Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Claimed By The Cowboy

Claimed By The Cowboy
Sarah M. Anderson
The reunion that pits city vs. country…and turns old friends to lovers.Josh Calhoun escaped the rat race to run his family’s farming operation. But when he returns to Chicago to mediate an inheritance dispute, he’s confronted with the past: Dr. Lucinda Wilde. As his best friend’s old girlfriend, she’s always been off-limits. But his best friend is gone, and now the unavoidable attraction between them makes Josh think it is time to stake his claim…Will being with the rugged cowboy feel like a betrayal of her sweetheart’s memory, or will his touch be this city girl’s long-awaited reawakening?


The reunion that pits city versus country...and turns old friends to lovers.
Josh Calhoun escaped the rat race to run his family’s farming operation. But when he returns to Chicago to mediate an inheritance dispute, he’s confronted with the past: Dr. Lucinda Wilde. As his best friend’s old girlfriend, she’s always been off-limits. But his best friend is gone, and now the unavoidable attraction between them makes Josh think it is time to stake his claim...
Will being with the rugged cowboy feel like a betrayal of her sweetheart’s memory, or will his touch be this city girl’s long-awaited reawakening?
Lucinda knew that she needed to do something.
Say something, maybe even shut the door.
But Josh had just short-circuited her brain.
“I have Thai,” he said, leaning back but not stepping clear. “A bottle of California chardonnay, and some ice cream from this new place I’ve heard of—Calhoun Creamery?” He winked at her. “I hope it’s good. I got you mint chocolate chip.”
He kissed her. He remembered what her favorite kind of ice cream was.
And, more than any of that, he was here.
Josh was still standing over her, smiling down as if he was enjoying her complete and total befuddlement. “I’ll just put this in the kitchen, shall I?”
“Oh. Yes.” She gestured in the general direction of her kitchen and managed to get her door shut. She was suddenly very aware of why, exactly, having Josh at her place made her so twitchy.
It was because they were alone.
* * *
Claimed by the Cowboy is part of the Dynasties: The Newports series—Passion and chaos consume a Chicago real estate empire.
Dear Reader (#ulink_d9600e71-180b-5610-998e-d4aee2467cbf),
Welcome to Chicago! I lived in Chicago for almost six years. Although it’s been over ten years since we left the Windy City, going back to Chicago was very much a literary homecoming for me, just like it was for Josh Calhoun.
Josh went to Chicago, fell in love and got married. But that life fell apart and he returned to the family’s dairy business in Iowa. Now he’s back for the first time in years to help out his friends, the Newports.
The last person he expects to run into is Lucy Wilde. Lucy had dated his best friend before the poor guy died of cancer and Josh and Lucy had a falling-out at the funeral. Dr. Lucinda Wilde is the preeminent cancer specialist in Chicago and in charge of Sutton Winchester’s health. When she sees Josh, Lucy’s reminded of everything she gave up back in school. She’s not sure she can handle this blast from the past, but Josh refuses to give up on their friendship a second time.
Claimed by the Cowboy is a sensual story about fighting for your dreams and falling in love. I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. Look for other Dynasties stories for more about the Newports and the Winchesters! Be sure to stop by sarahmanderson.com (http://www.sarahmanderson.com) and sign up for my newsletter at eepurl.com/nv39b (http://www.eepurl.com/nv39b) to join me as I say, Long Live Cowboys!
Sarah
Claimed by the Cowboy
Sarah M. Anderson


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SARAH M. ANDERSON may live east of the Mississippi River, but her heart lies out West on the Great Plains. Sarah’s book A Man of Privilege won an RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award in 2012.
Sarah spends her days having conversations with imaginary cowboys and American Indians. Find out more about Sarah’s love of cowboys and Indians at www.sarahmanderson.com (http://www.sarahmanderson.com) and sign up for the new-release newsletter at www.eepurl.com/nv39b (http://www.eepurl.com/nv39b).
To Charles Griemsman, who occasionally lets me run completely wild with a story. Thank you for trusting me with your stories!
Contents
Cover (#uce6b8e7a-851f-57e0-b7f7-db1bc9b01d49)
Back Cover Text (#u74df2425-f67c-5ee3-baa4-6732e6e904d9)
Introduction (#u2bfd46a5-ed73-5df3-ad87-0138c01960df)
Dear Reader (#ulink_e8f89e6a-d662-5e0e-acfb-94b6d893063e)
Title Page (#u5b076d74-e979-5259-8b82-2ead65a82b0c)
About the Author (#ucab533ed-7123-57dc-ad5e-38977adfcfbe)
Dedication (#ua297fc9c-40b0-5960-9bfd-bd4c51091a9d)
Chapter One (#ulink_a4cd6c73-7cb5-56e7-af4e-996119f55489)
Chapter Two (#ulink_0eea9c0e-5c9e-5b49-bc64-7ee56acf4d71)
Chapter Three (#ulink_f53b1366-b263-50d7-90fe-8712dff28aca)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#ulink_5609f6c7-c85d-5378-8a05-670417998438)
“May I help you?”
Josh Calhoun whipped off his Hollister-Whitney trucker hat and beamed a grin at the receptionist. “I sure hope so,” he said, unconsciously letting his country accent bleed through a little more. He couldn’t help it. This was the first time he’d been back in Chicago in five years and so much had changed.
Once, he’d tried to hide his accent. He’d tried to blend in with the big city.
Not anymore.
“I’m looking for the Newport boys,” he went on, leaning his head toward the receptionist. Her eyes widened and he thought he saw a little bit of color come to her cheeks. He wasn’t flirting—not intentionally—but Sydney, God rest her soul, had said that this was just his way. His down-home charm was what had attracted her to him in the first place.
Damn it. He hadn’t been in Chicago proper for more than thirty minutes and he was already thinking about Sydney again.
He hated this town.
“I’m Josh Calhoun,” he went on. “They asked me to stop by.”
Which was the only reason he had bothered to come back to Chicago. Brooks, Graham and Carson Newport were old college friends, and all three men had called him recently—apparently, without the others knowing that they were making the same call. Brooks Newport had asked for Josh’s help in dealing with a rather stunning set of revelations about Sutton Winchester—Josh was still having trouble putting it all in order.
Apparently, Sutton Winchester was Carson’s father and for a couple of months, Brooks and Graham had suspected that maybe the old real estate baron was their father, as well. But the paternity results had been conclusive—Brooks and Graham didn’t share a father with Carson.
Ever since Sutton’s involvement with their mother, Cynthia, had come to light, the Newport boys had been locked in a fierce battle with Sutton’s daughters—Eve, Grace and Nora Winchester. As best Josh could gather from scrolling through the news stories on his phone, Sutton was on his deathbed.
The Winchester girls—particularly Eve—were not that happy to have a newly discovered brother who had strong opinions about staking his newfound inheritance claims. The rumors on the internet were flying fast and furious, and Josh had had trouble figuring out what was real and what were strategic PR leaks.
Brooks wanted Josh’s legal advice on how to make Sutton pay for getting his mother pregnant with Carson and leaving her high and dry. His twin brother, Graham, wanted Josh’s help in finding out who their father was, since it wasn’t actually Sutton. And Carson, the baby of the family, desperately wanted Josh to come help calm Brooks down.
Josh wasn’t sure he could actually do any of that. He was a former corporate lawyer and a dairy farmer. He negotiated with representatives and senators on legislation governing the dairy industry. He ran a multi-million-dollar dairy company. Sure, he had a reputation for being ruthless behind his good-time smile, but he wasn’t a miracle worker.
Not for a single second did he think that anyone named Winchester would so much as give him the time of day. What did Chicago real-estate moguls care what a guy who made ice cream for a living thought? But he had to try. He owed the Newport boys.
The receptionist turned her attention to her computer screen. “Ah, yes. I see. Sadly, none of them are available.” She looked up at Josh and he noticed that she had some dimples. “Brooks is in a private meeting and asked not to be disturbed. Graham is off-site, as is Carson.”
“Off-site?” Chicago wasn’t exactly a two-horse town. Off-site could mean anywhere. “Can you tell me where Graham and Carson are? They are expecting me.” Irritation snaked up the back of his neck. At their request, he’d sucked it up and braved coming back to Chicago for the first time since the funeral, and they weren’t even there to meet him?
The receptionist looked contrite. “I’m not at liberty to say where Graham is. However, Carson is on-site at the new children’s hospital that the Newports are funding and constructing. I’d be happy to give you directions to the work site or...” She batted her eyelashes at him as her dimples deepened. “You’re more than welcome to wait here.”
Just as he had over the course of the last five years whenever a pretty lady made eyes at him, Josh did a gut check and waited to see if he’d have a reaction. Any reaction.
But there was nothing. Nothing other than the simple observation that this was a pretty girl who was flirting with him. He felt no attraction, no desire. There was absolutely no interest.
He ignored the black loneliness that existed in place of temptation and slapped on one of his best smiles. “I do need to speak with Carson,” he said in his most apologetic tone. It wasn’t the receptionist’s fault that Josh was incapable of feeling anything.
The disappointment that crossed over her face was fleeting. “Let me get you those directions,” she said in a much more professional tone.
“Thank you kindly,” Josh said.
He was vastly out of his league and he knew it. He had vowed never to come back to Chicago, but there he was. The Newport boys were the only people on this earth who could’ve gotten him back inside city limits. They had been there for him at the hospital and at the funeral. In all likelihood, they’d probably saved his life. Not that Josh would ever tell anyone that, but when the people he cared for kept dying on him, it made it hard to put on a brave face and keep moving forward.
He was Josh Calhoun, heir to the Calhoun Creamery fortune and its current CEO. To the rest of the world, the fact that he had buried his parents and then his wife didn’t matter as much as being one of the most powerful dairy owners in the country.
Well, it mattered to him. Sydney mattered to him. And when she’d been taken away from him, the Newport boys had been there.
Brooks, Graham and Carson mattered to him. It was the only reason he was in this godforsaken city, because if something happened to any of them, well, it just might be the end of the world. His world.
“Here you go,” the receptionist said. It was a pity that Josh couldn’t work up any attraction for her, but he just couldn’t. “Shall I let Carson know that you’re on your way?”
“Much obliged,” Josh said, settling his hat on his head. “It’s been a while since I drove in the city—how long do you think it’ll take me to get there?”
The receptionist turned her attention back to her computer. After a few keystrokes, she said, “At this time of day, it shouldn’t take you more than forty minutes.”
Josh didn’t try to hide his groan. Back home in Cedar Point, Iowa, forty minutes would put him three towns over. Here, forty minutes on a good traffic day would take him all of three miles.
The dimples were back on the receptionist. “It could be worse—it’s only two in the afternoon.”
“I know.” He touched the brim of his hat and headed back out to his truck. It stuck out like a sore thumb there, parked among the sleek Jaguars and shiny sports cars of all sorts. But he’d had his truck since high school. It’d outlasted college, marriage and his wife’s death. He wasn’t about to get a new vehicle to meet someone else’s preconceived notions of what a multimillionaire business owner should drive.
Because, most days, Josh didn’t feel like a multimillionaire business owner. Most days he was up by four checking on the cattle in the milking operations of the Calhoun Creamery farm. He got crap on his boots and broke a sweat nearly every day. The only break he got was times like now. He’d been on his way home from Washington, DC, after meeting with a lobbyist for the National Dairy Council about what regulations they wanted to see included in the FDA’s new organic standards.
As the owner of one of the largest dairies in the country and the CEO of the Calhoun Creamery, Josh’s word carried some weight in those discussions. It was the only time he left the dairy farm.
Sighing heavily, Josh fired up the old truck and merged back into the hell that was Chicago traffic. He hoped the Newport boys appreciated the sacrifices he was making. And he was thankful that the traffic was just bad enough that he had to really pay attention. People in Iowa did not run lights like they did in Chicago. There, when the light turned red, people stopped. Here, when the light turned red, people sped up. He almost got rear-ended three separate times because he couldn’t make himself run the red.
Finally, the new children’s hospital work site came into view. It didn’t look much like a children’s hospital at this point—half of the exterior didn’t even have walls. Josh studied his directions and saw that the receptionist had made a note that he was to pull down a side street and park in the back. She was a good receptionist. He almost wished that he’d been able to feel something for her. If he was going to be stuck in Chicago, a little distraction could go a long way.
He parked in the construction zone and there, at least, his truck blended in a little better. Josh made himself a promise. He would only stay in Chicago as long as it took to help the Newport boys get some of their issues sorted out. The moment he stopped being useful, he was out of there.
He’d worked too damned hard for a sense of equilibrium after Sydney’s death. He knew better than to tempt fate again, and he simply did not have the mental energy to let himself fall into another deep depression.
If it were anyone but the Newports, he wouldn’t be there.
But he was already there. So he better get this over with.
* * *
“But you understand that he’s not dead yet,” Dr. Lucinda Wilde said, trying her very best to keep a grip on her temper. She rarely got mad at patients—it was a waste of time and emotional energy. “I can only prolong his life if he stays in the hospital, under constant care. You do see that?”
Carson Newport stood to the doctor’s left, his hands on his hips and a determined set to his eyes. On the doctor’s right, Eve Winchester was glaring at Lucinda, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed with anger. All around them, the sounds of construction filled the air—as did dust. So much dust. She was going to have to shower before she went on her rounds again.
Lucinda had to hope that the construction materials being used here at the new children’s hospital weren’t carcinogenic. She vastly preferred her own hospital, where everything was already hospital-sterile. And she was not happy about having to leave her patients to trek halfway across town to mediate yet another dispute between the Newports and the Winchesters about her patient, Sutton Winchester.
Lucinda sighed and pushed her glasses back up her nose. She would have a better chance convincing a pack of wild dogs than Sutton Winchester’s children that the scion of the Winchester fortune needed to stay in the hospital.
Never in her nine years as a practicing oncologist had she run into such a stubborn set of relatives. She adored her job and Chicago, but days like these had her muttering “city folk” to herself and longing for the wide-open spaces of Cedar Point, Iowa. Even cows were more reasonable than this.
“I understand that you’re not interested in doing your job,” Eve Winchester said in a tight voice.
“There’s no need to be rude,” Carson Newport snapped. “The good doctor is doing her job. No one lives forever—especially not bitter old men.”
Eve wheeled on Carson and most likely would have demolished him in a verbal barrage of slings and arrows, but a voice interrupted them. “What seems to be the trouble?”
Lucinda froze. Absolutely, completely froze as a voice out of her past floated up from out of nowhere and made her blood run hot and cold at the same time.
It couldn’t be. It simply wasn’t possible that she’d heard him. Not after all this time. Not right now, when she was barely keeping herself together in the face of one of her most challenging cases yet.
But then Carson turned and said, “Josh!”
And a little bit of Lucinda died because she wasn’t imagining this. She couldn’t be. Josh Calhoun himself had walked out of her nightmares and into her line of sight.
Oh, God. Her breath caught in her throat as Josh approached. He looked exactly the same as he had the last time she’d seen him. He was wearing jeans and a red plaid shirt. His longish brown hair stuck out around the base of his ratty-looking ball cap that looked exactly like the one he’d worn every single day back in school.
No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.
Josh Calhoun—a ghost from her past that she never wanted to face again—smiled widely at their small group.
Until his gaze landed on her.
Lucinda wasn’t surprised when that good-time grin of his died on the vine. After all, they hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms when Lucinda had made an absolute fool of herself on the worst day of her life and Josh had turned her down flat.
They stared at each other and Lucinda was at least a little relieved that he was just as surprised to see her as she was to see him.
And then everything got worse. Because Josh Calhoun, the boy who’d shattered her already broken heart, lifted one corner of his mouth in what she knew all too well was his real smile.
Oh. Oh, my. Something about him had changed. He was a little taller and a heck of a lot more broad in the shoulders. His chin was sharper now and his eyes...
Josh Calhoun had grown up.
Lucinda did not allow herself to feel a rush of instant attraction. Lust had no place in her life. It was an inconvenient emotion at best, and she only had so much emotional energy to spare after spending her days as the head of the oncology department at Midwest Regional Medical Center. She couldn’t waste a bit of it, certainly not on the likes of Josh Calhoun, the last person she had allowed herself to lust over.
But watching Josh’s lips curve into that real smile instead of the big one he used when he was befriending every single person in the room? Lust hit her low and hard, and she wasn’t ready for it. She wasn’t ready for him. Not now, not ever.
But she refused to let any of that show. She didn’t suck in air, even though her lungs were burning. She didn’t allow her skin and circulatory system to betray her in any way. She didn’t even bat a single eyelash at him.
He was nothing to her. She didn’t need him; she didn’t want him, and she’d be damned if she let him know how much he’d hurt her back in high school.
Carson’s scowl broke into a wide smile as he said, “You made it!” Then he and Josh wrapped their arms around each other and performed a few manly thumps on each other’s back.
Lucinda couldn’t help but glance at Eve during this display of masculine affection. Eve was rolling her eyes.
“Man, I’m glad to see you,” Carson said to Josh. “Josh, this is Eve Winchester—it turns out that she’s my sister.”
“Stop telling people that,” Eve snapped.
Lucinda sighed heavily. She’d heard variations on this particular theme over and over again whenever it came time to make a decision about Sutton Winchester’s care. The Winchester daughters—Nora, Eve and Grace—refused to acknowledge that Carson was their half brother and did everything within their power to make sure that he did not have any say in family decisions.
But Carson Newport wasn’t exactly taking this decision lying down.
Just as he did every time Eve threw this insult in his face, Carson opened his mouth to retort that she didn’t have any choice in the situation. Lucinda knew the script by heart.
Josh didn’t. Instead, he cut Carson off with a warm smile and an extended hand. “Ms. Winchester, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m sorry that we can’t meet under better circumstances, but Carson has told me how impressed he is with how you’ve been handling all the new developments.”
Lucinda had no idea if this was a true statement or not. Maybe it didn’t matter. Josh’s words went off like a little bomb in the conversation, completely resetting the discourse.
She shouldn’t be surprised. Josh Calhoun had always been the peacemaker of their high school. He had a way of finding the common ground and making everyone happy.
Everyone except her.
“He...what?” Eve stared down at Josh’s outstretched hand. “Who are you?”
If Josh was insulted by this lack of manners, he didn’t show it. “Beg your pardon—I’m Josh Calhoun, of the Calhoun Creamery. I went to college with the Newport boys and I count them as some of my oldest friends. I understand that things have been challenging recently and I wanted to stop by and see if I could do anything to help.” As he said this last bit, his gaze shifted back to Lucinda.
Oh, come on—was he seriously including her in that statement? If that’s what he thought, he had another think coming.
But he was the Newports’ oldest friend? Figured. As if the Winchester/Newport feud wasn’t enough of a tangled web to be caught in, Josh Calhoun had to go and add another thread. A big, fat, complicated thread.
Carson jumped in, taking advantage of Eve’s stunned silence. “Josh, this is Dr. Lucinda Wilde. She’s the oncologist who’s overseeing Sutton’s care. If there’s one thing that Eve and I can agree on...” At this, Eve snorted. “It’s that Dr. Wilde has managed to stabilize our father. Without her, he would probably already be dead.”
“Dr. Lucinda Wilde,” Josh said, rolling each of the words off his tongue as if he was trying to figure out which part was the strangest. He leaned forward, his hand out. “Lucinda? And you’re an oncologist now? I should have guessed.”
She did not want to touch him. So she nodded her head and stuck her hands behind her back. “Josh. Sorry,” she added in a not-sorry voice. “Germs, you know.”
Eve and Carson shared a look. “Do you two know each other?” Carson asked.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to cop to knowing Josh. She didn’t want anyone in Chicago to know about their tangled past, and she absolutely didn’t want to be thinking about Josh Calhoun, past or present.
Sadly, it seemed as though she didn’t have much of a choice. “Yeah,” Josh said, letting his hand hang out there for a second before he lowered it back to his side. “Well, I knew Lucy Wilde.”
She shuddered at the sound of her name. She’d left Lucy Wilde behind when she’d left Iowa, and there was no going back. “We went to the same high school,” she explained to Carson and Eve. “But only for two years.” She shot a warning glare at Josh because if he took it upon himself to add to that simple truth, she might have to kick him somewhere very important.
He notched an eyebrow at her and something in his eyes changed, and she knew—knew—that he remembered exactly how things had gone down between them. Or not gone down, as the case may be. But, thankfully, all he said was “Yup.”
“I’m very happy for the high school reunion, but none of this brings us any closer to getting my father out of the hospital,” Eve Winchester snapped.
Josh—without looking away from her—asked, “Is that a possibility?”
Right. Lucinda had a purpose here that had nothing to do with Josh Calhoun or Lucy Wilde. She had ventured out to this dusty, half-finished work site to try to talk some sense into Carson and Eve because they were the most invested players in this family drama.
Not that that was saying a lot.
“It would be best for the patient if he remained in the oncology ward at Midwest,” Lucinda said as all three looked at her. “I want to keep him under my direct supervision, and there are several experimental treatments I would like to try—with his consent—that have the potential to increase his life expectancy. There are promising developments with low-dose naltrexone...”
“I don’t understand why these experimental treatments have to be done in the hospital,” Eve snapped, cutting Lucinda off. “Every day that he’s in a public space—and no, you can’t promise me that his privacy will be respected in that hospital—it becomes that much more likely that someone will access his records, take pictures of him while he’s incapacitated or bribe a nurse for information they can use against him in the court of public opinion.” She paused and shot daggers at Carson. “I want him home where I know that he’ll be protected and safe.”
Ah, so they were back on the script again. Josh looked to Lucinda for a reply, but she was unable to provide any other details of her patient’s medical condition to him. She was not about to break her Hippocratic oath for him.
Instead, it was Carson who answered. “We’ve been over this, Eve. He’s sick. He belongs in a hospital.” He turned to Josh. “He’s got inoperable lung cancer—years of smoking and hard living, I guess. It’s spread to his lymph nodes. Stage three.”
Josh had the decency to wince.
“But,” Eve said as she jumped back in, “he’s not going to die tomorrow.”
“You can’t just cut the cancer out?” Josh asked Lucinda.
She glared at him even harder. “I cannot share anything about my patient’s condition with a nonfamily member.”
Carson rolled his eyes at her. “As Dr. Wilde has explained to us, due to the original tumor’s location, she can’t perform surgery and traditional chemo, and radiation won’t be powerful enough to eradicate the malignant cells that have spread to the lymph system.”
Josh turned to Eve. “I’m so sorry to hear this,” he said in a gentle voice. “This must be hard for you and your sisters.”
Eve appeared stunned by this olive branch—and Lucinda appreciated someone short-circuiting the bickering.
Josh Calhoun was the same as he’d always been, that much was clear. This was what he did. She’d seen him talk down two guys in the middle of a fight so that, within minutes, they were all sharing a soda and laughing about good times or whatever it was men laughed about while one was wiping the other’s blood off his knuckles.
Once, she’d admired him for that. Okay, honestly—she’d more than admired him. She’d been fascinated by him. She’d never been much to look at, but Josh had never treated her like the know-it-all nerd everyone else did.
Well, almost everyone else. Josh’s best friend in high school, Gary, had asked her out after she’d verbally smacked down some bullies who were mocking Gary for being unable to lift his own backpack after a chemo treatment. And since no one else had ever even remotely looked at Lucy Wilde as someone they might like to go see a movie with—much less kiss—she’d said yes.
Lucinda shook her head out of the past. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to think of Gary—or Josh? Years. It hadn’t been that hard. She’d been busy with her medical career and dealing with the likes of the Winchesters and Newports. And the Winchesters and Newports took all of her attention.
She had, of course, expressed her concerns to Sutton’s family—that was part and parcel of her job. She cared not only for her patients but their loved ones, as well. She’d had decades of helping people live and die—long before she’d become a doctor.
Long before she’d humiliated herself in front of Josh Calhoun.
But now that she thought of it, she couldn’t remember witnessing anyone else expressing their sympathies to any of the Winchester daughters. Certainly not Brooks Newport or his brothers. Carson’s grim acceptance of the situation had, until this moment, been as good as it got.
“Thank you,” Eve replied quietly. Then she turned her attention to Carson. “I’m not giving up on him. I just want what’s best for him and I don’t think being in the hospital is it.”
“What are the options?” Josh asked.
Why did he have to be here? Why did he have to be forging a peace between Eve and Carson?
Why did he have to be reminding her of things she’d tried so desperately to forget?
It was Carson who answered for her. “Eve and her sisters—our sisters—think it would be best to take him home. I’m not comfortable pulling him out of the hospital.” He stared at Eve. “We have questions and I want him to live long enough to get some answers out of him.”
It was blisteringly clear who the “we” was—Carson and his brothers.
Lucinda wanted to massage her throbbing temples.
Eve glared at him. “What you think doesn’t matter. He’s not really your father. You don’t know him and you don’t love him like I do—like my sisters do.” Her gaze swung back to Lucinda and she looked more determined than ever, which was saying something. “Money is no object. I can have a private medical facility that meets your specifications set up at his estate in a matter of days. I want him out of the hospital and safely at home. And if you won’t help move him,” she threatened, “I will find a doctor who can.”
“Beg your pardon,” Josh interrupted in that gentle tone that Lucinda didn’t really appreciate. “Does he want to stay in the hospital?”
It was a deceptively simple question and Lucinda knew it. What Sutton Winchester wanted was to go home and pretend he was not on death’s door. He never wanted to see her face or the inside of a hospital ever again. But that was not what was best for him.
“Of course, he doesn’t,” Eve stated flatly.
“Because if he’s got the means to be treated at home, maybe that would be best for everyone,” Josh said as if this were the obvious conclusion instead of a solution that entailed an unnecessary health risk.
Well, that went sideways on her. Lucinda gave him a dull look and Carson was none too pleased at this announcement.
Undaunted by their open hostility, Josh went on, “Carson, you’ve got to realize that if he’s more comfortable, he’ll likely be willing to answer some of those questions, don’t you think?”
She wanted to strangle him. It was bad enough that he was here and worse that she was having to talk to him. But for him to come down on the wrong side?
That, however, wasn’t the worst of it. No, what was the worst was that she could see Carson start to waver. Damn it. She knew there were many unanswered questions and she also knew that, currently, Sutton was in no mood to unburden his soul.
Carson Newport had been her ally in keeping Sutton Winchester in the hospital. But, before her eyes, she could see him switch sides. “Well...”
Josh didn’t wait for Carson to talk himself out of it. “If it won’t compromise his care, that is.” He turned his attention to Lucinda and turned on his all-American charm. “If Eve can get the room set up to your specifications, would you be willing to release Mr. Winchester? I know that no one wants to risk his health. That has to come first. I think we can all agree that your word is final, can’t we?” He glanced around their small circle, gathering approval to him like a cloak.
Lucinda blinked at him. Was that the bone he was going to throw her—that she had the final word? Very neatly, Josh Calhoun had sidestepped, diffused or completely undercut weeks of bitter arguments—and boxed her into a corner.
What she wanted to say was that he was out of his ever-loving mind and he could go crawl back into whatever hole he’d crawled out of.
But she didn’t. She had a professional reputation to maintain, and she would be damned if she let Josh Calhoun take that away from her, too. “In no way would moving him at this stage of his treatment be a good idea,” she said firmly.
This fell on deaf ears. “Okay,” Carson announced. “If we can get a room set up in his home, we can move him. But our brothers aren’t going to like this.”
“Graham and Brooks are absolutely not my brothers,” Eve said just as her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and Lucinda saw a small smile break through her icy demeanor. “Dr. Wilde, if you could get a list of equipment we’ll need, I’ll have everything else taken care of.”
“You do understand that this will be very expensive, don’t you?” Lucinda tried a last-ditch attempt. “You’ll need twenty-four-hour care to monitor him, as well—and not some random home-health nurse. He needs oncology specialists around him at all time.”
Eve and Carson shared a look. “That’s fine,” Eve said with a smile that made Lucinda’s blood run cold. “There’s plenty of room at the house. I’ll have the guest quarters prepared for your stay. Hire whomever you need.”
“Ms. Winchester!” Lucinda gaped at her in shock. When had she lost complete and total control?
Josh cleared his throat. Oh, yeah. The moment he’d walked back into her life.
But she didn’t get any further than that. Carson stepped forward and said, “That sounds like a good idea to me. Would you be able to do that, Dr. Wilde?”
This simply could not get worse. She had already been dragged into more than enough Winchester/Newport drama. Personally supervising Sutton Winchester’s care at home would only double and then triple that.
She had opened her mouth to find the words to politely yet firmly refuse when Josh spoke up. “At the very least,” he said, shooting her one of his big smiles that did absolutely nothing to her, “would you be able to see him settled?”
“I’m the head of the oncology department at Midwest,” she told him with an edge to her voice. “I cannot simply disappear to a private home for days or what could even turn out to be weeks at a time.”
Carson gave her a smile that bordered on predatory. “I’m sure, for an appropriate donation to that new cancer pavilion expansion they’ve been planning, they’ll be more than happy to help you find a way to make this work into your schedule.”
In other words, her medical services were going to the highest bidder—and there were no bidders higher in the greater Chicago region than the Winchesters and the Newports. The Newports were already funding this new children’s hospital. In the grand scheme of things, the cost of an expanded cancer pavilion meant nothing to them or the Winchesters.
Lucinda absolutely did not want to be a pawn in this tug-of-war between the two families, but that pavilion would do a lot of good for a lot of people. Damn it all to hell. “I suppose I could move a few appointments around and take a couple of days. But I won’t compromise anyone else’s care. And if I don’t believe your father will receive excellent care at home, I won’t allow him to be discharged.”
Eve sniffed, and there was determination in her voice as she said, “Fine. Do whatever you have to do. I’ll have the guest quarters set up.” Abruptly, she turned away and began texting rapidly.
Lucinda sighed. She turned to Carson—and Josh. “I just want what’s best for my patient,” she reminded the men.
“It sounds like you’re what’s best for the patient,” Josh said as if he were seriously complimenting her.
Lucinda had never physically assaulted anyone in her entire life, but she was damned close to taking a swing at Josh. That did it. He needed to get his nose out of this medical situation—and her business—before she lost what was left of her temper. “Can I talk to you for a second?” she demanded, not bothering to smooth her tone over with a smile.
Carson’s eyebrows jumped up, but Josh showed no sign that he understood the danger. “Sure.”
Good. Great. She was going to tell Josh Calhoun off the way she should have done seventeen years ago, and then she was going to get on with her life.
Without him.
Two (#ulink_88204b00-8d3c-5cb9-b63f-ea3cf4e7ad51)
Josh stood there for a moment in a state of total shock. His mind had to be playing tricks on him. Chicago had to be playing tricks on him. Because there was just no reasonable explanation for why he was here with Lucy Wilde. He stared after her as she stalked away.
“I take it you two aren’t the best of friends,” Carson commented drily as he watched Josh watch Lucy.
“Probably safe to say that,” Josh admitted. But once, they had been. Lucy and Gary and Josh. Three peas in a pod, his grandpa had always said. Until it’d just been the two of them. And then Josh had done what had been the hardest thing he’d done in his life—say no to Lucy Wilde.
Carson pondered Josh’s statement. “Old girlfriend?”
“No, nothing like that.” Which was not entirely the truth, but Josh got the feeling that Lucy might personally tear him limb from limb if he gave anyone any indication of how close they’d been once. “Can you give me a few minutes?”
A grin twisted Carson’s lips. “Given how she was trying to kill you with looks alone, you might need more than a few minutes.”
“I didn’t come here for her,” Josh said in as good-natured a tone as he could manage. “Let me get this settled, and then we can go somewhere and get a beer and you can fill me in on what the hell has been happening around here.” As if he could just “settle” the matter of Lucy when she was clearly out for blood.
Carson looked defeated. “That’s going to take a lot more than one beer,” he said. “Go on. Another five minutes isn’t going to change anything.”
“Thanks.” Josh took a deep breath and began to follow Lucy Wilde.
Except she wasn’t Lucy, not anymore. Lucy had been a wide-eyed, freckled girl who had been wildly in love with his best friend, Gary Everly. Josh had actually liked her—he’d liked her quite a bit. She’d had a dry sense of humor and a sharp wit that she only used when people had her backed into a corner, which they did at their own risk. She’d been smart—smarter than either of the boys.
And she’d loved Gary. It hadn’t mattered that he’d been sick. More times than he could count, Josh had caught Lucy gazing at Gary with unabashed adoration. It had never bothered him. Really. Lucy had been one of the best things to happen to Gary, and Josh had not begrudged his childhood friend the little bit of happiness Lucy was able to bring him in a dark time.
Josh had tried to make Gary happy, too. Minigolf, cow tipping, the movies—together, they’d made a hell of a group, tearing up Cedar Point, Iowa. He’d had the car and the Calhoun cash; Gary had had his bucket list; and Lucy had kept them from doing anything truly stupid. In fact, if Josh was remembering things correctly, it’d been Lucy who’d passed judgment on whomever Josh had dated. A lot of the time, they’d been a foursome.
But a lot of the time...it’d just been the three of them. Him, her and Gary.
Until Gary had died. Four days before his eighteenth birthday. Of leukemia. Because his folks hadn’t been able to afford to bring him to Chicago or anyplace that had a really good oncology department.
Not that it would have mattered. After all, Sydney had had access to the best medical care in the country and it hadn’t been enough to save her.
Josh was already clinging to his sanity by his fingernails just being back in Chicago, but to suddenly find himself confronted with Lucy Wilde and Gary’s memory was almost too much. He wanted to bail and go back to his cows and stay far away from the people he loved because that was the best way of keeping them safe.
He did not want Lucy Wilde to remind him of yet another person he’d lost.
Not that he had a lot of choice in the matter. He walked toward her slowly so that he could try to put his thoughts in order. This was not the same girl he remembered. Oh, sure, she still had on a massive pair of eyeglasses that gave her an owlish appearance. And the only thing that seemed to have changed about her stick-straight blond hair was that she had pulled it up into a bun. But half of her hair had worked itself free and fell around her face and shoulders, making her look ethereal.
Josh almost smiled. Lucy had never had a head for fashion or style and, given that she was wearing a shapeless doctor’s coat over equally shapeless black trousers and a mannish blue button-up blouse, that hadn’t changed, either.
But the fire in her eyes? That was something new. Something that had made him come to a screeching halt and stare at her in openmouthed wonder.
The way he had the last time he’d seen her.
She reached her destination and spun, glaring at him. Her toe began to tap and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d pulled out a phone and checked the time.
“It’s good to see you again, Lucy,” he began.
He didn’t get any further than that. “What are you doing here?” At least she kept her voice to a fierce whisper.
“Like I said, I’m friends with the Newport boys. They called me and asked for help sorting out this mess.”
“Don’t give me that,” she snapped. “Because rolling up here and turning on all of your charm to convince my patient’s family that he would be best served outside the hospital is not exactly how I wanted to see you again, Joshua Calhoun.”
Ouch. She was busting out the Joshua already. So much for warm, fuzzy reunions. But he couldn’t help himself. Teasing Lucy had been so much fun because she always gave so much better than she got. He heard himself slipping right back into it. “So, how did you want to see me again?”
If looks could kill, he would probably need emergency medical help right now. “I didn’t.”
There wasn’t a single thing about this situation that should make him smile, but he did. “I’m just going to go out on a limb here, but you seem upset with me.”
Her eyes widened at the challenge. “Oh? Do you think? No. You obviously don’t. Because if you did think, you would remember...” Abruptly, her voice trailed off into a new emotional place, replacing the anger that flamed out all over her face.
It almost looked painful.
He didn’t like that pained look. Because he did remember. He remembered quite clearly. What had happened between them—it wasn’t the sort of thing a man forgot. He may not think about it every single day of his life. But, no, he hadn’t forgotten about going to Gary’s funeral and Lucy clinging to his hand the whole time and then pulling him out back at the wake and telling him that she needed him, needed him so badly because she hurt so much and she just wanted to not hurt and would he...
“Oh, my God,” Lucy gasped, recoiling in horror. “Stop. Stop right there.”
Josh shook himself. He was pretty sure he hadn’t said anything out loud. “What?”
“Don’t.” Somehow her eyes got even wider and, behind her thick glasses, even more owlish. Her back straightened and he realized that, despite the fact that she was wearing an almost sexless doctor’s uniform, she wasn’t the same girl he remembered. She was taller and, with her shoulders squared, he could see that a woman’s curves filled out her body.
If she’d had those curves back then...
“Don’t what?” he asked, although he knew that was a lame dodge. She’d always been so incredibly perceptive, and as for him—well, he’d always been an open book. He’d only ever been able to hide one thing from her—exactly how much he’d liked her.
The only other woman he’d never been able to hide anything from was Sydney.
Which meant Lucy had realized exactly what he’d been thinking.
“Just don’t, Josh,” she finished weakly. Then, she blushed. Hard. So hard that she went scarlet from the tips of her ears to the base of her neck. Lucy was so tomato red that he didn’t even need to look at her hands to know they’d turned bright red, too.
“Lucy...”
But whatever vulnerability he’d glimpsed was gone in an instant. “Don’t you dare ‘Lucy’ me,” she interrupted. Everything about her body tightened as if she were fighting off some urge. He had no idea whether she was going to punch him or what. “I am Dr. Lucinda Wilde now, and so help me, Josh Calhoun, if you roll up in here and in any way, shape or form compromise the care of my patients, I will personally make sure the rest of your life is a living hell.”
She spun on her heel and he knew she was done with him, but, damn it, he wasn’t willing to let it go. He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Lucy, it doesn’t have to be like this.”
She froze. Her gaze dropped down to where he had her by the hand. Her skin was warm and soft against his, softer than he’d expected it to be. He closed his fingers around hers and, without really thinking about it, pulled her closer to him.
A feeling so unfamiliar, so foreign that he couldn’t name it right away, hit him low in the gut. Lucy. This was Lucy, and against all odds he’d missed her. He took another step into her, closing the distance between them.
Dear God in heaven, what he was feeling right now? Desire. Want.
Need.
Josh Calhoun did a gut check and, for the first time in five years, his gut told him to go for it.
For Lucy Wilde, of all people.
His heart began to pound and his skin began to prickle. He inhaled deeply. She smelled of hospitals and antiseptics and, underneath that, a hint of something sweet, and all he wanted to do was lean his head down and taste her to find out what that sweetness was.
Then she looked up at him, her light blue eyes impossibly wide. “Yes, it does.”
He wasn’t going to accept that. “Have dinner with me.”
That made her laugh—and pull her hand away from his grip. “Seriously? Am I not making myself clear? I thought you were smarter than this, Josh. I don’t want to see you. We’re not friends anymore.”
“We are.” Her eyeballs bugged out of her head at this declaration. “Well, we can be again.”
“No,” she said softly, turning away from him. This time he didn’t try to stop her. “After what happened? No, we can’t.”
He watched her go, her words echoing louder in his head the farther away she got.
She hated him. Well, he supposed he deserved nothing less than her contempt. She’d needed him to comfort her after her high school sweetheart had died and he’d...
He’d forced himself to turn her down. He’d embarrassed her then and he’d embarrassed her again, that much was obvious. She only ever got that red when she lost her temper.
But she didn’t realize how hard it’d been to say no to her. How much it’d hurt to know that he’d added to her pain. To have twice watched Lucy Wilde walk away from him and know that he’d screwed it up.
Damn it all to hell and back.
He watched a construction worker scurry out of Lucy’s way right before she disappeared around a corner. He should let it go. She’d made her position more than clear. Just as she had seventeen years ago when he’d rejected her.
But it’d been different then. He’d been a kid in mourning for his best friend and due to leave Cedar Point in just a few weeks for college in Chicago. He’d rationalized that a clean break was best for all of them.
Now?
Now his gut was telling him that maybe it was okay to look at another woman and feel something. Something good. Something right.
He hadn’t felt anything in so long...
No. He wasn’t going to let Lucy Wilde walk away from him a second time with so much unsaid between them. He wasn’t the same confused kid he’d been. He was a man now and he knew what he wanted.
He made his way back over to where Carson had been waiting for him, texting on his phone the whole time. With any luck, Carson hadn’t been paying attention to his and Lucy’s conversation.
“That seemed to go well,” he said without looking up.
Josh sighed. One thing was abundantly clear.
His luck had run out.
* * *
Lucinda did her very best to ban all thoughts of Josh Calhoun from her mind as she moved through her afternoon. She’d spent more time at the children’s hospital site than she’d meant to and was behind schedule. She hated being behind schedule. Things happened on time or there were dire consequences in her world. When it came to the health of her patients, waiting could be fatal.
This was what she kept telling herself as she moved around Midwest’s oncology ward, her hair still damp from the quick shower she’d taken to wash the construction dust off. Like any other day, some people were making progress and some people were losing the battle. Mrs. Adamczak was sitting up in bed and smiling for the first time in weeks. Mr. Gadhavi, however, had not responded to treatment and, as hard as it would be, Lucinda was going to recommend that he be sent home for hospice.
This was where her focus needed to be—on the people she could still help. That did not include Gary Everly and it did not include Josh Calhoun.
It did, however, include Sutton Winchester.
It was madness that she was even going to consider allowing him to continue his treatment away from this hospital. If it were any other person in the entire city of Chicago, it wouldn’t be an option. It wouldn’t even be a figment of someone’s imagination.
But Sutton Winchester wasn’t any other person. And his children weren’t going to let her forget it.
But before she could even get to his room, she was stopped by the vice president of Midwest, John Jackson, outside the nurses station on the oncology ward. “Dr. Wilde,” Jackson said with an unnaturally bright look to his eyes. “Just the doctor I was looking for!”
Lucinda didn’t have time for ego stroking right now. She knew that if Jackson worked up a proper head of steam, he could go on for hours. “How much money did they offer you?”
Jackson pulled up short and blinked at her. “How did you...”
“Because I’m not stupid, Mr. Jackson. I was there when Eve Winchester decided that this was going to be a reality whether I thought it was a good idea or not. You should merely count yourself lucky that you’re going to get the money for the cancer pavilion expansion out of it, shouldn’t you?”
Jackson didn’t know her very well and it was clear that he didn’t know how he was supposed to take this attitude. But he hadn’t made it to being a vice president of a hospital without understanding how to cover his tracks. “Just think of all the people that we’ll be able to help,” he said, putting all available lipstick on this pig of a situation.
“Yes, yes—I know. I hope you at least negotiated for the entire cost of construction?”
“The Newports and the Winchesters have agreed to $250 million!” The man actually did a little dance. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Whatever you did, Dr. Wilde, do you think you could do it again? We could use a new cardiac cath lab, too.”
She glared at him hard enough that he took a step backward. God, this whole situation had left her with a bad taste in her mouth. What else could go wrong today?
At that exact moment, the ward doors opened and a cart laden with floral arrangements was wheeled in. This was normally a happy time of her day as she got to see the flowers bring a bit of hope to people’s eyes.
“As I said to Mr. Winchester’s children, I will only allow him to be treated in his home if they can get a room set up to my specifications and if it won’t compromise the treatment of my other patients,” she told Jackson as she kept an eye on the beautiful arrangements being off-loaded. She shouldn’t like the flowers. She never got any, and the last time anyone had actually given her flowers had been at her senior prom with Gary.
He’d only been able to stand for the photos and for one dance. He’d gotten her a corsage, though. And then he made Josh Calhoun dance with her several other times throughout the night.
The last bouquet on the cart was a small arrangement of sunflowers and daisies—bright and sunny and full of the promise of tomorrow. The delivery guy set the bouquet on the nurses station counter and Lucinda saw one of her favorite nurses, Elena, glance at the card. Elena’s eyes got very wide very fast, and then she looked up at Lucinda and smiled.
Elena must have a new boyfriend. That was sweet of him to send flowers to work.
Lucinda turned her attention back to Mr. Jackson. “...find a way to make this work,” he was saying in his best salesman tone.
Elena held the card out to another nurse, who read the name on it and started giggling. “Fine,” she told Jackson. Because who was she? Just Sutton Winchester’s doctor, that’s all. Just the one person who wanted him to get the best treatment in the best place from the best people.
Apparently, that made her the bad guy there.
Well, she knew when it was time to cut her losses. You couldn’t hold back the tides and you couldn’t hold back Eve Winchester when she made up her mind about something.
Jackson was still making noises about pavilions, patients and money when Elena carried the sunny bouquet over to Lucinda. “It’s for you,” she said.
Lucinda wasn’t offended by the nurse’s awestruck tone. She didn’t believe it, either. “Seriously?” She grabbed the card out of Elena’s hand. Yes, that was her name on the envelope. Typed, not handwritten: “Dr. Lucinda Wilde.”
“When will you have a list of things Mr. Winchester needs to get ready?” Jackson asked in a tone of voice that was one small step removed from a flat-out demand. “I don’t want to keep Ms. Winchester or Mr. Newport waiting.”
“Give me an hour,” Lucinda all but growled at him. Elena was watching her with naked interest, Jackson wasn’t leaving her alone about the Newports and the Winchesters, and she was holding in her hands a card from Josh Calhoun, because who else would send her flowers?
No one, that’s who. She’d always been something of an introvert. She had a few good friends and it was more than enough for her.
Never in her entire life had she wanted to go hide more than she did right now.
“Great! I’ll check back in an hour, okay?” For the love of everything holy, Jackson looked so much like an overeager golden retriever at this moment that Lucinda was tempted to dig a treat out of her pocket and throw it just to get him to go away.
“Yeah.” She should probably work a little harder on sucking up to the hospital administrators, but she just didn’t have it in her today.
Once Jackson was out of sight, Elena whispered, “Well?” and crowded closer to read the card over her shoulder.
Lucinda slipped the card into her pocket and grabbed the floral arrangement. There was no way in hell she was going to read it right now, with half of the nurses on duty pretending not to listen in. If she was going to turn beet red again, she wanted to do so in the privacy of her own closet. “It looks like I’m going to be picking up some extra shifts at a private residence. I’m going to need a few trusted nurses who can keep their mouths shut.” The irony of the situation didn’t escape her. She wasn’t going to read Josh’s note in front of them because she didn’t trust a single one of them, but she was asking them to come to Winchester’s estate and help her discreetly manage him there. “Are you interested?”
The difference was, of course, that patient privacy was the law and that law was drilled into them over and over again. Her personal life, however, was fair game and everyone knew it.
“Of course!” Elena’s gaze darted over to Sutton’s room. Yeah, everyone knew who they were talking about. “Any word on what it’ll pay?”
“I’ll make sure it’s worth your while. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” Lucinda juggled the flowers and her tablet and, randomly tapping on the screen to make it look as if she was doing something important instead of fleeing like a trapped rat, turned on her heel and started down the hallway.
She couldn’t flee fast enough. “Is he cute?” Elena called after her. “Or she—it’s fine with us either way.”
As if Lucinda hadn’t been put on the spot enough already. She had always avoided the Grey’s Anatomy–style hospital romances that seemed to permeate Midwest. And, yeah, on some level, she probably knew that people assumed she didn’t date men because she was a lesbian or asexual.
But was it really such a common assumption that Elena would announce it in the middle of the hallway like that?
“Don’t you need to check on Mrs. Adamczak?” Lucinda shot back over her shoulder as she walked through the wide swinging doors. Without giving Elena a chance to catch up, she hurried to her office and blissfully shut the door. It wasn’t much of an office. Part of the plans for the expanded cancer pavilion was redesigning the doctors’ offices to make patients feel more comfortable when they sat down for life-and-death discussions. Right now, Lucinda barely had enough room for a desk and two chairs. But she had a door and a lock, and that was all she needed right now.
She pulled the envelope out of her pocket and realized with horror that her hands were shaking. No. No. She was absolutely not going to let Josh Calhoun get to her again.
She slipped a small card out. “L—I will always be your friend. Let me take you out to dinner. J”
Below that was an Iowa phone number.
She had to stop thinking it couldn’t get worse. Because at this point, fate was merely toying with her.
Three (#ulink_227a3431-f0ed-5ef0-b748-07b6293e4326)
“I might be stuck here for a couple of days,” Josh told his grandfather, Peter Calhoun, who’d called just as Josh was getting into his truck after leaving Carson’s place.
He wasn’t sure what he hoped that his grandfather would say. Peter Calhoun was still the chairman of the Calhoun Creamery, although he was well into his eighties and little more than a figurehead at this point. For all intents and purposes, Josh ran the creamery as CEO. And he hated being away from it.
He almost wanted his grandfather to tell him to come home right now. To heck with the Newports and the Winchesters and the whole city. Chicago was not his town. And the longer he was there, the more everything would hurt.
But if he turned tail and ran—and there was no mistaking the fact that that was exactly what it would be—then what would they think of him? Brooks and Graham and Carson and, yes, Lucy?
He’d given up Lucy’s friendship once without a fight. He could not willingly forfeit the Newports’ friendship, too.
“No big rush,” his grandfather said, his voice crackling with age. “You work too hard, son. Take all the time you need.”
That was not exactly what Josh wanted to hear. “It’ll only be a few more days,” he said as if his grandfather had asked him to come home. “I think the Newport boys need me to be here long enough to see Sutton Winchester settled a little bit. I won’t be here a moment longer.”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone before his grandfather said, “Josh, I know it must be hard for you to be back in Chicago, but I’m serious. Your brothers and sisters are doing a great job holding down the fort. Take the time you need to take. The cows aren’t going anywhere. Paige has the situation well in hand and Trevor is helping cover for you. You know, I think it’s been good for him to have a little more responsibility.”
Josh scowled, not that his grandfather could see it. He did his best to take care of his siblings.
“Unless there’s something else bothering you?” Peter Calhoun asked tentatively.
“DC was fine,” Josh quickly said. “I think we’ll see some good things for the creamery in the new regulations. We should be able to capitalize on the push for hormone-free products and grow our market share.” That wasn’t what his grandfather had asked, but switching back into corporate-lawyer mode was almost automatic for him.
And they both knew it. “But...” the older man said in his gentle way.
Josh sighed. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “But Lucy Wilde is Sutton Winchester’s oncologist.”
“Is that so?” At first Josh thought his grandfather didn’t remember who Lucy was, but then he added, “Have you seen her since graduation?”
“No.” Josh left it at that. He didn’t need to tell his grandfather that Lucy had looked at him with absolute venom in her eyes, and he also didn’t need to mention that he had sent her flowers already.
“An oncologist? Well, good for her. You know...” His grandfather trailed off and Josh could infer what the old man was not saying.
You know, we always wondered what happened between you two. You know, she was such a nice girl. You know, you know, you know.
Shortly after Lucy and Josh had gone to their respective colleges far, far away from each other, Lucy’s folks had moved out of Cedar Point. The Wilde family had no more connections with Iowa that he knew of. Lucy had not come back.
But Josh had.
And he would again.
Josh knew he shouldn’t be sending flowers to anyone. What he had was his job and his family. And that was all he needed. He didn’t need the feeling of desire that hit him low in the gut. He’d lived a good five years without it, after all.
And he especially didn’t need to feel that desire for someone he had a messy history with. The less complicated his life, the happier he was.
And one thing was blindingly obvious—Lucy Wilde was complicated. With a capital C.
“If you see her again, you tell her I said hi,” his grandfather went on as if Josh were actively participating in this conversation. “You know, she was such a nice girl. I’m glad to hear she is doing well. And Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s no rush. If you need to take a couple of weeks in Chicago, that’s fine. Your brother and sisters and I have everything under control.”
If Josh didn’t know any better, he’d think his grandfather was actively telling him not to come home. “Yeah, okay. I’ll let you know.” And with that he hung up.
He stared at his phone. Why did his grandfather’s insistence that he take some time off bother him so much? Josh didn’t need to take time off. He was fine. He’d been fine for a long time.
His mind called up the images of the three women he’d had conversations with today—the Newports’ receptionist, Eve Winchester and Lucy Wilde. He hadn’t responded to Eve at all, but that feeling had been mutual. Nothing unusual there.
But that receptionist...she’d been actively flirting with Josh. He’d felt nothing other than noting she was a pretty girl. No reaction, no interest. As usual.
Then he’d come around that corner and seen Lucy. That had inspired a reaction in him, which was putting it mildly. Was it just the shock of seeing her again after all these years? Or was it something else?
Before he could fire up the truck, his phone buzzed and lit up with a text message. Josh jolted and almost dropped his phone, but he managed to keep a grip on it and prevent it from sliding down between his thigh and the seat.
For Pete’s sake. His heart thumping along at a good clip, he looked at the screen. It was a Chicago area code. The text message read, I don’t know if dinner is such a good idea.
Oh, thank God. Lucy had gotten the flowers. And she had not promptly told him to go to hell. On the whole, that was an improvement from their earlier conversation and, for some reason, made him feel...hopeful?
Why? Don’t you eat dinner?
The little bubble popped up on the screen that meant she was typing something back. What do you really want?
The hell of it was, he didn’t actually know. Why wasn’t he letting this drop? Was it simply because he was in Chicago and it was easier to think about Lucy than it was to think about Sydney? Or was it because he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to help out the Newport boys and this problem seemed less challenging?
Or...was it something else?
His fingers curved and he could almost feel her hand in his again, see the way her eyes had widened when he’d pulled her in.
It didn’t seem possible that he wanted her. Not after five years without a single damned spark of attraction to any woman.
So he sidestepped the unfamiliar emotions and focused on what he could handle. To catch up with an old friend, he texted back.
The little bubble popped up, went away and then popped up again before he got a reply. You shouldn’t send me flowers at work.
I didn’t have your home address. It’s just dinner, Lucy. He almost added, I’ve missed you, but at the last second, he changed his mind and backspaced over the words. Except he hit the wrong button and accidentally sent a partial text that read, I’ve mp.
Crap.
Sorry, he quickly texted. Hit the wrong button.
She didn’t answer for the longest time—so long, in fact, that Josh was pretty sure she had decided to call it a day.
Then her reply popped up. One dinner. That’s it.
Tonight? The moment he hit Send, he felt stupid. He hadn’t come to Chicago for Lucy. He’d told Carson as much. He was here for the Newport boys and nothing more. Tonight was about settling in with a couple of six-packs and doing his level best to keep Brooks from going off the deep end.
But suddenly he realized he wanted her to come to dinner with him. And not just because they were old friends. Okay, because they were old friends—the very best of old friends.
Hell. He didn’t know why he needed her to say yes. Only that he did.
Can’t. Dealing with the Winchesters.
Disappointment unfurled in his chest, but then another text popped up. Tomorrow night. Meet me at Lou Malnati’s on N. State. 7 o’clock.
Chicago pizza? I’m there, he texted.
All this was, he told himself, was two old friends getting together for dinner at a classic Chicago restaurant. And Josh would be lying if he said he didn’t miss Chicago food. Cedar Point, Iowa, was a great small town and a wonderful place to grow up, but folks there considered Applebee’s to be fancy and the ethnic food section of the grocery store consisted of refried beans and tortilla chips. Chicago dining was one of the very few things that he missed about the city.
His stomach rumbled.
So that was why he was suddenly excited. Not the fact that Lucy had said yes, but that he was going to get a good Chicago pizza for the first time in a long time.
Nothing more.
* * *
This was a mistake. Lucinda had spent the last twenty-four hours doing her regular job and dealing with the Winchester sisters. She understood that they loved their father, and she also understood that they only wanted what was best for him.
But they were going to drive her past madness in record time.
And what she wanted right now more than anything was to be curled up on her couch with a pint of ice cream—yes, Calhoun Creamery ice cream—and watching a Sandra Bullock movie.
She did not want to be walking into a pizzeria at 6:58 on a Thursday night. And she most especially did not want to be meeting Josh Calhoun.
Somehow, though, that hadn’t stopped her from rushing home after work to change. Even worse, it hadn’t stopped her from putting on one of her few dresses, a sleeveless navy blue wrap dress that she had worn to weddings and funerals alike. The evening was cool, and she’d put on a cream-colored cardigan so she didn’t feel naked.
She knew that if the people from work saw her—especially someone like Elena—they would lose their collective minds, because Lucinda never dressed up, never put on mascara and lipstick, and she never, ever wore her hair down. All the things she was doing right now.
There was only one explanation. She had lost what was left of her mind.
This is not a date, she told herself as she forced her feet to carry her through the door and into the restaurant. This was two old friends catching up—nothing more, nothing less.
Which did nothing to explain the way her stomach fluttered when Josh caught sight of her and stood up. Now that she was braced for seeing him again, it was easier to see how he had changed compared with what she remembered. He was taller and broader—a fact that was only emphasized by the heather-gray blazer he wore over a white dress shirt. He didn’t have on his trademark hat, either. His hair was neatly combed and he was clean-shaven.
Two thoughts hit Lucinda at the exact same time.
God, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. So much more than the cute boy she’d been friends with.
And oh, hell. This was a date.
Those two things were quickly followed by a third, even more terrifying thought—it was too late to back out now.
“Lucy!” Josh came around the table and made a move as though he was going to hug her, but then he pulled up short and instead just put his hands on her shoulders. “You look great,” he said.
It was the kind of thing that he could’ve just tossed off as a social nicety. But his gaze traveled over her body—which made her want to curl up self-consciously into a small ball and hide. This was painful. Excruciatingly so. She knew she was a failure when it came to sensuality. Heck, wasn’t that why she’d put on the cardigan? Because it hid her shapeless body—and it was as close to her lab coat as she could get away with outside the hospital?
Then he added, “Wow. You’ve really grown up,” in a tone that was uncomfortably close to reverential.
Was that a compliment? It had to be. There was no mocking eye roll, no barely contained snicker behind his words. And, truthfully, she was pretty sure she’d be able to tell. She’d always been able to read Josh better than his own mother.
No, he was being sincere. And that somehow made everything worse. Lucinda forced herself to smile. “So have you. I’m surprised to see that hat isn’t chemically bonded to your head.”
“Hey!” Josh yelped in mock embarrassment. “At least I stopped sleeping with it on.”
Against her will, Lucinda laughed. “Maturity in action, huh?”
Josh tried to look sheepish and didn’t quite manage it. “Here,” he said, stepping to the side and pulling out her chair for her. “Let me get this for you.”
Yeah, this was a date. Back when they’d been friends in high school, Josh had treated her exactly the way he’d treated Gary—no special favors, no coddling. And certainly no holding chairs for either of them.
Her heart began to pound wildly as she sat. What was she doing? She didn’t date. She didn’t go out. She worked and she slept, and that was it. If this really was a date—and all signs seemed to be pointing to it—she had no idea what she was supposed to do or when she was supposed to do it without making a total fool of herself.
All she knew was that she was not going to make a fool out of herself. Not again.
Josh crossed to the other side of the table and sat down. “I don’t know about you,” he said in a light tone, “but I spent all day dealing with the Newport boys. I need a beer.”
Okay, she could do this. As long as she didn’t throw herself at him again, this would be fine. “And I was handling the Winchester girls,” she admitted. That information didn’t violate the HIPAA privacy laws, especially not when Josh already knew what was going on.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/sarah-anderson/claimed-by-the-cowboy/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.