Cowboy Fever. Joanna Wayne

give your body time to heal. You need ice on the injured areas, several times a day, and I recommend that you keep that right arm in a sling for the next week to give it some extra support.”

      “Anything you say.”

      Would likely be ignored. Still she had to say it.

      “What about your car?” Dakota asked. “Have the cops located it?”

      “No, but hopefully they will soon.”

      “Do you have a ride to your apartment?”

      “Actually, it’s a town house, near the hospital.”

      “Do you live alone?”

      Her insides knotted. “No, Dakota. I don’t live alone.”

      “I don’t see a wedding band.”

      “I’m not married.”

      “Well, at least I can offer you a ride to the town house since you stayed extra hours with me.”

      “You don’t have a vehicle here.”

      “Actually, I do. Another buddy dropped off my truck and Jim gave him a lift back to the hotel.”

      “You shouldn’t be driving.”

      “The hotel’s only a few miles away and the pain meds have pretty much worn off. I’m in good shape— Well, at least I’m clearheaded.”

      “You’re in pain and should be keeping your right shoulder as still as possible.”

      He narrowed his gaze. “I’m left-handed.” He sat up, yanking the hospital gown so that he stayed completely covered. “I promise to get you home safely.”

      Her physical safety was not the issue. She’d be in his truck. It would smell like him and feel like him. He’d be near enough for her to hear his breathing, and his presence would roll through her in heated swells.

      “It’s just a ride home, Viviana. I’m not promoting anything here.”

      “Okay, Dakota. Sure. I’d appreciate the ride.”

      Her heart was pounding as she left the room. But one thing was for certain. He would not be staying for breakfast this time.

      DAKOTA TURNED THE KEY in the ignition, and his new Ford double cab pickup truck hummed to life. A George Strait tune blared from the radio and he reached over to lower the volume.

      Viviana set a blue laptop case on the floor at her feet. “Nice wheels.”

      “Thanks.”

      “I thought you loved your old pickup.”

      “I did, but it had over a hundred thousand tough miles on it. It was ready to bite the dust.”

      She ran her hand over the dashboard. “I like this one.”

      “Yep. It has all the bells and whistles.”

      The silence grew awkward, punctuated by an awareness that all but consumed him. He’d been getting over her, or at least making a damn good stab at it. Now she was reviving the old feelings, torching the unhealed scars she’d left all over his heart.

      He backed out of the parking spot. “Did the detective you called say whether or not there had been other armed carjackings in the area?”

      “He said car thefts are on the rise, but that there hasn’t been a carjacking in this area for a couple of years.”

      “Guess you never know when some thug will turn desperate.”

      “Apparently. Stay right when you leave the lot and then turn left at the light.”

      “Do you always work the late shift?” he asked once he’d made the turn.

      “Normally I work from eleven at night to seven in the morning.”

      “Why was tonight different?”

      “I was covering for a doctor friend who had tickets for a Michael Bublé concert.”

      “So she took your shift starting at eleven?”

      “No. I’m starting a three-day break, so I wasn’t on the schedule. E.R. hours run a little different from typical doctor’s hours.”

      “Guess the graveyard shift is the bane of first-year staff doctors?”

      “Not really. Having days off just suits my lifestyle better.”

      He understood what she meant. It gave her every evening at home with her significant other. The thought of her in another man’s arms settled like lead in Dakota’s stomach. Not that it surprised him. She’d never indicated she didn’t want a man in her life—just not him.

      “The next right,” she said. “After that it’s just a couple of blocks.”

      He did as she dictated, stopping in front of a two-story town house with a stone-and-wood fascia. A row of flowering shrubs set off a wide bay window. It was far more upscale than the small apartment she’d had as a resident back in Houston.

      He wondered if she still had the same furniture. The couch where she’d given him the first massage to ease his painful muscles. His groin tightened as he remembered where that had led.

      “Thanks for …”

      “You need to take care of …”

      They’d started talking at the exact same moment and their words became tangled.

      She laughed nervously. “It was good to see you again, Dakota.”

      “Yeah. You, too.” He leaned over, aching to kiss her, knowing it would be a big mistake.

      She opened her door and slid out as if fearing he might make a move on her. He opened his truck door.

      “Don’t bother walking me to the door, Dakota. You’re hurting, I’m exhausted and it really isn’t necessary.”

      He watched her walk away, the finality of their brief encounter searing into his mind. She had her life all figured out and there was no place in it for him.

      When she neared the house, motion lights flicked on. She looked back and waved. A few seconds later she turned the key in the lock and disappeared behind the dark wooden door.

      He sat there for a few minutes, letting the memories wreak havoc with his brain before gunning the engine and starting off to his lonely hotel room.

      He’d driven about four blocks when he stopped for a light and noticed Viviana’s laptop case still on the floor. She might need the computer first thing in the morning, so there was nothing to do but take it back to her. Imagine her live-in’s excitement to have an injured cowboy ring the bell in the wee hours of the morning.

      There was movement in the shrubbery as he approached the house. He stopped and stared into the blackness. The movement evidently hadn’t been enough to trigger the motion lights.

      But something was in those bushes. He opened his truck door. A man jumped from behind the bushes and started running toward the back of the house. Dakota leaped from the truck and took off after him. With the first pounding of his feet on the pavement, pain shot through him like small explosions. He struggled for breath.

      He got to the back of the house just in time to see the man jump from a branch, clearing the tall privacy fence and landing with a thud on the other side. By the time Dakota shinnied up the tree, the man had disappeared.

      He dropped back to the ground, his breath knifing through his lungs. Damn. Had he not been thrown with such force tonight, he could have caught the man and taken him down. But if he hadn’t wound up in the hospital, he wouldn’t have run into Viviana. The gunman might have forced her into the car and abducted her. If this was the man who’d stolen her car, she was clearly not a random target.

      He trudged back to the truck, retrieved the computer and took the