Rita Herron - The Rancher Wore Suits

He still didn’t respond, so she gently caught his arm. “Dr. Montgomery, I’m here to pick you up.”

His startled gaze swung back to her, a moment of heat splintering through her as he stared into her eyes. His ruggedly handsome face sent a flutter through her stomach, and his eyes were so dark they reminded her of chocolate kisses. She loved chocolate.

“Bridget couldn’t make it,” she said, shaking off the unsettling feeling. “Something about a business dinner. I offered to pick you up instead.”

He stared at her as if he didn’t recognize her, his thick dark brows drawn together. He’d let his hair grow, too, about a half-inch longer than she remembered, giving him a rugged, primitive appearance. He probably wouldn’t use an out-of-town barber, she thought, dismissing the slight difference and its effect on her. “Do you have more luggage?”

He shook his head, indicating the garment bag. “I carried on.”

She nodded. “Come on, then. I parked in the short-term lot.” He headed toward the MARTA sign and she frowned. What was wrong with him? He’d been in the Hartsfield airport at least a thousand times.

“It’s this way.” She laid her hand on his arm again. “Are you all right, Dr. Montgomery?”

He tipped his head and started toward the exit. “Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long day.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture she’d never seen him use. The movement spiked the ends, sending a lock over his high forehead. Somehow it made him seem vulnerable. “I fell asleep on the plane. I guess I’m not awake yet.”

“Yes, I heard your flight was delayed.” She led him through the doors toward her trusted VW. “Don’t worry. I’ll have you home in no time.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Worry laced his deep voice. “After all, it’s awfully late for a woman to be downtown alone.”

Jessica faltered, surprised by his concern. Maybe Dr. Montgomery really had a soft side hiding beneath that steel business veneer. “No, I don’t mind at all. In fact, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you on the way.”

Trepidation filled her, but she gathered her courage. She’d just have to use the old trick her speech teacher in college had told her about—she’d picture him naked while she gave her sales pitch about the children’s wing. Then she wouldn’t be so nervous.

TY FELT NAKED without his Stetson.

Was that the reason this sexy little slip of a woman kept looking at him the way she did? Had he somehow already blown his new identity?

No, she couldn’t possibly know.

Except he hadn’t recognized her, and he obviously should have. But the noisy airport had his head swimming.

Who the hell was this knockout woman, anyway?

A co-worker? Friend? Lover?

She was a little bitty thing, probably about five-three, and she had enormous grass-green eyes and auburn hair with flecks of red and orange that reminded him of a Montana sunset. Soft pink lips created a pouty little mouth that begged to be kissed, and the outline of her jacket showcased breasts that would just fit into the palms of his hands. Heat curled low in his belly, the pool of hunger undeniable.

Taking a deep breath to gather his control, he followed her through the dimly lit parking garage, his eyes feasting on the sway of her hips and the way that dark-blue skirt framed her behind. She had shapely legs, too, as if she exercised regularly, although he couldn’t imagine her wearing dusty jeans or doing hard work on a ranch, like the women he’d grown up with, the type of country girl he’d probably marry one day.

This woman was more like Paula. Educated, prissy, soft.

He’d learned his lesson dating a city girl a long time ago. Once burned, twice shy.

“My car’s over here. I hope you won’t be too uncomfortable, Dr. Montgomery.”

A lover wouldn’t call him doctor, would she?

“We’ll just put your bag in the trunk.”

She stopped at an old red VW bug, or what he guessed had once been red. The paint had faded, giving it a splotched effect, and the sunlight had turned the red to a dull orange.

He’d expected a limo, or Bridget to show up in an expensive sports car or Mercedes. Then again, he didn’t really care. He was a humble guy himself.

His brother’s words rang in his head. Be wary of everyone, especially the women. They all want me for your money.

This knockout had said she wanted to talk to him on the way home. Judging from her ancient car, she probably had financial troubles. Had she offered him a ride because she wanted money from Dex?

And if so, how far would she go to get it?

Ty wouldn’t mind being seduced by her, he admitted silently. But he would never mix a relationship with business, especially with a woman like that woman.

Besides, Grandma Cooper would paddle his behind.

God, he missed her and the family. They’d probably be planning a welcome-home dinner for him right about now; he could practically smell the steaks sizzling on the grill and taste the buttery home-grown corn and biscuits.

Would the Montgomerys have a special welcome-home dinner, too? With Dex’s favorite foods?

Worry knotted his stomach. He had no idea what Dex’s favorite food was. How would he pull this off? Could he really pretend to be someone he’d just met?

What did he really know about his twin brother?

Nothing, except the information he’d crammed into his brain those few hours they’d sat in the bar. He and Dex might share the same genes, the same face, but they were completely different men.

He wanted to get to know his brother better. When this was over, he would.

The stunning auburn-haired woman next to him cranked the engine, then leaned outside the vehicle, removed a softball-sized rock from beneath her wheel and slid it behind the front seat.

“I have to get Nellie’s emergency brakes repaired,” she said.

He arched a dark brow. “Nellie?”

She nodded, a red blush creeping up her cheek to the auburn roots of her hair. “I named her in college.” She patted the scarred dashboard. “We’ve been together a long time.”

He couldn’t resist a chuckle. Should he offer to fix Nellie’s brakes for her? He was a decent mechanic; he’d fixed his share of farm equipment. Then again, did Dex know anything about cars?

Probably not. And if he did, Ty felt certain he didn’t actually work on them. Dex wouldn’t want to get grease on his expensive suits.

While the woman maneuvered her way through the parking-garage maze, Ty mentally reviewed the few things Dex had told him about himself. Dex had a medical degree, but he’d traded in his stethoscope for a computer. Now, he ran a huge medical conglomerate called Modern Medical Maintenance, Inc. which he’d affectionately called M3I. As if a man could be affectionate about a medical empire, Ty thought. The company owned a chain of cutting-edge facilities throughout the Southeast that sounded like they focused more on maintaining a profit margin than providing quality medical care.

Ty winced. Was he any better, though? He wanted more money to better the ranch.

Hell yes, he was different. He wanted to increase the ranch’s profits so he could make life easier for his family. But he’d never take advantage of people’s business problems or medical conditions to make a buck.

The VW hit a pothole, and he tried to adjust his legs in the cramped space, but his knees hit the dash and his head thumped the ceiling. The city air, the constant barrage of noises and the small space damn near suffocated him.

Oblivious to Ty’s discomfort, the woman wove into the fast-moving traffic. Even this late in the evening, cars flew by as if they were racing in the Indy 500. Ty searched his memory for the woman’s name. But Dex hadn’t mentioned anyone specifically, except for Bridget, his financial advisor.