AN INNOCENT MAN Page 3

  Strong-willed didn't even begin to describe him. He had the most iron determination of anyone she'd ever met. She walked to the door, watching the regular rise and fall of his chest. She had no doubts at all that the rest of Pine Butte would find out about that strong will whenever he decided to let them know why he'd come back. Whatever he wanted, she thought with a frisson of apprehension, she had no doubt he would get it.

  * * *

  The sun was just rising over the mountains when Sarah's alarm clock went off for the last time. Stumbling off the couch in her waiting room, she made her way to the clinic bedroom and opened the door. Fear caught in her throat when she saw the bed was empty.

  Hurrying to the other side, she was only slightly reassured to see he hadn't fallen out of the bed. Noting the closed bathroom door, her eyes narrowed as she waited for him to emerge.

  He walked out wearing nothing but the damned purple briefs and the bandages around his chest and leg. Swallowing once, she forced herself to ignore his wide chest and narrow hips and long, muscled legs. Keeping her eyes on his face, she scowled and said, "What are you doing out of bed?"

  He watched her for a moment, his eyes challenging her, then a slow, sexy grin lit his face. "Nature called," he drawled. "As much as I would have enjoyed having you hold a bedpan for me, I figured I could make it on my own."

  "Well, you figured wrong," she snapped. She could feel her face flaming but held tightly to her anger, forcing from her mind the images his words had generated. "You shouldn't be out of bed yet."

  "But I am," he said easily. "I didn't fall over, rip out my stitches or poke a hole in my lungs. In short, I'm fine."

  "You're hardly fine, Mr. MacCormac," she answered tartly, and pulled back the sheets on the bed. "You need to stay in bed for the next twenty-four hours at the least."

  "You're the boss." A faint smile crossed his face as he settled on the bed and pulled the blanket up to his chest.

  For some reason, that smile fanned the flames of her temper. It even took her mind off his nearly naked body. "You're darn right I'm the boss, and I have no intention of letting you injure yourself more severely while you're staying in my clinic. From now on, if you need anything, you can call me and I'll get it for you."

  Raising his eyebrows, he shifted and sat up a little straighter. The sheet slipped down another couple of inches. "Okay, then, how about some breakfast? My stomach is telling me it's missed a few meals."

  Why did she feel like she was losing control of this situation? "What would you like?" She hoped her voice sounded cool and authoritative and not as flustered as she felt. It was that damned hairy chest of his that was distracting her.

  "Pancakes, waffles, toast, bacon, whatever you've got," he answered, waving his hand in the air. "I'm not picky, just hungry."

  "I'll get something from Earlene's across the street and be right back," she muttered.

  Closing the door of the room gently, just so he knew she wasn't running away, she leaned against the wall for a moment. She had to get rid of him today. If he refused to let the evacuation helicopter come get him, maybe she could drive him to the hospital in Glenwood Springs. He really did need to have a doctor look at him. She was confident in her diagnosis, but she wasn't a doctor and she could have missed something.

  Having Connor MacCormac in town was bad enough. Finding herself attracted to him was unspeakably appalling. No matter how often she reminded herself of what had happened twelve years ago, it didn't stop her pulse from speeding up every time she looked at him. And the gleam that lurked in the back of those bright blue eyes didn't help in the least.

  She unlocked the front door of her clinic and ran across the street to the town's only restaurant. Earlene Hendricks called out from behind the counter, "Morning, Sarah. Hear you've got an overnight patient in the clinic."

  By now, she had no doubt, every single soul in Pine Butte had heard about the accident and who the victim had been. Resigning herself to Earlene's endless questions, she sank onto one of the stools at the counter and answered, "Yeah, I do, and he's hungry this morning. Can you make me up some pancakes and eggs and sausage?"

  A moment later Sarah heard the hiss of pancake batter hitting the hot griddle. Then Earlene came around the counter and poured her a cup of coffee, a look of avid curiosity on her face.

  "What does he look like?"

  "Older." Taking a drink of the hot, strong coffee, Sarah set the cup down and wrapped her hand around it. Her fingers tightening, she added, "But enough the same that I recognized him."

  "Did he say anything about, you know, Barb?" Ignoring the two men who'd just walked into the diner, Earlene leaned forward, crossing her arms over her generous bosom.

  "He's mostly been unconscious." Sarah's voice was sharper than she intended, and she took another swallow of coffee. "He hasn't had a chance to say much of anything."

  Giving her a long look, Earlene reluctantly headed to the kitchen. "You don't know why he's come back here, then?"

  "No idea." She'd spent the better part of the night sleepless, wondering the same thing. "And, knowing him, we'll find out when he's good and ready to tell us."

  Earlene walked out front, two aluminum containers in her hands and a fierce look on her face. "He gives you any trouble, Sarah, you just tell Sheriff Tom. He'll know what to do with the likes of Connor MacCormac. After all you have been through, and for what you mean to this town, we won't let nobody bother you."

  "Thanks, Earlene." Her eyes burned, and she told herself she was just overtired. For all that she dreamed of getting away, Pine Butte was her home and she knew the people here cared about her.

  The cook shoved the two boxes at her. "I made one for you, too. You look a little peaked."

  "Thanks," she said again, and headed out the door. The two men who'd come in while she was talking to Earlene greeted her, and she saw a dozen questions in their eyes. She just nodded at them and kept going. She was too tired to tolerate endless inquisitions about the man lying in her clinic.

  * * *

  The click of the door closing reverberated like a gunshot off the four walls surrounding him. Connor eased himself a little higher in bed, ignoring the screams of protest from his bones and muscles, and allowed himself a brief smile as he recalled the fire in her eyes. Little Sarah Wesley was irritated with him. She'd had that same look in her eyes whenever he'd teased her twelve long years ago.

  For just a moment he let himself dwell on the clouds of burnished copper hair that seemed to float around her face, on her clear blue-green eyes, on her strong, slender body. Even when she'd been just a kid he'd known instinctively that the shy, gawky adolescent who blushed whenever he looked at her would turn into a beauty.

  And now Barb Wesley's baby sister was all grown up. The bitter laughter stuck in his throat. "Don't even think about it," he warned himself harshly. What could be more ironic than being attracted to Barb Wesley's little sister? He was sure someone would see the humor in the situation, but it wouldn't be him.

  No, he had to stay as far away from Sarah Wesley as he could during his stay in Pine Butte. His brief stay, he hoped. He'd take care of his business and get out of town as fast as he could. Maybe this time he could forget that Pine Butte, Colorado, even existed.

  The knock on the door was quiet, almost as if she hoped he'd fallen asleep again. "Come in," he called, beating down the anticipation. He was just hungry, he told himself. The door opened and she walked in, carrying a large aluminum container. She wheeled over a bedside tray, set his breakfast on it and fumbled in the pocket of a rumpled-looking sweater for his utensils. Without ever looking directly at him, she opened the container of pancakes, eggs and sausage, then cranked the head of his bed higher. Finally, drawing a deep breath, she looked him in the eye. "Is there anything else you need?"

  "A cup of coffee would be nice.

  She shook her head. "Sorry. I'm not going to give you caffeine just yet. I don't want anything to raise your blood pressure. How about some herbal t
ea?"

  "I can't drink that slop. Just get me a glass of water. Please."

  If she didn't want to raise his blood pressure, she shouldn't walk like that, he thought sourly as she left the room. The graceful sway of her hips and legs in the snug, worn jeans was making his blood pound.

  She returned in a moment, setting a glass of ice water on the tray with a snap. "I'm going to be busy today," she said abruptly. "I'll check on you when I can, but I'll be tied up for a while. If you need anything, there's a buzzer over the bed."

  Twisting around in the bed, he found the buzzer and pressed it before she was out the door.

  As she turned slowly he saw the anger, quickly suppressed, that flashed across her face. "What do you need?"

  "Only my clothes."

  Her mouth tightened and she stepped into the room. "Sorry, Mr. MacCormac. You're not getting any clothes until tomorrow at the earliest. If you refuse to let a doctor look at you, the least you can do is stay where you are until I'm certain that there's nothing more serious wrong with you."

  "Look, I know—" He clamped his mouth shut on the words. What he knew and why he knew it was nobody's business but his own. "I'm fine, Ms. Wesley." His voice was flat. "I appreciate your hospitality, but I need to be on my way. Now get me my clothes, please."

  Triumph flashed in her eyes. "Your jeans won't do you much good. I had to cut them off you. I had to cut your shirt off, too. So right now, you don't have any clothes for me to get."

  "What about my pack and the stuff on my bike? Where's all that?"

  "I don't know." She frowned and jammed her hands into the pockets of her sweater. "I'll ask the sheriff. He probably brought it into town."

  "I'll need to talk to him, then."

  "I'm sure he'll want to see you. He has to fill out an accident report form." Her voice was cool. "When I see him, I'll ask him to stop by."

  She left the room before he could answer, closing the door firmly behind her. For a moment he tensed, ready to crawl out of bed and follow her until she agreed to do what he wanted. Then he smelled the aroma of Earlene's sausage and pancakes and decided that he could wait for a while. He'd almost forgotten how hungry he was.

  Twenty minutes later, the aluminum container was empty and he felt much better. He still ached abominably everywhere, but the pounding in his head had lessened to a dull drumbeat. He couldn't take a deep breath without wincing, and his leg still throbbed, but he was damned lucky.

  Remembering the way the car had veered toward him deliberately, he knew he was fortunate to be sitting up in this bed in this clinic. He could just as easily have been lying in a drawer in the morgue at the county seat.

  Pushing the tray away from the bed, he started to swing his legs onto the floor, but paused as they screamed in pain. Maybe he should take it easy for a while longer. According to Sarah, he didn't have any clothes, anyway. A few more hours of rest and he'd be ready to take on the town of Pine Butte. Sliding down beneath the sheets, he closed his eyes and was immediately asleep.

  He awakened a few hours later knowing someone stood next to his bed. Opening his eyes, he looked for Sarah's familiar face but found a short, stocky man in a uniform instead.

  "How're you feeling, MacCormac?"

  "Like I fell off a mountain," he retorted, inching upward against the headboard. He looked at the man standing in front of him, wondering why he looked familiar. "You must be the sheriff."

  "Tom Johnson," the other man answered, holding out his hand. The flicker of apprehension in his eyes was so unexpected that for a second Connor wondered if he'd imagined it.

  With a barely noticeable start Connor reached out and firmly shook the sheriff's hand. "Connor MacCormac. Pleased to meet you. Are you the one that found me?"

  The sheriff nodded, his eyes clearing. "And damn lucky you were that I did, too. If it hadn't been for the sun reflecting off that motorcycle of yours, you'd still be lying up there."

  "I owe you, Sheriff."

  Tom Johnson waved his hand. "Just doing my job." He jerked his head in the direction of the door. "I left your pack and the stuff in the panniers of your bike with Sarah. Had the bike taken over to the service station. Billy Sullivan over there'll be able to fix it up, I think. He's damn clever with machines."

  "Thank you." His voice warmed up as he looked at Pine Butte's lawman. "I appreciate all the trouble you've gone to."

  The sheriff shrugged. "It's not a big deal." Apprehension, quickly hidden by a grin, passed over his face. "From what I've heard, your being back in town sounds like it's going to provide a lot of entertainment around here. I'm all for anything that livens up this place."

  He couldn't detect an ounce of malice in the sheriff's voice, and Connor relaxed and smiled back. "I suppose you're right. People in small towns don't forget much."

  "You remember that, MacCormac, and you'll be fine."

  He wasn't likely to forget. "What did you need to know, Sheriff?" The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could get his clothes and leave.

  "Just tell me what happened. I've got to fill out a report for the state, seeing that it was a state highway you fell off of."

  "First of all, I didn't fall. I was pushed."

  Tom Johnson stood up straighter and pushed his hat back. "What do you mean, you were pushed?"

  "Just what I said." In a hard voice, Connor told him about the car that was going too fast, and how it swerved toward him at the last minute, grazing him and pushing him off the road. "That's how I got this," he said, gesturing toward the cut on his leg. "I think the fender caught me."

  Tom pulled up a chair and turned it around, resting his arms on the back as he looked at Connor. "That kind of puts a whole different slant on things. Are you saying it was on purpose?"

  Connor shrugged. "I have no idea. Nobody knew I was coming here, so it's not like anyone could have been waiting for me. But that car didn't slow down, and it did seem to swerve right at me."

  "You see what kind of car it was? Color, make, anything?"

  "Sorry. I was thinking more about saving my skin at the time."

  After a few moments Tom stood up, looking troubled and somehow anguished. "Let's just keep this between the two of us for now, MacCormac. I want to look into it a little. Are you going to be staying here for a while?"

  "For about another fifteen minutes. As soon as I can get my clothes from Ms. Wesley, I'll be out of here. I'll be staying at my mother's for as long as I'm in Pine Butte." He paused, his jaw tightening. "I'm sure any of the good citizens can tell you where her house is."

  "I'll get back to you." The sheriff paused at the door, a worried look on his face. "You be careful. There seem to be a lot of strong feelings about you here in Pine Butte."

  Connor's mouth twisted. "Don't worry, Sheriff. I'm used to that in this town." He looked at the other man for a moment, that odd feeling of knowing him returning more strongly. "How long have you been sheriff here?"

  Ton Johnson looked uncomfortable with the question, and Connor sat up a little straighter, watching him.

  "Nine years, give or take a few months."

  "You from somewhere around here?" Connor asked casually.

  "Meeker." The sheriff licked his lips. "I was on the police force and applied for the job here. The rest, as they say, is history."

  Connor nodded slowly, deciding that his concussion had scrambled his brain. He couldn't have seen Tom Johnson before today. He'd never spent any time in Meeker as a kid. "I'm sure as hell glad you moved here, Sheriff."

  The other man gave him an odd look, then finally smiled. "I guess you should be, MacCormac."

  Connor stared at the floor for a while after the sheriff had left, his mouth twisted. Tom Johnson had no doubt heard all the stories about him as a kid. He was probably wondering if he was going to have trouble with him now, Connor thought with an echo of childhood pain. Well, he didn't give a damn what anyone in Pine Butte thought of him.

  He had other things to worry about, anyway. Such as who
had tried to run him off the road. Nobody knew the exact date he would show up, but at least one person could have guessed he'd come back. The contents of that anonymous note practically guaranteed that sooner or later he would have to face Pine Butte again.

  Maybe it had been coincidence and pure, blind luck. But whatever it had been, he reluctantly acknowledged, the driver of that car had tried to kill him. He'd accelerated and swerved right at him. There had been nothing accidental about it.

  Yeah, he'd be watching his back while he was here in Pine Butte.

  Reaching around, he pressed the buzzer impatiently. A few minutes later, a young woman he'd never seen before stuck her head in the door.

  "Did you need something, Mr. MacCormac?"

  "Yeah, my clothes."

  "Okay."

  Her head disappeared, then returned almost immediately. "Sorry, Sarah says you can't have them yet." She closed the door quickly at the expression on his face.

  Slowly he swung his legs off the bed, then rested for a moment until his head stopped pounding. Holding onto the tray stand for support, he pulled himself out of bed and stood on the floor, swaying.

  He cataloged all of his aches and pains and decided they were bearable. He didn't want to stay here and have to torture himself with Sarah Wesley and the past any longer than he had to.

  He managed to make it halfway down the hall before she saw him. Hurrying from one exam to the other, she stopped dead when she spotted him shuffling down the hall. Her eyes flickered down his body once, then with a surge of color in her cheeks she stared at his face.

  "What are you doing?" she asked in a stage whisper. "Get back in that bed."

  "Not until you give me my clothes." His voice was implacable.

  "One of my patients is going to come out of that room any minute and see you," she said frantically. "You can't stand around in the hall naked like that."

  "That's why I want my clothes."