Heartbreaker. Laurie Paige

her life’s passion was threatened. The dance company director had made it clear she couldn’t return without a clean bill of health.

      Not only that, she wasn’t even allowed to drive. Her license was temporarily suspended due to her collapse, until a doctor determined that she was well enough to manage a car. It was simply too much.

      “Hello, Susan,” Michael said in a deep voice that caused the tension level in the room to soar.

      Although she’d been aware of him entering the house, unexpected tremors vibrated through her, like a string plucked carelessly and too hard by someone who was not a musician. She inhaled sharply, aware of the heightened pulse beating in her temple, and filled her senses with the scent of talc, men’s cologne and the freshness of the evening that clung to his powerful frame.

      After placing the last plate on the table, she tossed a casual smile his way. “Nice to see you again.”

      She’d be polite if it killed her. Rose didn’t need to be upset by strain between her and this overconfident surgeon. Needing to go between him and the table to return to the kitchen, she hesitated as she eyed the space.

      He was about six inches taller than her five feet, eight inches. A perfect height for ballroom dancing, the thought came to her. She loved all forms of the art.

      Meeting the intense blue of his eyes, she murmured, “Excuse me,” and waited for him to move out of her way.

      He didn’t.

      To her chagrin, he took her hand in his, then laid the fingertips of his other hand against her wrist.

      “Don’t,” she warned.

      He counted, then released her hand. “One hundred and five.” He informed her of her heart rate as if he’d taken on responsibility for her health.

      “I’m not your patient,” she whispered in a near snarl.

      “Chalk it up to my job. It’s worrisome when someone ignores the obvious. How long do you think your heart can keep up that pace?”

      She swept past him. Seeing Rose’s concerned gaze, she forced a smile and kept her hands by her sides, although the familiar pain stabbed at her chest. She breathed very deeply, willing her body to slow down and relax.

      Her pulse was fast only because Michael O’Day, famous heart surgeon, made her so blasted angry. He probably tortured his patients into letting him operate.

      At that ridiculous idea, she had to grin. She was letting all this turmoil affect her too much.

      “Well,” she said when they sat down for the meal, “here we are. Two Wainwrights—” she indicated herself and Rose “—two Carsons—” she nodded toward Flynt and Matt “—and two referees to keep the peace.” She gestured toward Josie and Michael.

      Susan was pleased when the other five laughed at her little jab about the infamous Carson-Wainwright feud. Their father had been furious when he learned Rose, the sweet, quiet one in the family, was pregnant. He’d nearly had a hemorrhage when he learned the father belonged to the Carson clan.

      “Rose is a Carson now,” Matt said with obvious satisfaction.

      Susan shook her head. “No way. Maybe half and half, but certainly no more.”

      “These modern women,” Michael complained. “Life was simpler when we could just kidnap them and drag them off to join the male’s clan.”

      “In some tribes, the male joined the female’s family,” Susan said, quick to point out this fact.

      A cry from the bedroom had Josie leaping to her feet and fleeing the room, Flynt right behind her.

      “Lena,” Rose explained.

      The couple returned to the dining room carrying a bundle of pink. The baby girl blinked sleepily at the adults, then puckered up again.

      “The bottle,” Flynt said, and rushed to the refrigerator. He brought a baby bottle to Josie. “Would you like me to feed her so you can eat?”

      Josie shook her head. “Please, all of you, don’t let your food get cold. This will only take a few minutes.”

      The surrogate mother fed the hungry little girl while the other adults watched in open fascination.

      “How old is she now?” Susan asked.

      “About six months, we think,” Josie told her. “The doctor said she wasn’t more than eight to ten weeks old when she was found. How could her mother bear to leave her?”

      Susan pressed a hand to her chest as fresh pain surged there. How, indeed, could anyone leave a child?

      “I operated on a six-month-old in June,” Michael said, a pensive look on his face. “He had a hole between the chambers of his heart.”

      Flynt gave his friend a worried glance. “How did he do?”

      Susan’s heart did a little dance against her breastbone when Michael smiled.

      “Fine. He was a fighter from the start. Now his mother says she can’t keep him out of trouble. He crawls all over the house and gets into everything.”

      Susan was surprised at how relieved she felt at the happy ending to Michael’s story concerning the child. Her eyes were drawn to Baby Lena. Her own mother had almost given up on grandchildren. Justin, her brother, had once been married, but that had ended in divorce and no children. Now they had Rose’s baby to look forward to.

      At ten, when Rose served coffee and dessert, Susan realized she was really tired. She’d have to wait until everyone left, though, so Matt could drive her home.

      As if on cue, Matt spoke up. “Uh, Michael, would you mind dropping Susan off at her place on your way home?”

      “Not at all.” Michael leveled a sardonic glance on her. “I probably should go since I have to return to Houston in the morning. If you’re ready, Susan?”

      She realized there was absolutely nothing she could say but yes. She hugged her sister, told Josie what a lovely job she was doing with Lena, bid the Carson brothers good-night and allowed Michael to escort her from the house.

      In the car, with moonlight softly illuminating the landscape and the cool night air flowing through her hair, Susan fumed silently, determined not to quarrel or even speak for the duration of the ride. Thank goodness it wouldn’t be long, for the Wainwright ranch adjoined the Carson spread along one side.

      “Is it too windy?” he asked. “Shall I put the top up?”

      “I’m fine.”

      “It was a good thing Flynt took the baby, wasn’t it?”

      “I suppose.”

      “The foundling brought Josie into his life. She’s been good for him, I think, just as Rose had been good for Matt.”

      “Mmm,” she said.

      Michael enjoyed needling her into conversation, such as it was. He had to fight a grin as her answers grew shorter and shorter. “Why don’t you say what you’re thinking before you explode?” he suggested.

      “And what is that?” she asked haughtily.

      “That you’d rather ride on a bony mule than in a car with me.”

      “Personally, I can’t see much difference.”

      That did it. He burst into laughter while she flashed him a killing glance from those cool green eyes. “I’ve always been attracted to a woman of quick wit and a fiery temperament,” he murmured.

      He was certainly attracted to this woman, he admitted. Flames singed his insides as they rode through the balmy September night. He had the feeling she wasn’t indifferent, either, although she pretended he didn’t exist at the moment, focusing her attention on the moonlight-flooded fields.

      “Beautiful