Her Maverick M.d.. Teresa Southwick

enough for six ringed a wood plank dance floor. Booths with a more intimate feel lined the room’s perimeter.

      Jon pointed to an empty one and put his other hand to the small of her back. “Let’s sit over there.”

      Dawn would have preferred a bar stool and less intimacy, especially because the heat of his fingers fried the rational thought circuits of her brain. By the time connections reestablished, any protest would have required an explanation and she didn’t want to go there. Besides, it was only for one drink and then she was gone.

      “Okay,” she said.

      It was a weeknight in early August and the place was only half-full—mostly cowboys, a few couples and ladies who hung out in groups. No one noticed them cross to the booth but Dawn couldn’t help noticing Jon behind her. And hated that she did.

      After they’d barely settled in the booth, the owner of the bar walked over. Rosey Shaw Traven was somewhere in her sixties and quite a character in her own right. In her customary peasant blouse, leather vest with wide belt, jeans and boots, she could have been the captain of a pirate ship. Only her short dark hair pegged her as a contemporary heroine and her brown eyes snapped with humor and worldly wisdom. No one messed with Rosey and if they were stupid enough to try, Sam Traven, her retired navy SEAL husband, made them regret it.

      “Hi, Dawn. Good to see you.” Rosey’s assessing gaze rested on her companion. “I know you’ve been in here before, but I can’t place you.”

      “Jon Clifton. Will’s brother.”

      “Right.” She nodded at the scrubs he still wore. “The new doctor.”

      Dawn’s stomach twisted at the words that still haunted her. That was bad enough, but the way he smiled and looked so boyishly handsome added an element of heat that tipped into temptation. No matter how sternly she warned herself not to, this was the way she’d felt just before the rug was pulled out from under her. This idea was getting worse by the second.

      Rosey put a hand on her curvy hip. “What can I get you two?”

      “A couple of beers.” Jon looked across the table, a question in his eyes.

      “I don’t really like beer.”

      “What would you like?” he asked.

      To run for the exit, she thought. A little bit of panic was starting to set in. She wanted to tell him he really didn’t care what she wanted, but Rosey was standing right there. “White wine, please. Chardonnay.”

      “Okay. Beer, white wine. Any appetizers?”

      Jon looked at her again, then made an executive decision. “Chips and salsa. I’m starving.”

      “Coming right up.” The bar owner walked away, her full hips swaying.

      Jon looked around. “How long has this place been around?”

      She shrugged. “No idea.”

      “It’s got a lot of local color. Could have been here a hundred years ago.”

      “Yup.”

      “Do you come here often?” he asked.

      “Girls night out once in a while. With my sister, Marina, now and then.” She looked everywhere but at him.

      The awkward silence was getting more awkward when Rosey arrived carrying a tray with their drinks, a basket of tortilla chips and a bowl of salsa.

      “If you want to order dinner, just let me know.” She smiled at them. “I’m probably not the first one to say this, but you two make a cute couple.”

      The comment shocked the words right out of Dawn, and Rosey was gone before she could set the woman straight. The new doctor didn’t seem at all bothered and held up his beer bottle.

      “Let’s drink to—”

      “Don’t you dare say to us,” she warned.

      “Why would I?”

      “It’s what guys do.”

      He frowned. “Not this guy. But I get the feeling some other guy did a number on you.”

      Bingo. But she had to ask, “Why do you say that?”

      “Evasive answer. Interesting,” he observed.

      “Not to me.” She took a sip of the cold, crisp wine and made a silent toast. Here’s to never being a fool again, she thought.

      “Look, Dawn, you’ve been hostile since the day we met. And just now you made a disparaging comment about men in general.” He sipped his beer but never took his eyes off her. “This is pretty far out there, but I doubt there’s much I could say to make things any worse. So, here goes. I get along pretty well with people, try not to tick them off and it works. I’ve bent over backward to be friendly with you but every time I crash and burn. The only thing I can come up with is that I remind you of a guy who dumped you. Feel free to point and laugh at my theory.”

      Dawn wasn’t laughing. Mostly she was amazed at his insight. “That’s pretty close.”

      “Seriously?” He looked astonished. “I got it right? That’s what’s been bugging you?”

      “Either you think I’m a psychotic victim or you’re surprised at yourself.”

      “The latter. No one would peg me as someone who could figure out what a woman is thinking.” The doctor looked decidedly pleased with himself.

      Dawn was not pleased and couldn’t resist a dig. “It took you long enough.”

      “In my defense, you didn’t give very many clues, what with not talking to me.” He snagged a chip and dipped it in the salsa, then took a bite. After chewing he said, “So what happened?”