Leanne Banks - The Doctor Wore Spurs

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Pediatric cardiologist Tyler Logan always rounded up what he wanted–such as Jill Hershey's fund-raising expertise to build a children's hospital wing. When she refused, he lassoed the sultry businesswoman with his stethoscope, daring her to help.But now something was daring him–to take a chance and break the curse that said Logans never won at love….Jill had tried to bury herself in her high-powered job–but it couldn't substitute for love and family. And now Tyler was touching her heart–and other Places–dangling what she yearned for most. Jill couldn't give her body and keep her heart. So maybe it was time to give both….

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The light in her eyes dimmed a little, but her posture remained erect. “I learned the hard way not to count on someone else to be my hero. I can be my own hero.”

He felt a strange stinging sensation and fought the strangest, craziest desire to be her hero. Pushing the insanity inside, he replaced it with another. “What are you doing for dinner?”

“It’s been a long day, but I’d like to sketch out some more ideas while they’re fresh in my head. I’m eating at home,” she said firmly.

I do not want to spend my evening with you, she might as well have said. Tyler got her message loud and clear. If he was the nice guy everyone thought he was, he would comply with her wishes; and if he told himself she wasn’t worth his time, he would leave her alone.

Jill’s doorbell rang at eight o’clock while she was listening to a classical music CD and writing potential ad slogans. Frowning, she glanced at the door and rose. Since she’d just arrived in Fort Worth a few days ago, she hadn’t really made any friends, so she couldn’t imagine who— She looked through the peephole and saw Tyler wearing a cocky grin and carrying a small brown paper bag.

She opened the door and blocked the doorway. She didn’t want him in her temporary home tonight. The man took up entirely too much space of every room he entered. He could make a wheat field feel crowded.

“Hi,” he said. “Since you fainted in my arms last night, I thought I should make sure you’re okay tonight. No relapses?”

“Thank you. None. I’m fine.”

“I forgot to tell you that TJ made it through the surgery today.”

She felt a softening inside her. “Thank you. I’m glad to hear that. I’ll have to go visit him.”

He lifted the bag. “Also brought some Blue Bell ice cream to share with you and find out more about my modeling assignment.”

Give up, Jill told herself. “Come in,” she said, unable to conceal her reticence.

He gave a bad-boy grin and sauntered inside. “You were going to let me stay out there all night.” He made a tsking sound. “I can see you need some exposure to our Texan hospitality. What made you let me in? My smile, charm or great butt?”

Just for fun, she was sorely tempted to say his great butt. “Ice cream,” she told him. “It’s one of my five basic food groups.”

He plastered a crestfallen expression on his face. “The ice cream was a bonus. I was supposed to be the main draw. I don’t know if my ego can take this.”

“Oh, I’m sure it can,” she said. “Isn’t it the biggest part of you?”

“Oh,” he said, giving a rough chuckle and shaking his head. He moved closer, crowding her. “That’s a terrible thing to say to a man. You know you’re asking for trouble, don’t you?”

Three

Uh-oh. Jill’s heart slammed into her rib cage at the seductively predatory look on Tyler’s face. She licked her lips. “I thought we decided you didn’t need to flirt with me.”

“You said that. Not me,” he said, moving closer.

She took a step backward. Her heart still racing, she struggled to remain rational. “This is silly. You have an entire hospital full of women interested in you. The only reason you’re doing this is because I’m not interested in you.”

“You’re not?” he said, his voice rippling over her nerve endings.

She took another step back. “I told you I’m here to do a job.”

“And you’re not at all attracted to me,” he said.

Jill took another step and felt the wall behind her. “You’re a flirt.”

He nodded. “You don’t like flirts.”

“I haven’t had good experience with flirts.”

He went still for a moment and stared into her, not at her, into her, and she could almost swear he could read her. “Your husband was a flirt,” he said, and gently lifted his hand to her cheek.

His touch made something inside her tumble free. She closed her eyes to fight the feeling.

“He was an idiot.”

“How do you know?” she whispered, appalled at the burning sensation behind her eyes.

“He had you forever, but he let you go,” he said, then his mouth touched hers.

His lips were warm and searching. She felt the same searching inside her. He brushed against her lips back and forth, coaxing, inviting. Jill opened, and he tasted her and she tasted him. She tugged gently on his bottom lip, and his groan vibrated in all her secret places. He pressed his chest against her and she immediately felt her nipples harden. His hand molded her jaw, caressing her. His tongue teased her, her brain clouded with his musky masculine scent, and she wanted more. She wanted his strong arms around her, his hard body pressed against hers. She wanted the rush and heat of passion. She wanted to make him lose his cocky control, and she wanted him to make her lose hers.

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