drop him off.
Besides, what did she expect him to do? Call a cab or hitchhike?
“Sure,” she said. “I can take you.”
“That’s great. Just give me a chance to tell Doc where I’m going.”
Minutes later, John was back and climbing into the passenger seat of her Honda Civic. When he shut the door, filling the air in her lungs with the hint of soap, musk and man, the sides of the compact car seemed to close in on them, forcing them closer together.
As her heart rate soared in reaction to the sight, sound and smell of him, she reminded herself to downplay her interest in him.
But as she turned the car around and headed down the driveway toward the road that led to Brighton Valley, she realized that pretending that she wasn’t attracted to John Doe was going to be as easy as ignoring a full-grown elephant riding in the passenger seat of a compact car.
On the way to town, Betsy had been unusually quiet. She could be pondering a perplexing medical case or something work-related, John supposed, but he couldn’t help thinking that after what had happened last night, she felt uneasy around him.
Neither of them had mentioned their brief but heated encounter in the moonlight, yet he suspected that it was bothering her.
And he could see why it might. Betsy had come alive in his arms. He’d felt her passion, heard her ragged breathing when she’d come up for air.
She’d been just as aroused as he’d been. And that single kiss had convinced him that their lovemaking would be out of this world.
Of course, she’d said it shouldn’t have happened. But it had.
He stole a glance across the seat, as she held on to the steering wheel and peered out the windshield. She’d put on makeup today and had dressed casually. But her expression was as tense and guarded as her grip on the wheel.
More than anything he wanted to put her at ease, to tell her that it had only been a kiss and that they should just take each day as it came.
He wasn’t sure how to broach the subject, though, or how to address the obvious chemistry that simmered between them. So he focused on the here and now. “I really appreciate the ride, Betsy.”
“No problem.” She kept her eyes on the road, her hands on the wheel.
She seemed to have full control of the vehicle. Was she doing the same with her thoughts?
“I have plans with my parents,” she added. “So I won’t be able to take you back to the ranch right away. I hope you don’t mind waiting for me.”
“Not at all. I’m in no hurry. I’ll just hang out in town until you’re finished.”
She shot a glance his way and a slow smile eased the tension from her pretty face. “You know, you might not have to wait for us. I’ve heard that Jim Kelso is always running late. There’s no telling how long you’ll be in his office.”
It irritated him when people couldn’t keep to a schedule or when they weren’t prompt…
His thoughts froze before he could continue and jumbled before he could grasp the how and why.
As a result of the memory misfire, he clamped his mouth shut, giving in to discouragement and silence.
Ten minutes later, Betsy pointed out Shady Glen, the retirement complex where her parents lived. The fairly new redbrick building was several stories high, with flower gardens and a water fountain in the center of a circular drive.
But she passed by it and pulled into the driveway of a gray medical building adjacent to the hospital.
“See?” she said. “It’s just a little over a block away from Dr. Kelso’s office.”
He opened the passenger door and slid out of the car. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll head over to the retirement home when I’m finished and wait for you in the lobby.”
“Good idea. They have plenty of sofas and chairs, a cozy fireplace and a big-screen TV. It’ll be a perfect place for us to meet later.”
“That’ll work.” He tossed her a don’t-worry-about-me grin. “Take your time. And have fun.”
As he turned toward the entrance to the medical building, she drove off. But he couldn’t help looking over his shoulder to steal one last peek at her, missing what little connection they had. Then he entered the building and sought the directory.
Neurology Associates was in number 206, so he took the elevator to the second floor and found the office. When he reached the front desk, the receptionist, a dishwater blonde in her mid-forties looked up and cast him a sympathetic frown. “I’m really sorry, but Dr. Kelso was just called to the hospital on an emergency. I’ve been contacting his patients with appointments this morning, but I’m afraid I wasn’t able to catch you in time.”
He’d hoped Dr. Kelso would tell him that he could return to all of his normal activities-whatever they were. But apparently, that wasn’t going to happen today.
Masking his disappointment, he rescheduled the appointment. Then, with nothing else to do, he headed for the retirement home down the street.
The wintry air was crisp, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of the corduroy jacket Doc had loaned him. On the left side, he found a quarter that his benefactor had left behind.
As he fingered the coin, a niggle of uneasiness settled over him. He wasn’t comfortable taking handouts. He wasn’t sure how he knew that. But he did.
And while he was glad to have a job and a place to live, he couldn’t help feeling as though he needed to pay his own way.
When he turned into the complex, he headed toward a pair of glass doors that opened up to the lobby. The spacious room, with its hardwood floor, cream-colored walls and decor in shades of green and brown, wasn’t much different than that of a hotel.
The overstuffed furniture in coordinating fabric provided a homey appearance. And a large brick fireplace, with colorful needlepoint stockings hanging from the mantel and gas flames licking over fake logs, gave the place a cozy, Christmassy feel.
In the far corner, he spotted a large Scotch pine, fully decorated and loaded with sparkling white lights. He wished he could conjure some of the holiday spirit himself, but he came up blank.
Had he been ready for Christmas when he first came to town? When his past hadn’t been a mystery to him?
He supposed it didn’t matter.
As he continued into the lobby, he noticed a bulletin board next to an unmanned concierge desk. The board was adorned with a snowflake trim and bore several flyers. Curious, he made his way toward it and read the notices that announced a bingo game on Tuesday night, a day trip to the museum in Houston next week and karaoke sing- alongs in the recreation room every Saturday night.
Betsy had been right. This wasn’t a hospital, and her parents probably did enjoy living here.
As he started for an empty easy chair near a big-screen television, he figured he was in for a long wait, which was okay with him.
But he’d only taken two steps when the elevator doors opened and Betsy stepped out with a silver-haired couple.
When recognition dawned on her face, he tossed her a grin and shrugged. “My appointment was canceled.”
“That’s too bad.” As she approached him, her parents, a couple in their seventies, came with her.
“It is a little annoying to think I made the trip for nothing, but those things happen. I rescheduled my appointment for later in the week.” He nodded toward the television. “I’ll just wait here for you to get back.”
“Betsy, is this a friend of yours?” her father asked, eyeing John carefully.
When Betsy said that he was, the older man with thinning hair broke into a grin and reached out his arm in the customary greeting. “It’s nice to meet you, son. I’m Pete Nielson. And this is my wife, Barbara.”
John shook the older man’s hand, but he didn’t offer a name for himself. What was he supposed to say, “I’m John Doe”?
Fortunately, Betsy stepped in and saved him by offering a discreet, yet truthful, explanation. “This is John. He’s
