Tamara pivoted, her eyes widening as none other than the object of her obsession for the last twenty years entered with a loose-limbed stride that never failed to draw women’s attention, including her own. Connor Dunbar looked the same at thirty-eight as he had five years ago; ruggedly handsome with sun-streaked, dark brown hair worn long enough to pull back in a short ponytail, his jaw covered with scruffy whiskers a shade darker than his hair that was sexy as hell.
“Tam?” Surprise colored his voice as those incredible eyes landed on her frozen stance.
The slow stretch of his chiseled lips hit her with a gut-wrenching sucker punch as warmth encircled her heart. No, no, no, she lamented, resisting the urge to turn and bang her head against the wall. That reaction would not do. She’d stayed away so long to get over him, praying with endless regularity for a much less potent response when seeing him again. Disappointment swamped her upon learning those pleas had gone unanswered. Given she’d returned to put this ridiculous, one-sided infatuation to bed once and for all, her response didn’t bode well for achieving that goal anytime soon. I can do this, remain professional and do my job, she lectured herself. Easy. Piece of cake. And then a blue flame of pleasure lit up his eyes as he strode toward her, shredding her resolve in less time than it took to come up with it.
“I heard you were back, maybe for good.” Gripping her shoulders with his large, calloused hands, he pulled her close for a bear hug she knew meant nothing more than an old friend greeting another. “It’s damn good to see you, sweetie.”
Tamara stiffened, the endearment a reminder he would never consider her anything more than a friend. Pulling back from the comfort of his muscled body, she cast a quick glance down at the list of appointments and saw what she hadn’t had time to check. He was her first patient. Dismay changed to sudden concern, overruling her silent objection as the meaning of that sunk in.
“What happened? Were you injured?”
Connor looked puzzled and then his face cleared with a rueful twist of his lips. Rotating his left shoulder, he nodded to the computer. “It’s in my file, I’m sure. Gunshot wound several weeks back, followed by surgery to repair some damaged tendons. I believe it’s your job to help me gain as much strength back as possible.”
Shot? Tamara pulled back from the urge to sink onto the desk chair before her wobbly legs took the choice from her. Instead, locking her knees, she reminded herself of her job. Given her reaction to seeing him again was as strong as always, she wasn’t happy about having to put her hands on him or with being subjected to his close presence for a few weeks. It is what it is, so get over it already. She’d been repeating that phrase for a long time and it looked like she would continue to do so.
Chapter 3
She hasn’t changed. The relief Connor experienced at that thought went along with the familiar rush gazing at Tamara Barton always gave him. He’d never been able to pinpoint what it was about the neighbor kid that made him want to smile and pulled on his protective instincts every time he saw her. He’d found himself drawn to the determination tightening her small, pale face the first time he’d laid eyes on her at the county fair. That
same tug had yanked at him when he’d seen her pale, tear ravaged face at her father’s funeral last year, leaving him frustrated when she’d turned away from him after his brief condolences. Now, the surprised pleasure that had shone in her gray eyes before switching to concern put him in a much better mood than when he’d arrived at the clinic cursing the necessity for therapy to his injured rotator cuff.
“You can fill me in after I look at your chart,” she said now, the worry and censure in her tone tickling him.
“I can, can I?” he drawled. “You always did fret like a mother hen.” For some reason that didn’t bug him as much as when his well-meaning friends and soon-to-be sister-in-law did the same thing.
“Because you’ve always been reckless to the point of careless. Oh.” Tam’s eyes clouded as she scanned through his chart. Shaking her head, she sent him a familiar rueful glance that tightened his abdomen. “Chasing after rustlers by yourself? You’re lucky you didn’t end up with a lot worse.”
He knew that and was tired of the reminders. “I wasn’t about to just let them drive off. You should be more thankful. I believe they’ve hit your ranch, as well as ours and a few others.”
“I could never be grateful for you putting yourself in harm’s way, Connor.”
And there it was, that light in her eyes as she gazed at him that set off alarm bells. What was it about that soft look that both stirred Connor and made him itch to run away? He’d had countless women look at him with lust and a handful with a hint of stronger feelings than he cared for, including Annie. Some of them he had enjoyed before sending them on their way. The others he’d let down as gently as possible before breaking it off or refused to let things get to the intimate stage. With Tam, he’d done neither and never could come up with a reason why.
Removing his Stetson, he shrugged off her concern and set it on the desk. “It wasn’t a big deal. A little residual weakness is all that’s left of the encounter, which is why I’m here, putting myself at your mercy,” he teased.
“You are never at anyone’s mercy,” she countered with the ease of someone who knew him well. “Sit on the mat and let me check your range of motion to start. How much pain are you in?”
Connor sat on the raised, padded mat, dreading Tamara’s hands on him. It wasn’t the pain that worried him, but damned if he could understand what it was he was growing more and more uncomfortable with since walking in and discovering she would be his therapist despite being overjoyed at seeing and talking to her again. Like the rest of her, her hands were fine-boned and delicate, but when she placed them on his shoulder and lower arm and lifted, it didn’t surprise him to feel the strength in her grip regardless of her slender frame. She’d grown into a talented, accomplished horsewoman since the day he rescued her from toppling off her first horse, and she’d been handling that massive steed of hers with admirable skill and strong arms since her father had gifted her with the colt on her sixteenth birthday.
What did surprise him and caught him off guard was the warmth spreading up his arm that had nothing to do with the pain radiating from his shoulder as she maneuvered the joint back and forth, up and down and then in circles. Shifting on the mat in uncomfortable awareness, he reminded himself of who she was. This is Tam, the cute kid I’ve been looking out for for years. The young woman with stars in her eyes who has home and hearth written all over her. He needed to remember that, repeat it as often as necessary to keep from putting a wedge in their special relationship again like he had before she moved away.
“Hurt?” she asked, raising his arm straight up.
“A little. Not bad.”
She smirked, her pewter eyes twinkling as she looked down at him. “Would you admit it if it did?”
He grinned up at her and shook his head. “Nope.”
“Men,” she muttered, letting go of his arm. “You’re stiff, the muscles are tight and weak. Knowing you, you probably ignored the doctor’s orders to take it easy and not overdo.”
She pivoted and walked over to a file cabinet next to the desk. Connor tried and failed not to notice the way her firm ass shifted under the loose uniform pants. Looking away, he gritted his teeth, chastising himself for wondering how those cheeks would look draped over his lap. Damn it, she wasn’t for him, or anyone else to dally with for that matter. Her innocence had always appealed to him in an over-protective, macho manner and kept him from looking at her as anyone other than the young kid he’d befriended, and now the woman whose friendship he cherished and wanted back to keep. Not to mention whose well being he’d taken upon himself to ensure the first time he glimpsed the sheer grit etched on her pixie face as fear lurked in her eyes as she struggled to stay astride her first horse.
Connor stood as Tam walked back toward him holding several sheets of paper. “I’ll go over some of these exercises and stretches with you and you can use the pulleys on the wall before you go. I recommend using the least amount of weight for now and to concentrate more on stretching and loosening the muscles than strengthening.”
He looked at the sketches and frowned at the limitation she suggested. “I have a ranch to work. I can’t remain in limbo much longer,” he told her, trying to rein in his frustration. Inactivity didn’t sit well with him.
“I know that, Con, but if you continue to do too much too soon, you’ll only hinder your progress and extend the time it’ll take to regain your full strength.”