Leanne Banks - The Doctor Wore Spurs

But fainting? She swiped her cheeks and rolled her eyes. She hadn’t fared well on her first test here in Fort Worth. She smiled wryly thinking, in that case, she had nowhere to go but up.

The following morning Jill took her sound machine and kava tea with her to the hospital. The goal was to surround herself with comfort to encourage creativity and peace.

Trina looked at her, perplexed. “Are you sure you don’t want a honey bun and some good strong coffee? Dr. Logan told me to make sure you get plenty of food today.”

Jill smiled. “Thank you. I already ate cereal.”

“But a midmorning snack—”

“Okay,” she said, sensing surrender would work better than protest. “I’ll eat a honey bun.” Comfort food, she told herself.

Trina sighed in relief. “Good. I don’t want Dr. Logan mad at me. Have you ever seen a doctor with a better backside?”

“I can’t say I’ve noticed his backside,” Jill said wryly, which wasn’t exactly true. She’d been up close and personal with Tyler’s legs and backside when she’d ridden home on his motorcycle.

“Well, it’s pretty darn terrific,” Trina said. “And if he smiles and squints his eyes at the same time, he gets a little dimple right here,” she said, pointing to the hollow of her jaw.

Jill tapped her pencil on her desk. If she heard much more about how wonderful Tyler was, she might be too nauseated to finish the honey bun. In Trina’s eyes, the man was nearly a god, certainly a hero. That thought stopped her, then her mind tumbled through a half-dozen scenarios.

“I’m bugging you, aren’t I?”

“No. You might be helping,” Jill said. “I’m just thinking of ways to get the wing.” She pinched a piece off the honey bun and put it in her mouth. “Maybe…” She closed her eyes, then opened them and smiled at her idea. “I’ve got it. An ad campaign featuring Tyler. We could take pictures in his scrubs and in his white jacket and invite people to donate funds to become members of Tyler’s heart menders’ posse.”

“Bumper stickers,” Trina said.

“Yes. Great,” Jill said. “I’d like you to call the on-site PR coordinator so I can bounce this off her as soon as possible and arrange for a photographer.”

Trina nodded. “And do you want me to call Dr. Logan, too?”

Jill shook her head. “Not until I take care of the groundwork.”

“But what if he won’t do it?” Trina asked. “Some men, even good-looking men are funny about getting their picture taken.”

Jill chuckled. Tyler’s picture wasn’t just going to be taken. If she had her way, the campaign would be plastered across all the local media along with a few billboards. “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with Tyler.” She thought about his Texas-size ego. “He’ll like this.”

“I don’t like this,” Tyler said late that afternoon when Jill told him her plan.

She did a double take. “Why? You’re handsome and appealing. I’m sure the camera will love you as will everyone who sees your pictures. We’ll get the funding for the wing in no time and you’ll probably get a few hundred decent and indecent proposals, too. You’ll be a hometown hero.”

He supposed he could feel flattered that Jill thought he was handsome. He wouldn’t mind her stroking more than his ego. At the moment, however, he felt more like a prize bull being readied for a parade around the stockyard. Uneasy, Tyler shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not celebrity material.”

She cocked her head to one side, her eyes glinting with a curiosity that grabbed at his gut and shimmied down. “Don’t sell yourself short. Besides, this will be temporary.”

“Five minutes?” he asked dryly.

She smiled gently. “Two weeks intensive, two more weeks of follow-up.”

Tyler stifled an oath. “Don’t you have any other ideas?”

Her face puzzled, Jill stood. “Yes, but this one is the best.”

“This sounds an awful lot like that stupid bachelor calendar the Daughters of Texas put together every year,” he grumbled. “I hear most of the guys don’t wear much more than briefs and oil.”

Jill chuckled, then bit her lip as if she sensed he wasn’t amused. “You’ll be wearing the clothes you wear to work. I must confess oil had not entered my mind.”

He scratched his jaw. “I like my privacy. I’m not cut out to be a poster boy. All I want is to do my surgery, take care of my patients and lead my life the way I want. If I’d wanted a lot of attention, I would’ve chosen the rodeo.”

Jill shook her head. “I would have sworn you would do just about anything for this wing.”

He thought about the wing: how important it was to him and how important it would be to the patients. “I would,” he said slowly, the words torn from him. “If it’s absolutely necessary,” he added. “I’m surprised you want me to do the media. I’m not the most politically correct guy in the corral. Have you talked with Clarence?”

“No, but you don’t need to be totally politically correct. You’re passionate about what you do. With very little coaching, that passion will come through.”

Feeling trapped, Tyler swiped his hand over his face. “My brother will never let me live this down. What in hell made you come up with this idea?”

Her smooth, composed expression faltered, and her cheeks bloomed with color. “Just a side remark Trina made. It doesn’t really matter. It was just part of the creative process. The results are what matters.”

Her discomfort piqued his curiosity. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well, since I’ve just been signed on to the Jill Hershey Modeling Agency, I’d like to know how it came about.”

She glanced away and waved her hand in a dismissing gesture. “It was just a silly remark. I’m sure you know Trina is a fan of yours.”

“What was the remark?”

She rearranged the location of a pencil holder on her desk. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yep.”

She looked up and sighed. “She said you had the best backside of any doctor she’d ever seen.”

“So you picked me for my butt. How shallow,” he said in an amused voice. “I’m surprised at you.”

“This is not about your butt,” she said. “I chose you because you will photograph well and you embody the image of a true Texan and the possibility, the dream of a hero.”

“It’s about image and press.”

She lifted her chin. “It’s about understanding what the public’s dreams are. I believe most people feel there has been a shortage of heroes. By using you, your image, and what you do we not only give people the dream of a hero, we offer them the opportunity to be heroes, too.” She paused a half beat and could have knocked him flat with the expression in her gaze. “I dare you.”

Silence followed, but Tyler felt as if a lightning bolt had cracked through him. Her passion, the same passion he felt, sparked from her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed with it. Her voice resonated with it. He felt an inexplicable promise of fulfillment, of a missing piece he hadn’t thought was missing. In that moment he craved her in every way a man could crave a woman, and he’d never felt that way before.

He bit back an oath and tried to cover his confusion with a chuckle. “Okay, when do I strip?”

She blinked, and the color in her cheeks intensified. “You won’t have to strip,” she said weakly.

“Now I know why they call you a sorceress,” he said.

“I’m not a sorceress,” she quickly denied. “I just get the job done.”

“No, you do more. You get people health care they need and give the contributors something they need. That’s more than getting the job done.” He held her gaze, the thread of connection drawing him while her eyes warned him off. “What about you, Jill? Who is your hero?”