The Rebel Doc Who Stole Her Heart. Susan Carlisle

course, that outfit might draw attention if you did. You’d show so much thigh that you might be stopped for being a traffic hazard.” He chuckled.

      His grin grew when her head dipped in what could only be described as embarrassment. Unless he was mistaken, her cheeks were the same rosy pink he remembered her shoes as being. Something about her reaction made him believe that she wasn’t used to receiving compliments from men. That barbed-wire attitude of hers probably kept her from getting many. She was certainly attractive enough to receive them.

      “I have no interest in being a traffic hazard.” She opened the door of the car, slid in and slammed the door between them.

      She might not want to be one but the woman certainly had everything required.

      Ty moved on through the lot. It was necessary for her to pass him to leave. As she drove by her gaze found his and held for a second of awareness before she sped up and was gone.

      Yes, the next few weeks would unquestionably be interesting.

      Michelle pulled into the drive of her mother’s simple redbrick suburban home. It was located in a neighborhood where all the houses along the street looked similar. The curtains of the living-room window fluttered and her mother’s face appeared. Getting out of the car, Michelle opened the back passenger door and removed two plastic bags of groceries.

      She headed for the front door. Seconds before she reached it the door opened. “Mom, you didn’t need to get up. I could have let myself in.”

      Her tall but frail-looking mother, with a dusting of gray in her hair, smiled. “I know, dear, but you have your hands full.”

      “And the doctor said to take it easy for a while.”

      “I have been. You worry too much. What do doctors know anyway?” Her smile grew.

      Michelle returned her grin. It was a running joke between them. Her mother was very proud of Michelle and told her so often. As the only parent Michelle had left, she worried about her mother, unable to stand the thought of losing her in both body and spirit. Then she would be alone in the world.

      “Mom, why don’t you come and sit in the kitchen while I put these groceries away and see about getting us some supper?”

      “I’d like that. You can tell me about your day. You work too hard, you know. Doing surgery all day and then coming here to see about me.”

      That was also a continuing argument between them. One that neither one of them seemed to ever win.

      Her mother followed Michelle along the familiar hallway to the small but cozy kitchen. This was Michelle’s favorite room in the house. It was where she remembered her father best. Even years after his death she and her mother still didn’t sit in what was considered “his chair”.

      As Michelle prepared the simple meal, her mother chatted about the book she was reading and the neighborhood children who had stopped by to sell her cookies. Michelle felt bad that her mother had to spend so much time alone. She’d been such an active woman until the cancer had been discovered. Her recovery was coming along well but Michelle worried that her mother had lost hope. Worse, Michelle feared she might have. She fixed hearts. Cancer wasn’t her department. She had no control here and she was having a difficult time dealing with that fact.

      With all those years of medical school and all her surgical skills, she was no more capable of saving her mother than the guy down at the gas station. Cancer had a way of leveling the playing field. No one was more likely to live than another. The only thing anyone really shared was hope. That knowledge not only made her angry but it made her feel desperate.

      Michelle placed a plate in front of her mother and another at her own lifelong place. Filling their glasses with iced tea, she set them on the table and took her chair.

      “So, how was your day? Anything special happen?” her mother asked, as she poked at the roast chicken in front of her.

      Suddenly the broad-shouldered, unorthodox anesthesiologist with the dark unruly hair flashed into her mind. Of all the people to be the highlight of her day.

      “No, nothing special. My surgery cases went well, which always makes it a good day.”

      “You know you really should go out some.”

      Michelle let out an exasperated breath. She changed lives through surgery for the better almost daily and some days saved a life that would soon be lost. Despite that, her mother was still only interested in her dating. No matter how old or successful she became, her mother wanted her to find someone special.

      Michelle wasn’t against the idea. The right person just hadn’t come along. She had to admit that it would be nice to have a man in her life. A serious man who could understand her. It would be wonderful to have a marriage like her mom and dad’s had been.

      “Michelle, you have no fun in your life. You worked too hard. When you’re not at the hospital you spend your evenings here, visiting me. You need to live a little.”

      This had become an almost daily conversation. “Mom, I love spending time with you.”

      “Aren’t there any young men working at that hospital you might like?”

      The aggravating anesthesiologist’s twinkling eyes popped into her mind. “None that I’d ever be interested in.”

      Ty opened the door to the nondescript furnished apartment. His surroundings didn’t bother him. After years of living in other spaces like it, he was more than used to this type of place. At least there would be a roof over his head, which was more than he could say about his childhood.

      Pushing the large brown box with his name on it inside with his foot, he closed the door behind him. A cardboard box had become his suitcase of choice. His guitar should be delivered tomorrow. He’d arranged to have it shipped to the hospital so that someone would be around to sign for it and put it in a safe place. Sometimes he traveled with it on the bike but he didn’t like to. It was one of the few things he’d taken with him when he’d left his parents.

      He dropped his helmet on the chair closest to the door and headed for the kitchen. He placed the sack holding the package of gourmet coffee on the counter then looked for the coffeemaker. Great. The machine was a good one. It had been his only request.

      Doctors to Go, the service he worked for and was a fifty percent owner of, had seen that he had one. Ty had been working for the company a year when his friend had offered Ty part of the business. Owning nothing but a motorcycle and the clothes on his back, he’d saved his paychecks. There had also been the small amount he’d inherited when his grandfather had died, so he’d had the funds to invest.

      His partner ran the show and Ty stayed in the background as a very silent partner. No boardrooms or conference calls for him. One of the ideals that his grandfather had drummed into him early after he moved in with his grandparents had been to plan for the future. Something his parents would have never considered. He’d done as his grandfather had suggested, but he loved working with people so he still continued to practice medicine.

      He didn’t generally frequent grocery stores when he moved to a new city. Instead, he chose to take most of his meals at the hospital. Otherwise he asked around about local mom-and-pop places that served good down-home cooking. Ty had already been given a few names of places from a couple of the surgery team members. He’d try one of the restaurants on his day off.

      Ty prepared and set the coffeemaker to start percolating at five a.m., before he headed for the shower. Stripping off and turning the water on, he stepped under the shower head. Not all the places he’d stayed had had great showers but having one available was more than he’d had growing up. Rain barrels and creeks just didn’t compare to a hot spray with excellent water pressure.

      A muffled ring came from the clothes he’d dropped on the floor. He pushed the shower curtain back, picked up his discarded jeans and dug into the pocket for his phone. His partner had texted earlier that he would be calling about an issue with the business.

      “Smith