Her Private Bodyguard. Gayle Wilson

      “Oh, please,” she said dismissingly, her tone mocking.

      “Not a ranch hand, and not a beau. You keeping secrets from old Doc Burgess, Valerie?”

      “Maybe I should. The truth sounds pretty far-fetched,” she warned. “Actually, it sounds downright ridiculous. And I don’t particularly want to become a laughingstock.”

      The nurse handed Halley something, keeping it behind Val’s back and out of sight, as if Val wouldn’t know what was going on. She couldn’t help smiling at that not-sosubtle subterfuge.

      “I could use a good joke,” Halley said as he prepared the needle.

      Val grimaced at the sting. She wasn’t sure if Halley’s comment about needing to hear a good joke was a reaction to her amusement at the nurse’s tactics or to her saying she didn’t want to become a laughingstock. And it didn’t really matter. She supposed she would have to tell him the truth in any case.

      “He’s my bodyguard,” she said.

      Halley’s hands hesitated, hovering a couple of inches over her temple. “Did you say…bodyguard?”

      She started to nod, but he had already put his fingers on her chin, turning her head slightly to position it. He slid the needle in once more, on the other side of the gash this time. The local anesthetic must have already started to work, because the sting wasn’t nearly so bad.

      “I told you it was ridiculous,” she said. “Something to do with an insurance policy the company took out on Dad. It seems that when I inherited his part of Av-Tech, I also inherited that policy. Its terms require that I have a security system on the ranch. Since I don’t, they sent him out to guard me until I can get one put in.”

      “Well, he looks tough enough to handle most any kind of security,” Halley said. “Bodyguard, huh?”

      She heard his chuckle as he took the suture needle the nurse handed him. It would take a minute or two for the local to take effect, so she suspected that she was going to have to give Halley the whole story while they waited.

      “If he’s supposed to be guarding you, how come he let that horse beat you up?” he asked.

      “He’s the one who dragged me out from under him.” Then she hesitated, knowing what she was about to say was the truth, even if she wasn’t overly eager to confess it. “I guess if he hadn’t been there, I could have really been hurt.”

      “Is that when you reinjured your knee?” Halley asked.

      She had been grateful when the doctor had made no comment on her limping progress into the examination room. Her leg had stiffened up royally on the ride over here, so that climbing out of the Jeep had been a test of will. Grey had offered his hand, and again she had been forced to accept, leaning on his arm as they slowly made their way inside the office.

      The feel of his fingers lingered in her head. They had been rough, a little callused. A working man’s hands. And under her forearm they had felt every bit as strong and steady as they looked.