Never Been Kissed. Linda Turner

my chemistry lab partner in college.”

      The name conjured up images of a tall, gangly kid who had been all arms and legs and six foot five if he was an inch. Frowning, Reilly nodded. “Yeah. He should have played basketball. What about him?”

      “I ran into him last month at a convention and he was telling me about an uncle of his who’s looking for someone to join his family medical practice and eventually take it over so he can retire. His name’s Dan Michaels. I think you should consider calling him.”

      “I’m a heart surgeon, Tony.”

      “You’re a doctor,” he reminded him. “You take care of sick people. Just because you normally spend your days operating on people’s hearts doesn’t mean you can’t treat colds and allergies and high blood pressure instead. Think about it. It might be a really nice change for you.”

      Reilly had to admit he had a point. There’d been a time when he’d thrived on the stress and challenge of surgery. But that was before he’d lost Victoria. Now the operating room—like everything else—held little appeal. But a family practitioner? Could he be content with that?

      “So where is this uncle’s practice?”

      “Colorado,” he replied. “A little town called Liberty Hill. From what I understand, it’s southwest of Colorado Springs. It’s right in the middle of ranching country, but Aspen’s not that far away.”

      It sounded like a wide spot in the road, as different from L.A. as day was from night, and Reilly knew that if he had any sense, he’d laugh in his brother’s face and tell him to think again. If he was going to start his life over, it was going to be someplace where he could at least get Brie without people asking him what it was.

      But even as he tried to convince himself that he needed to live someplace more sophisticated, he knew it didn’t matter. L.A., New York, Liberty Hill, Colorado. What difference did it make where he lived? Without Victoria, he wouldn’t care if he was in the middle of the Sahara.

      “All right, I’ll give this Dr. Michaels a call if it’ll make you happy,” he said with a grimace. “Give me the number.”

      Chapter 1

      The rain was a cold mist that stretched as far as the horizon in every direction. Surrounded by rolling ranchland on all sides, Reilly noted the highway sign that informed him he was ten miles from Liberty Hill and knew just how Dorothy must have felt when she found herself in Oz. He wasn’t in Kansas—or L.A.—anymore, and he couldn’t help wondering if he’d made a mistake by accepting Dr. Michaels’s offer to join his practice. It was, however, too late to back out now. He’d already sold his practice and everything else in L.A. Even if he decided he wanted to go back to California, there was nothing to go back to.

      Which meant that, like it or not, he was stuck with a new life in Colorado. A life without Victoria. If it looked less than appealing at the moment, he couldn’t find the strength to care. His blue eyes bleak with despair, he continued toward Liberty Hill with little enthusiasm, the steady beat of the windshield wipers echoing the lonely beat of his heart.

      Lost in his misery, he didn’t notice there was a problem with his car until the motor suddenly began to make an odd sound. Surprised, he glanced down at the dash and swore at the sight of the Check Engine light flashing at him angrily. Immediately lifting his foot from the accelerator, he slowed down and carefully eased over to the shoulder.

      It wasn’t until he reached for his cell phone and came up empty-handed that he remembered he’d thrown the damn thing away the day before he left L.A. He hadn’t been able to do anything but grieve for Victoria, and he’d taken a long, solitary drive around L.A. He’d been gone for hours. Later he couldn’t have said where he’d gone—he hadn’t cared. He’d just wanted to be left alone. No one, however, had respected that. First his partners had called him one by one to check on him, then his brother. They’d all just wanted to make sure he was okay, which he’d assured each of them he was, then he’d hung up and tossed the phone out the window. In the never-ending stream of cars that raced the city freeways, the phone had been instantly smashed. Relieved, he hadn’t bought another because he hadn’t thought he would need one where he was going.

      Which meant he was now stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no way to call for a tow truck. Glancing ahead, then in his rearview mirror, he swore roundly. The road curved among the rolling hills before it disappeared over the hill in the distance, and there wasn’t another car in sight in either direction. Liberty Hill was ten miles away. It was going to be a long, cold walk.

      Another man might have lifted the hood and at least given the motor a quick look before facing a ten-mile hike under such miserable conditions, but Reilly knew his strengths and weaknesses. He could perform the most intricate heart surgery with his eyes practically closed, but a mechanic he was not. Muttering curses, he turned on his emergency flashers, grabbed his jacket and keys and pushed open his door.

      His thoughts already focused on the long walk ahead of him, he didn’t see the red Jeep that came around the curve behind him until it pulled up beside him. The electric window on the passenger’s side silently lowered, and from across the width of the vehicle, the woman driver shot him a sympathetic smile. “I saw your flashers. Anything I can do to help?”

      If Reilly needed further proof that he was a long way from home, she just gave it to him. No one in L.A., especially a woman alone, stopped to help someone who appeared to be in trouble—not if she valued her life. For all she knew, he could be an ax murderer.

      But if she was the least bit leery, she certainly didn’t show it. The passenger window was all the way down, and he wouldn’t have doubted that the doors were unlocked. With one quick move, he could have been inside and had her in his clutches before she even knew what he was about. Granted, she could have driven off at the least sign of danger from him, but danger wasn’t always recognizable at first.

      Marveling at her bravery—and stupidity—he frowned at her in puzzlement. “I appreciate the offer, but you don’t know me from Adam and this is a lonely stretch of road. Didn’t your mother ever tell you to be wary of strangers?”

      Her lips curling into a half smile, she said, “Actually, it was my father who drilled that particular lesson into my head—which is why he bought me a shotgun when I was twelve and taught me how to use it. If you’d like, I can demonstrate.”

      “You mean you have it with you?”

      “Of course. It wouldn’t do me any good if it was locked away in a gun cabinet at home, would it?”

      She appeared to be dead serious, but Reilly would have sworn he caught a glimpse of mischief in her brown eyes before that was quickly blinked away. Intrigued, he arched a brow at her. “Does the sheriff know you drive around with a loaded gun in your car? That’s illegal, you know, if you don’t have a permit.”

      Far from worried, Janey McBride only grinned. Nick Kincaid, the local sheriff, was not only a friend, but her brother-in-law. As protective as her brothers, he’d chew her out for not carrying a gun if she even suggested driving the road to town and back without any means of protecting herself.

      “I’m not worried about the sheriff,” she said dryly. She had, in fact, called Nick the second she spied the unfamiliar BMW with its California license, sitting on the side of the road with its flashers on. It didn’t hurt to be too careful. “In fact, I think that’s him coming our way now,” she added, and nodded down the road to the patrol car that just came around the curve half a mile away. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to leave you in his hands and be on my way. I hope nothing’s seriously wrong with your car.”

      With a wave and a smile she drove off, leaving Reilly staring after her with a frown. She hadn’t even given him time to thank her for stopping—or given him a chance to ask her her name.

      The sheriff arrived then, circling around to park on the shoulder behind his car, the whirling lights on his lightbar warning anyone who approached from either direction to do so cautiously. A tall, lean man with