suitcase tangled up with the laptop case swinging off her shoulder. “I was just friends with all those women,” he said, striding back toward the bedroom wing.
“Unlike Imogen Tate?”
Jeremy tensed. “You know about that?”
“I know you dated her for two years, starting right after I left Texas, and asked her to marry you. Instead of saying yes, she dumped you for a professional hockey player…and you’ve been on the rebound ever since.”
Just because he couldn’t seem to find a woman who came close to the one standing in front of him did not mean he was on the rebound. The truth was, he realized now, he and Imogen had embarked on a relationship that met their physical needs yet never placed any emotional demands on either of them. They were solo operators, each going their own way, never connecting for anything more than sex and social convenience. The few times he’d tried to help Imogen with her problems or have her listen to his had been a complete bust. But figuring Taylor did not need to know any of that, he shifted the attention back to her. “What do you know about rebound?”
He stood in the wing that housed the guest bedrooms, waiting for her to pick one. She noticed his belongings in the first bedroom and headed all the way down to the opposite end of the hall.
Her know-it-all smirk harkened back to their med school days. “If you have to ask me that, it shows how little you understand about me.”
Suitcase in tow, he trailed behind her. “Uh-huh. Well, I know this. I know you didn’t waste any time in the romance department after leaving Texas.” He paused in the doorway of the suite she’d chosen. “How long did it take you to hook up with Baywatch Bart?”
“His name was Bartholomew Wyndham.”
Aware he was sounding a little jealous, Jeremy continued in a more nonchalant tone, “I saw his picture. Who poses on the deck of a yacht?”
Taylor snatched her suitcase from him and rolled it toward the walk-in closet. “A guy who runs Bart’s Charter Fishing Tours, perhaps?”
“Why’d you break up?” Was Taylor still carrying a torch for the guy?
Taylor set her laptop case next to the reading chair. “None of your business.”
Had he hurt her? Was that why she was so…defensive?
Figuring it wouldn’t hurt if they spent a little more time together, Jeremy came closer. “Why’d you get together?”
“Also. None. Of. Your. Business!” Taylor went back to her suitcase.
Jeremy watched her bend over to unzip it. “Find any more beach bums in Hollywood land?”
She extracted a toiletries bag and carried it into the adjoining bathroom. With the same ease she’d exhibited when they’d been med students, sharing a house with half a dozen other students of both sexes, she took out the facial cleanser and began to lather up her face. “I haven’t been dating anyone for the last two years.” Finished, she reached for a towel.
“How come?”
Briefly, she buried her face in the soft yellow terry cloth. “If you know so much about me, why don’t you know that too?” Taylor left the bathroom and began to rifle through the suitcase.
She gave him a look that said, “If you don’t mind…”
Taking the hint, he lifted a hand and eased out of the room. She shut the door behind him with a definite thud. Jeremy exhaled in frustration, then walked out the rear of the house, across the pool area to the guesthouse.
Paige’s light was still on. She answered his knock with a look of aggravation. Open book to her chest, she waved him in. “That didn’t take long.”
He sank into a club chair in front of the fireplace and stretched his legs out in front of him. “What didn’t take long?”
Paige settled on the far end of the sofa. “For the two of you to have a fight.”
Jeremy shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts and studied the Remington painting above the mantle. “What makes you think we quarreled?”
“That look on your face,” Paige said. “The one that says you still can’t figure out what’s really going on between the two of you.”
Not true. They all knew that Taylor brought out the worst in him—the overbearing, intensely protective, got-to-have-the-last-word side his three sisters detested.
“We actively dislike one another,” Jeremy observed dryly.
“There’s that,” Paige conceded with a dip of her head.
Jeremy had an idea where this was going. He stood and restlessly, began to pace. Eventually, he slanted his old friend a reproving look. “That’s all there is.”
Paige tried not to grin but failed miserably. “If you say so.” She stuck her nose back in her book.
Jeremy scowled and continued to roam the living area. Given the amount of swimming he’d done earlier this evening, before Taylor had showed up, he should be relaxed. Instead, he was more tied up in knots than ever. In need of… hell, he didn’t know what he needed…that was the problem. Aware Paige was still watching him with a twinkle in her eyes, he chided gruffly, “I didn’t come over here so you could play shrink.”
Paige sobered, for reasons all her own. “Then why did you come over here?”
As long as he was here, he might as well ask. He’d wasted enough of Paige’s time already. Jeremy massaged the rigid muscles along the back of his neck. “Do you have a copy of Taylor’s book?”
“Yes, I do, and it’s back at my house—in town—nicely packed away so it won’t be damaged by all the renovation currently going on there.”
Jeremy swore beneath his breath.
Paige lifted her brow. “You really want to read it that badly, hmm?”
“I thought I might browse through a chapter or two,” Jeremy allowed, casually.
Paige considered that, coming to some private conclusion he would just as soon not know about, then eventually said, “There’s a signed copy in my mother’s office. It’s on the shelf next to her desk. You can read that if you promise to put it back. Anything happens to it,” she paused, accompanying her warning with a stern look, “my mother will have your head. She says it’s one of the best chick lit novels she’s ever read.”
Jeremy’d heard that a lot in passing. He’d never ventured even a glimpse of anything Taylor had written. “What do you think?”
Paige turned sincere. “I share my mom’s opinion. Taylor’s really talented.” She lifted a hand. “I don’t know what the problem in her life is now—”
“You think there’s something wrong now, too?” Jeremy interrupted.
“Duh. She only drove eighteen hours to get here today. She wouldn’t have done that if she weren’t running from something.”
Jeremy’s mouth tightened. “My thoughts exactly.”
“I offered her safe harbor here—as long as she needs. You mess with that, you wreck her peace of mind any more than it’s been wrecked, and you’re out of here.”
Already heading for the door, and the answers to at least some of his questions, Jeremy jeered, “Nice to know where I stand.”
“Isn’t it?” Paige echoed cheerfully.
Jeremy said good-night and walked back across the pool area. Unbidden, the memory of Taylor stripping down to her skivvies popped into his consciousness. Resolutely, he pushed it back down. He continued on into the house, and entered Dani’s office. The copy of Taylor’s first novel was right where Paige had said.
He sat down in a comfortable armchair and studied the cover of the oversized trade paperback novel. There were two cartoon figures on the book—a studly guy on a sailboat, and a pretty girl with track shoes on, beneath the big block letter title. The Guy Who Sailed Away and the Girl Who Found Herself by Taylor O’Quinn.
One Texas newspaper had given it a four-star review and deemed it “Unforgettable.” “Funny and real” said another. “Couldn’t put it down!” declared a third reviewer.
Impressed, despite himself, Jeremy opened the book, and began to read.

TAYLOR AWAKENED to the blinding glare of sunlight and the sound of “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol. Groaning, she groped for the cell phone on the table beside the bed and flipped it open. The music ceased.
“Where are you?” the voice on the other end of the connection demanded.
Good question. Taylor blinked and keeping her cell phone pressed to her ear, pushed her way to a sitting position in the comfy queen-sized bed. She felt like a truck had run over her. Her entire body ached. And she was so stiff, it was hard to move.
Which was what she got, she concluded as she recognized the guest room in the Chamberlain ranch house, for driving halfway across the country in one day.
“Why weren’t you at the wrap party for Sail Away?” Geraldine Meyerson demanded.
“How did you know about that?”
“It was on Mandy Stone’s show on CEN last night,” her editor at Sassy Woman Press replied with customary frankness. “Zoe and Zak said they were worried about you. Something about you crying as you were leaving the set?”
She’d been crying, all right. Taylor rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Those were angry tears.”
“I know Zak and Zoe have a rep for being difficult…”
“Difficult?” Taylor echoed. “Try insane!”
“It’s all going to work out,” Geraldine soothed.
“I don’t see how,” Taylor said miserably.
“It can’t be as bad as you think,” her editor insisted.
Taylor moaned. “You didn’t see the dailies. You didn’t have to participate in the rewrites.”
“Just calm down and think about the hundred-thousand-copy reissue we’re going to do. Those copies are going to fly off the shelf. And so are the copies of your second novel. How is your proposal for a third book coming?”
Taylor made a face. “I haven’t had much time to work on it.”
“The quicker you can get it in, the faster we’ll be able to go to contract, get it written and get it to press, too. Meanwhile, it’s imperative we have your first two books available to readers when the movie does come out.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Taylor, don’t bail on me. I’ve stuck my neck out for you.”
Taylor pulled herself together. “I’ll get the new book proposal done as fast as I can.”
“And don’t skip any more movie or Zak and Zoe-related events that generate publicity,” Geraldine ordered in her usual take-charge manner. “Sassy Woman Press, and your novels, need the attention.”

JEREMY’S LAST PATIENT of the day was Krista Sue Wright. On the surface, the pretty twenty-two-year-old woman had everything going for her. A teaching job at the middle school in Laramie, an engagement to the new owner of the Laramie newspaper, a great family, lots of friends. However, the number of times she had been in his office since she had graduated from college the previous month indicated something was awry.
“I don’t think it’s broken.” Krista Sue held up her swollen pinkie finger on her left hand. “But it hurts like the devil.”
“It sure looks like it does,” Jeremy sympathized, noting she’d had to take off the three-carat diamond engagement ring she had been sporting, and move it to her right ring finger instead. “How’d you do it?”
“It was silly, really. I caught it in the bathroom cabinet, between the hinge and the frame.”
Jeremy examined her hand. “You’re right—it’s not broken. But it is sprained.”
Krista Sue’s face turned a blotchy pink and white. Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to Brian. We were supposed to check out sites for the wedding reception this afternoon.”
Jeremy put a splint on her finger. “When’s the wedding?”
“July 24th.”
“That doesn’t give you much time.”
“I know. But we really want to get married before I start teaching school in August and we’re not fussy about the details. We just want our friends and family to be there.”
Then why the big deal about missing the excursion this afternoon? Jeremy wondered. He got a couple of sample packs of ibuprofen and an instant ice pack out of the cupboard. “I think you can still keep that appointment. Just keep the cold on your sprain, twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off. And take the ibuprofen three times a day until the swelling and pain subsides. You’ll be good as new in no time.”
“Thanks, Dr. Carrigan.”
“You’re welcome.” Jeremy paused. “Is everything else okay?”
Krista Sue looked at him, perplexed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
That was just it. He didn’t know.
“How are the stomachaches you were having?” Jeremy asked casually.
“They subsided as soon as I stopped drinking so much caffeine. I don’t even need the calcium carbonate tablets anymore.”
Jeremy consulted the chart. “And the dermatitis on your elbows?”
“Gone, too, thanks to the skin lotion I’ve started using every day.”
“And the migraines?”
“I only had the one. And it went away almost the moment I lay down in a dark room and closed my eyes. I think it was just…well, it’s not easy living at home again with my folks, while I wait for the wedding to take place, after being on my own at college for four years.”
“They pulling rank on you?” Jeremy teased.
Krista Sue rolled her eyes, her exasperation with her family evident. “Let’s just say I haven’t had to account for my whereabouts so much since I was sixteen! Anyway, thanks, doc, I won’t keep you. I imagine Brian is waiting for me, over at the paper. I don’t want to be late. He gets so grumpy when I keep him waiting.”
Jeremy gave her a hand down from the examining table. “You’d tell me if there were anything else going on, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course, but, there’s not.” Krista Sue rushed past him, gaze averted She used her uninjured hand to open the door, rushed out into the hallway, then stopped suddenly. She clapped a hand to her chest and announced excitedly, “Oh my gosh, I think I’m going to faint!”

TAYLOR HAD SEEN this kind of reaction plenty of times in the last two months—to Zoe and Zak, and various other celebrities in L.A. Never herself.
“You’re Taylor O’Quinn!” The young woman dropped the ice pack she was holding and enthusiastically pumped Taylor’s hand. “I’m Krista Sue Wright. You wrote that book! I loved it! Although I have to tell you, I had to go to so much trouble to find a copy. The only place I could find it was online.”
Not surprising, Taylor thought, as Krista Sue finally let go of her hand. Meanwhile Jeremy bent to chivalrously retrieve her ice pack.
“I’m a new writer, so I got a very small print-run from Sassy Woman Press with my debut novel,” Taylor explained, aware Jeremy was still standing there, watching her, a peculiar expres¬ sion on his face. It was almost as if he were seeing her in a new light. She couldn’t help but feel good about that. For reasons that weren’t exactly clear, she had always wanted his respect.
Telling herself that it did not matter what Jeremy Carrigan—or anyone else—thought about her, Taylor turned her attention back to her enthusiastic fan.
Krista Sue looked starstruck. “The moment I read the review in Dallas Women magazine, I knew I had to get my hands on a copy. And I have to tell you—I was not disappointed. Your heroine was so funny and feisty and brave!”
“Thank you.”
“And Rafael! Tell me you modeled him after a real guy!”
Taylor avoided the heat of Jeremy’s gaze. “It’s a work of fiction.”
“But you must have known someone like him to be able to write such steamy…er…ahh.” Krista Sue blushed fiercely, turning back to Jeremy as if suddenly realizing her family doctor was standing there, too, taking this all in.
The door to the reception area opened. A handsome young man, who looked to be in his mid to late twenties, walked in. He made a beeline for Krista Sue. “Are you okay?” He started to hug her, then noticed the ice pack she had pressed to her wrapped left hand. “Your mom said you hurt yourself reorganizing the bathroom shelves?”
“It’s a long story.” Krista Sue waved off the concern. “It was just a stupid household accident. And it’s not important. What is important is…look who is here! It’s the author of that book I love—the one that’s being turned into a movie starring Zoe and Zak Townsend!”
He straightened. “You’re right—it is.” Pleasure lit his face. “I’m Brian Hilliard. I just purchased the Laramie newspaper. We’d love to do an in-depth interview with you.”
“Well, I—” Taylor knew she had a duty to promote her book, whenever possible. She owed her publisher that much. But she had come here to disappear, not step back into the limelight.
Brian Hilliard handed Taylor his business card with all his numbers.
“I’ll need to check my calendar.”
“Whatever works for you.” Brian smiled. “Just let me know.” He took Krista Sue by the elbow, intending to guide her to the checkout desk, where the receptionist was waiting to complete the necessary insurance paperwork.
Krista Sue turned back to Taylor. “I’m dying to know. The hero in your story was so sexy. Is he based on anyone you know? Or is he strictly a fantasy man?”

FROM THE WAY Taylor flushed, Jeremy noted, you’d think it was some big mystery. When it wasn’t. Everyone who knew Taylor personally, had long ago concluded the hero was a thinly disguised portrait of her ex-lover, Baywatch Bart.
Taylor ignored the taunting look Jeremy was giving her and met Krista Sue’s curious gaze. “I get asked that a lot,” Taylor admitted frankly.
“I’ll bet,” Krista Sue said. “It seemed so…real.”
“But that romance began and ended in my imagination,” Taylor concluded with a straightforward smile.
Which didn’t quite answer the question, Jeremy thought. Although the retort seemed to satisfy Krista Sue.
“Did you need an appointment?” Ginny, the receptionist, asked Taylor, after Krista Sue Wright and her fiancé left.
“No. I’m just here to talk to Jeremy a minute,” Taylor replied.
Would wonders never cease, Jeremy thought. Given the way Taylor had stomped off to bed the evening before, he’d figured it would be a long time before she ever gave him the time of day again. On the other hand, they were sharing space, albeit temporarily, at the Chamberlain ranch. Maybe she’d come to apologize to him for being so prickly. If so, that was something he wanted to hear.
“This way.” He led Taylor into his private office and gestured for her to take a seat.
“I won’t take but a minute of your time,” she started, looking less than thrilled to be there.
“Take all the time you want.” Jeremy took off his white lab coat, unbuttoned the first button on his dress shirt, and loosened his tie. Hoping to delay her at least long enough for them to call a truce, he sat, facing her. “I’m done for the day. The only thing I have ahead of me is a couple of hours’ work on my ranch house.”
She avoided his eyes, looking at everything in the office except him. “Paige asked me to be part of the celebrity auction the hospital is having to raise funds for the new wing. I know it won’t be held until next September, but she said you are in charge of gathering the items to be sold, and I should talk to you about what I might donate.”
Jeremy gripped the desk on either side of him and rocked forward slightly. He let his gaze drift over the elegant contours of her face. Aware all over again how much he had missed having her in his life, he said softly, “You could have talked to me about this back at the ranch.”
She directed her attention to him once again. Her defenses were up. Oddly enough, that gave them something in common. He didn’t know how he felt about her, either. Except that he wanted this tension between them to end…
“I was in town, doing errands,” Taylor explained, looking flustered.
“Is that the only reason you came by my office?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” She straightened. “I wanted to stare at your diplomas with envy.”
Annoying her this way was starting to be fun. “No need to be sarcastic.”
The lift of her brows said it all. “Sorry. The nosiness of others brings it out in me.”
Jeremy chuckled. “Is this the way it’s going to be?”
“What?” With an indignant sniff, she shot up out of her chair.
He caught her hand, tugged her toward him. “Us sparring back and forth continuously until you leave?”
She pushed him away, one hand flat against his chest. “I don’t mind.”
He let her go, reluctantly. “I do.”
“Jeremy—”
It was all he could do not to take her in his arms. Aware how well that would go over, he contented himself with speaking what was on his mind. “I’d like us to be friends again.”
Surveying him with exaggerated politeness, she crossed her arms in front of her. “Really?”
“Really.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible, given the fact that you still—even after all this time—think I should have ignored my writing aspirations and gone into medicine.”
Was that still true? Twelve hours ago, it had been. But now…
Jeremy thought about the chapter he had read the night before, Krista Sue Wright’s reaction to Taylor’s work, and the fact Taylor’s very first novel was being turned into a movie. He stood slowly. “I was wrong, okay?” he said, surprised to find how good it felt to let go of the opinion that had torn them apart and kept them estranged for years. He had missed her. So much.
Figuring since he was responsible—at least in part—for driving her away, he should be part of the effort to bring her back, he continued, “It doesn’t matter how good a doctor you would have been. You are obviously doing what you are meant to do.”
Chapter Three
Zoe’s Secret Anguish

Is the marriage of the music industry’s hottest couple over? All of Hollywood seems to think so. Zoe Townsend hit the roof when she found Zak’s lipstick and perfume-stained shirt on their hotel suite floor. Seems the color—and the fragrance—weren’t hers.…

June 3 edition,
International Inquisitor magazine
Before Taylor could respond to Jeremy’s incredulous admission, his secretary buzzed in on his intercom. She wanted to discuss the next day’s appointments prior to leaving for the evening.
Jeremy excused himself and left the office for a few minutes. When he returned, he gave Taylor a quizzical look. “What’s wrong?”
Taylor’s mouth dropped open. She looked like she didn’t know whether to slug him or hug him. “Are you kidding me? How do you expect me to react to that bombshell you just dropped?”
Jeremy shook his head and continued in the same serious tone, “I’m the first to admit it when I am wrong. I was wrong.”
She snorted indignantly. “After seven years of being a stubborn donkey’s rear end, you change your mind,” she snapped her fingers, “just like that.”
Now, it was easy to come to that conclusion. Back then… how was he to know she was such a talented writer? Seven years ago, the only thing he had ever seen her put her energy toward was medical school. From the time she had entered college until the day she dropped out, Taylor had been exclusively focused on becoming a doctor. Just like him. He’d figured her abrupt decision to quit had been a combined reaction to stress, physical exhaustion, and fear. The thing was, they’d all felt that way during their grueling introduction to professional school, all wondered at some point at the start of their careers if they really had what it took to succeed in that field. For nearly all of them those feelings of indecision and insecurity had passed. He had assumed—for Taylor—that would be the case, too. Because he was her friend, he had tried to keep her from making a mistake that would destroy her long-held dream and haunt her the rest of her life.
Instead, from the looks of her—and the track record she had created as a writer—her actions had freed her.
Aware she was still waiting for the explanation behind his abrupt change of heart, he shrugged. “In those days, I hadn’t read anything you’d written.”
She edged closer. Her smile remained in place but he thought he saw it tighten a notch or two. “And now you have?”
Jeremy bit down on a curse. What was it about Taylor that always had him revealing too much? “I might have browsed a chapter of your book,” he allowed.
She went very still. “And?”
“I’m as curious as Krista Sue Wright about the hero of your romance novel.”
She frowned. “It’s chick lit.”
The contempt behind her reproach rankled, but he kept his irritation in check. “I stand corrected.” He paused. “But you’re dodging the question.”
She flashed him a condescending smile. “Which is…?”
“In Chapter One your heroine is really drawn to the hero in a physical sense,” he said.
“So?”
So everything about Taylor, from the silky fall of hair over her shoulders, to the clothes she wore, indicated she was a very sensual woman. He let his gaze rove the green cotton V-neck top that cut in slightly around the arms, leaving her shapely arms and shoulders bare. Her summer print skirt gloved her waist and hips in the same smooth, loving manner before ending just above her knees. Her legs were tan and bare, her delicate feet encased in sandals that looked as comfortable for walking as they were sexy. “So the hero in the book had a lot in common with that guy you were living with, back in Virginia,” he said.
She glided past, in a drift of orange blossom perfume. “How would you know? You never met my ex.”
Nor would he have wanted to. “Paige framed those pictures of you and Baywatch Bart. She’s got them in the living room at her house. I couldn’t help but notice them.”
She turned slowly. “You sound…jealous.”
Was he? “More like surprised,” he corrected, in the lazy tone he used to push people away when they got too close. He met her probing gaze. “I never thought you’d go for the suntanned, superbuff, got-to-live-free dudes who have nothing more to do than spend their trust funds.”
Taylor’s eyes took on a turbulent sheen. “Bart didn’t have any family money. He was disinherited when he dropped out of law school. A lot of his friends, including his fiancée, wanted nothing further to do with him, too.”
“Not unlike the hero in your novel,” Jeremy noted.
“And me.” She paused to examine the bronze statue one of his patients had brought him as a thank you. “My parents and two brothers pretty much stopped talking to me.”
His heart went out to her. Being at odds with family sucked. “How is it now?” he asked her gently, dropping into doctor mode without meaning to.
She relaxed slightly. “Better, since my dad’s heart attack last year. His illness really brought the family together. And it helped that I had a movie deal they could brag about to all their friends.”
“So why don’t you seem happier?” He went back to sitting on the edge of his desk. “Is it because you and Bart split up, and you’re still pining after him?”
She moved behind his desk and dropped into the leather chair. She swiveled back and forth, testing the chair’s ease. “Like the heroine in my novel, I don’t need a man to make me happy.”
“Does that mean you don’t want one ever again?”
“No.” She ran her finger along the edge of his desk. “It just means finding Mr. Right isn’t all that high on my priority list.”
When did her lips get so soft and so feminine? With effort, he returned his gaze to hers. “Then how come you stayed with Bart for so long?”
She challenged him with a knowing smirk. “Since you think my novel is really a roman à clef of my life with Bart, why don’t you just read the rest of it and find out?”
“Because,” he mocked her, “obviously, from the way you just said that, the book isn’t about Bart.”
She leaned forward, propping her elbow on his desk and resting her chin on her hand. “Bravo! You finally got it.”
“Although…” He leaned closer, too. “Aren’t all writers supposed to write what they know?”
She muttered a slew of words that indicated she hadn’t just dated a sailor, she had learned to talk like one, too. “For the last time,” she stood, slapping her palms on the surface of his desk, “The Guy Who Sailed Away and the Girl Who FoundHerself is a work of fiction.” She leaned forward until they were nose to nose. “F-I-C-T-I-O-N!”
Damn, but she looked pretty with all that agitated color brightening up her face, he noted. With effort, he remained where he was and resisted the temptation to touch her. Casually, he asked, “Why are you getting so defensive?”
Still glowering, she refused to answer.
Okay, maybe he should have read more of the book than the first chapter.
It wasn’t that it hadn’t been good. Her writing style was riveting—maybe because it sounded so much like the way Taylor spoke and acted herself. He had stopped because he didn’t like the idea of Taylor with another guy, even in her imagination, which was just plain weird since he and Taylor had never dated. Yet here he was, reacting to her like he was romantically interested in her.
“Can we please just get on with this auction stuff?” Taylor said impatiently. “Paige said there is some paperwork I have to fill out if I want to participate.”
Jeremy reached past her and opened his desk drawer. He retrieved the file that was on top and took out a handout for participants.
Their fingers brushed as she took it from him.
Ignoring the jolt of attraction, he said, “Just fill these out. It’s pretty self-explanatory.”
She nodded. “What kind of things are you looking for people to donate?”
“Whatever you think you can spare that will bring the most money. For instance, Dani Chamberlain is auctioning two tickets to a special screening of the biggest blockbuster movie of the summer, that generally only film critics and reviewers like herself get to attend. Beau Chamberlain is auctioning ten one-day visits to the soundstage of the movie he has in production. That will happen when he finishes all his location work up in Montana and returns to Laramie, in late July. His donation should bring in a boatload of money. My aunt Jenna is auctioning off one of her couture bridal gowns.” Jeremy paused. “Do you have any memorabilia from your upcoming movie that you’d be willing to part with? Those items usually go for pretty big bucks.”
“I didn’t take anything from the set, when we finished filming.”
“Not even a chair with your name on it or a copy of the script?”
Her eyes clouded over. “I didn’t get a director’s chair.”
“What about an extra copy of the script?” he pressed.
“No.” Her shoulders took on a defeated slump. “It would have been such a mess anyway…”
“Why?”
Taylor exhaled. “There were a lot of rewrites.”
“That’s pretty normal, isn’t it?”
She chewed on her lower lip. “Not to the extent it happened on Sail Away.”
Judging from her expression, her time in Hollywood had not been pleasant. “Why so many?”
She stood and retrieved her purse. “Zak and Zoe were in competition for screen time, number of lines, likeability of their character, you name it. Neither was happy unless he or she felt they held the advantage.”
Was that what she was running from? Or was there something more? “That must have been hard to be around.”
Her expression became inscrutable once again. She looped her shoulder bag over her arm and waved off his concern. “It’s over now.”
Was it? Something about the way she was acting said it wasn’t. “So I guess there’s no chance you could get Zoe and Zak to participate in the auction?”
Her expression went from sober to droll in no time flat. “Honestly, Jeremy, I wouldn’t even ask.”

TAYLOR LEFT Jeremy’s office with the promise she would donate something to the auction, but no idea what that would be. She was nearly to her car when Jeremy jogged up behind her. “Got plans for this evening?”
“No.” Wondering what he was up to now, she looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”
He grinned. “Ever torn down a wall?”
She looked at him quizzically. “Also…no.”
Undeterred, he walked beside her as she made her way to the driver side. “Want to try it? You can paint my face on the drywall first. Might help you work off some of that aggression.”
“When and where?” she asked.
“My ranch—as soon as we can get there. You want to follow me?”
Curious to see the land he’d purchased, she nodded. “Sure.”
The drive out to Lake Laramie took twenty minutes. It was another ten to the entrance to Lago Vista Ranch. On her own, Taylor probably never would have found it. That’s because the sign across the top of the welcoming wooden archway had been knocked off some time ago and lay splintered and broken in the waist-high weeds. And that was just the beginning of the air of neglect.
The gravel lane leading onto the property was choked on both sides with mesquite, cedar and sage. Closer to the lake, there were deep thickets of blackberry bushes, glistening with ripening fruit, just begging to be picked. Midway onto the private property, the lane diverged in two directions. Jeremy took the one to the right. As they bumped along the path, one vehicle after another, the ground sloped downward. Finally, they topped a rise and a steep decline. The sprawling lake was in view. Under the deep blue Texas sky, the lake was a shimmering aqua blue.
At the lake end of the lane was a weathered dock. Taylor parked and got out to soak up the view.
Part of the lake was open to the public and set aside for camping, hiking and other recreational activities. The rest of the property fronting the water—like Lago Vista Ranch—was privately owned. From where they stood, she could see vacation homes dotting the shore. The occasional marina. Private boat slips. A popular restaurant overlooking the lake. Out on the water, there were sailboats and cruisers. Everything you would expect on a perfect summer evening.
“I can see why you bought the ranch,” Taylor murmured appreciatively. “The view alone…”
“I come here and sit some evenings to decompress.”
Taylor liked to do the same thing when she was writing. “There’s something so soothing about the water,” she murmured. In fact, the proximity to Virginia Beach was why she had settled in the Chesapeake area of Virginia.
His smile was slow and sexy. “Want to see the rest of the property?”
“Sure.”
They backed up their vehicles, and turned around carefully.
Taylor led the way back to the fork in the lane, and still in the lead, followed the path they had yet to take.
Once again, the property had a deep aura of neglect, or maybe it was just wilderness. There was barbed wire along the edges, along with the occasional weathered No Trespassing sign, but no effort had been made to cultivate the property into the well-manicured ranchland prevalent in Laramie County.
Even if someone came in and took down the underbrush, thinned out some of the trees, and mowed the high grass in the meadows, it wouldn’t stay that way, Taylor noted.
Jeremy must have one hundred acres here, she guessed, as they came upon another rise. And there, in the middle of a small clearing, was one of the oddest dwellings she had ever seen.
The central part of the one-story ranch house was rectangular in shape and built of white stone. It had double windows on either side of the massive oak door, and a wide front porch shaded by a steep tin roof. Toward the back, there were two narrow wings, jutting out at ninety-degree angles from the main part of the house. These were made of stucco. One was painted bright turquoise, the other bright coral.
“Go ahead.” Jeremy held the door as she got out of the driver side of her Jeep. He exhaled in resignation, appearing to brace himself. “There’s nothing you can say I haven’t heard before.”
Taylor walked around the weed choked front lawn. It looked like an acre had been cleared around the domicile. Beyond that was the same overgrown tangle of scrub, trees and weeds she had encountered on the rest of the property.
“It’s…interesting.”
Jeremy fell into step beside her. “It’s bizarre.”
She walked around toward the back. As she got closer, she noted the stucco had been applied over what looked like pale orange brick. Patches of it shone through, around the edges. “I’d love to hear the story behind this.” She indicated the home.
Jeremy stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers. Taking her hand, he drew her out of the heat and into the shade. “The original owner built the four rooms in the center. He primarily used the place as a fishing and hunting retreat. It’s pretty rustic. He wasn’t much on upkeep and he sold it to a couple who dabbled in amateur architecture. The husband loved the South Beach area of Florida. The wife adored historic Charleston, South Carolina. They wanted to expand the house. They couldn’t agree how. So they compromised by building his-and-her wings in the stucco-over-brick-style of historic Charleston and painted them the vivid tropical colors of South Beach.”
“Wow.”
He let go of her hand as casually as he had clasped it. “The previous owners ended up getting divorced, and the property had to be sold as part of the settlement. Naturally, given the air of neglect there weren’t many prospective buyers even willing to consider taking on such a big project. I came along,” he announced proudly, “and got it for a song.”
Taylor stepped onto the V-shaped patio located between the two wings. There was no doubt the property could be turned into something, but it would take one hell of a lot of work. “How long have you had it?” she asked.
“Two years.”
She noted the pile of construction debris located next to the back door. It certainly appeared to be a work-in-progress. “And you’ve never lived here?”
“Once I show you the inside, you’ll understand why.” Jeremy unlocked the patio doors. The air inside was stifling. It felt like the heat of an oven rushing out at them. Inside the main room, the floor had been stripped down to the cement slab. There was no kitchen to speak of, just a cooler where a refrigerator should have been and a freestanding metal sink more suited to a laundry room, with an old-fashioned spigot. The remaining drywall had big gouges in it.
“You tore out all the cabinets?”
“They were rainbow-painted aluminum,” he explained.
“Oh.”
“The refrigerator had been shut off, still filled with food, in the summer heat. There was so much mold and bacteria in it, it had to go, too. Not that it would have been worth much—it was in pretty bad shape. There’s no central heat or air.”
“Then…?” she asked.
“The fireplace is it, when it comes to heat.”
Taylor blinked. “For the whole house?”
“Wings and all, yep.”
He led her toward the front of the house. “Initially, these two rooms were bedrooms, the Realtor said.” Jeremy indicated the two closed-off rooms on either side of the front door. “I think they should be formal rooms, living and dining, so I plan to take out the center part of each wall here to open them up.”
Taylor got the picture. “Which is where the sledgehammers come in.”
“Right.”
She looked around. “There’s no guest bathroom, I gather?”
“No. The original owner went with the outhouse for that. I tore that down and put in a port-a-potty.”
Taylor took a moment to consider that as she walked back toward the main living area. Although still stifling-hot, the fresh air flowing in from outside was cooling the space slightly. “How did they bathe, if they didn’t have a bathroom?”
“Lake?” Jeremy guessed. “I don’t know. Fortunately, the second owners—the couple who ended up getting divorced—had a full bath put in each wing.”
“So you have plumbing out here?”
“I will—when I get a new septic tank put in.”
Taylor nodded, thinking, “No wonder you got it for a steal.”
“Let me show you the rest.” Jeremy led the way into one wing. It was a large bedroom, painted a hideous color of purple, with matching carpet and walls. The theme continued into the adjacent bath. Taylor couldn’t help but stare. “I didn’t know they made counters and bathtubs that color.”
“Apparently you can paint them. Or get them recovered. I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do. I’d like to tear it all out and put in marble. Or maybe ceramic tile. I’m not sure.”
They ventured across to the opposite wing. It was done all in hot pink. Taylor was so busy looking around, she ran into him. He reached out a hand to steady her.
“I keep saying this,” she shook her head, “but wow.”
“I know.” He grimaced.
Taylor focused on the bright side. “Both bedrooms have a good layout. They’re spacious. They each have a bath. Big windows. Plenty of light.”
“So you think it has potential?” Jeremy asked cautiously.
Taylor walked back out into the main room. “Absolutely, I do. The only thing I don’t understand is why you aren’t living here right now.”

JEREMY STARED at Taylor, stunned. “Well that’s the first time anyone’s ever expressed any kind of enthusiasm for this place.”
A comfortable silence settled between them. “What do they usually say?” she asked.
He winced, recalling. “Everything from bulldoze the house and start over, to sell and find something habitable.”
She eyed him consideringly from beneath her thick black lashes. “They don’t get you want to turn this property around yourself?”
If only she’d been here all along…he could have used her innate understanding. “Not just turn it around,” he confided. “Make it into my dream home.”
Taylor shot him a quick, reproving glance. “Well, you’re never going to get there if you keep going at the rate you’ve been! You’re going to have to live here.”
She wasn’t kidding. “Without working plumbing or central air?”
Her frown softened and faded behind a slow smile. “I’m guessing you have the means to take care of both pretty promptly if you want to. I saw the electric wires running onto the ranch, so I know it wouldn’t be that big a deal to get the power going. I’m serious, Jeremy. If you want to make this dream come true, you’re going to have to work on it every single day, not just when the mood strikes.”
“Not so easy. I’m a doctor with a full medical practice.”
She shrugged. “Then hire it done, bit by bit.”
He dug in stubbornly. “I want to do it myself.”
She scoffed. “Sounds like procrastination to me.”
Procrastination was exactly what it was. The thing was, the way he was taking his time wasn’t bothering him near as much as it was everyone else in his life. His hands still thrust in the pockets of his trousers, he strode closer. “Suppose I’m content to bide my time? What then?”
She stepped nearer and taunted softly, “Then I would think you are afraid.”
Like hell he was. He met her challenge. “Of what?”
Complacency echoed in her low tone. “Failure.”
He shook his head at her. “I’m not a failure.”
“Maybe not as a physician,” she allowed, coming closer yet. She tipped her head back to better see into his face. She tapped a teasing finger against the center of his chest. “I can’t say the same about your nesting skills.”
He caught her hand before she could steal it away again, held it there. “Nesting is for women.”
He felt her resistance, even though she made no move to pull away. “Everyone needs a home, Jeremy.”
He mocked her. “Says the person without a place to go right now.”
This time, she did withdraw her hand from his easy grip. “I don’t have a permanent residence because I gave up the house I was renting in Virginia, to move to Los Angeles. I was thinking I might like to buy a place there, but I changed my mind after living there.”
Okay, maybe that was half the story.… “Too expensive?” he guessed.
“Too superficial. At least the part of Los Angeles I was in.”
He saw the vulnerability in her expression he knew she wanted to hide, and wished he had some way to protect her, without overstepping his bounds. “Was that the only reason you left in a hurry?”
She lifted the hair from the back of her neck and stepped outside. “Back to that again.”
He joined her on the patio, glad the heat of the sun was finally starting to lessen. He watched her take an elastic band from her wrist and use it to secure her glossy mane in a ponytail high on the back of her head. “I still think you’re running from something,” he said.
Taylor made a face at him. “Says the person who is afraid to put in a working septic system and central AC.”
“Okay,” Jeremy countered, before he could think. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll get that done. I’ll get this place move-in-ready. If you will agree to go out with me.”

TAYLOR FELT LIKE ONE of those bottom-weighted plastic clowns that took a punch and swung right back up. “Go out with you?” she echoed, before she could stop herself.
“As in date me. And don’t look so surprised. You can’t tell me you haven’t felt some serious vibes between us, too.”
Okay, so she had. But that did not mean she had to abandon all common sense and behave recklessly. The practical side of her was saying she was not signing up to get her heart crushed by him again. It had been bad enough, feeling like they had disappointed each other when they had just been pals.

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