Her Texas Rescue Doctor (14 page)

Alex seemed impatient. “We can't bring police statements into this. Everything with Mrs. Burns is confidential. We should stick to our initial contact. It's simple and it's true. I met Sophia when she came into the emergency room with a suspected fracture.”

“And what was your first impression?”

“An X-ray would be necessary.”

Grace stared at him for a second.

He hadn't made a joke, so she tried not to laugh, but a little snort of amusement bubbled out of her, anyway. “You can't be such a doctor with the press, okay? When someone asks you what your first impression of Sophia was—” She couldn't finish her sentence because she was trying too hard not to laugh. “I'm sorry. I just—it's just—that is the least romantic answer a man has ever given.”

This time, his raised brow was accompanied by a little duck of his chin. The calm and confident Dr. Gregory looked a little sheepish. And adorable.

Was it okay to think of a brother as adorable?

Grace got her giggles under control. “We've got a lot of work to do. Don't worry, I won't let you down.”

“I'm sure you won't let anyone down. I think you're almost too good at your job. Don't let anyone treat you like you're easy to replace.”

The last of Grace's laughter died. Easy to replace? Had Martina said that? Sophia?

Alex put his glasses back on. “I'm so confident that you'll get your job done that I think we can stop here and move on to my project.”

When he stood and held out his hand for hers, she was curious enough to forget that touching him was off-limits. She placed her hand in his, and he pulled her to her feet.

“You never told me what your project was,” she said.

“Come for a ride with me and find out.”

Chapter Fourteen

A
lex thought he was a good doctor. He was a strong cyclist. He was proud of the way he designed landscapes with geometric precision. But there was one thing he couldn't seem to be able to do: he could not get Grace Jackson to talk about herself.

Every question which he hoped would reveal a little bit about the woman sharing the bench seat of his pickup truck turned into a dissertation on her sister.

Have you ever been to Texas before?

The first word of her answer had been her sister's name.
Sophia's last movie was filmed just outside of Austin. We were here for almost three weeks of shooting last September. The flood damage was still really noticeable. I knew she'd agree to come this week for Texas Rescue because the destruction upset her at the time. I knew she'd like to help.

His concern for Grace grew with every mile.

Last night, when all he'd been able to think about was this beautiful woman in his bed, he'd wanted to believe that he'd jumped to the wrong conclusions about her relationship with her sister. He'd heard a few manipulative comments, seen a few anxious hand gestures, but really, nothing extraordinary. Having just handled the Burns couple, he might have too easily assumed Sophia and Grace were in a dysfunctional relationship, as well.

Midnight was a convenient time to decide that he'd been wrong. If Grace wasn't really in trouble, then he could focus on her as a potential date—or to be brutally honest with himself, as a lover—rather than as someone who needed saving.

That had changed over pancakes. Listening to this morning's meeting with the publicist had been as sobering as a cold shower. Grace was clearly in a dysfunctional relationship with her sister. Still, he had been impressed with how she'd handled herself. She'd been outnumbered by the publicist and her sister. She didn't agree with their decisions and she'd seemed embarrassed by some of the discussion, but she'd handled herself with poise.

He would be able to help her this week. Grace wouldn't be one of those women who refused assistance. She wouldn't be like his mother, sticking with a family member who made her miserable for far too long. Grace was surely more like Mrs. Burns, ready to get out of a bad situation and move on with her life.

But that had been twenty-five miles ago. Twenty-five long miles during which only one subject had been covered: Sophia the Great.

“What did you study in college?” he asked, a direct question to Grace, about Grace.

“I didn't go to college. I was lucky to be able to work for Sophia right after high school. She had a scholarship to study theater at UCLA. She'd finished two years there when our parents died. She dropped out and came home just so I could finish high school in our hometown. She did a lot of local modeling and some local TV commercials. After that, we headed back to LA, but by then she felt the window of opportunity for her to get her degree had passed. Actresses need to work while they're young.”

Incredible. Every single answer led back to Sophia.

He shouldn't be so surprised. Victims of domestic abuse could lose their own sense of self. He knew that, yet he'd truly thought Grace was more independent than this. She'd been assertive enough to come and find him in the ER's kitchen. She'd argued with hotel managers and publicists and him. Hell, she'd even had a face-to-face moment with an angry Mr. Burns. But now, she was all about Sophia, every second, every word. It was unhealthy.

He could see a traffic light ahead. It was time to make a judgment call. His plan had been to take her to his latest landscaping project, an outdoor space for a nursing home located in an Austin suburb. He'd thought she could decompress in a Zen-like contemplation of nature while he took some measurements and did some maintenance. After this nonstop Sophia-centric conversation, though, he wasn't sure that was a good idea. What would Grace think about, if he arranged time for her to have no other obligations? Sophia. That was the only thing on her mind.

Grace checked her cell phone. “She must not be awake yet. She hasn't texted me like I asked her to. Usually, she's really good about keeping in touch with people she cares about. She's not an inaccessible celebrity once you are part of her inner circle.”

Weird. Just a weird thing to say. Was she trying to reassure herself that she was part of her own sister's inner circle?

Alex fell silent. Every attempt at conversation had been futile, anyway.

The silence didn't last long. “Where did you go to college?” Grace asked. It was the first question she'd initiated during the entire drive.

“Rice University for undergrad. Baylor for med school.”

He glanced over.

She was writing in her notebook. “When I type this up for Sophia, I could type up a list of identical facts for you. Baylor versus UCLA, that kind of thing. Sophia's really good at memorizing things that way, but I don't—”

“Grace.” The traffic light up ahead turned yellow, then red. He stopped the truck gently when he wanted to slam on the brakes. “I know she has a good memory. You told me that. Three times.”

“Oh.” She scratched something out. “I won't type that in your notes, then.”

His notes?

“Were all these Sophia stories supposed to be trivia I was memorizing about her?”

“Of course.”

Jeez. Twenty-five miles of this. The conversation was still weird, but at least it made a little sense, in a Hollywood kind of way. If Grace had been writing things down, he would have realized what was going on sooner. He supposed she didn't take notes when she was the one doing the talking.

Her pencil was poised over her page now. “Our project this morning was to prepare you for the media scrutiny. Don't you feel like you know Sophia better now?”

“I've had more than enough of Sophia Jackson.”

Grace's answering silence made him feel like a jerk. She was emotionally fragile. He should handle her with care.

Grace yanked open the tote bag at her feet and dropped her notebook in it. It wasn't a very fragile move. “You're the one who kept asking me questions about her.”

The light turned green. Alex turned in the opposite direction of the nursing home.

“I asked you about you,” he said. “Where did
you
go to school? Where did
you
grow up?”

“I'm well aware that what people want to know is
where did the two of you grow up?
Why would anyone want to know those things about me?”

He pulled off the road and parked next to a building that was half gas station, half barbecue joint. It was early for lunch, but if they did the landscaping first, lunch would be late. He didn't want to risk Grace getting hypoglycemic again. She was in a delicate state already.

Grace kept staring straight ahead, even after he killed the engine. She didn't look delicate; she looked angry. He'd been afraid that she was obsessed with her sister, but now he suspected she was obsessed with her job. That seemed marginally more normal, but it still indicated that she lacked balance in her life.

He strove for balance in his. He made sure his emotions were in check before he spoke. “I didn't realize we were cramming for an exam about your sister's life. The last half hour would have made more sense, then.”

She sighed in defeat. “It's okay. I'll put everything I told you in writing.”

“Don't. You have enough work to do. I may not have memorized a new scene after having the screenwriter read it out loud to me once, just once, while I was having my hair and makeup done on site in a remote part of Tunisia, before running to a hilltop and nailing the scene in one take, getting every word right and catching the light as the sun rose, thus saving the cast and crew and production company from having to strike the set and repeat the entire process the next day at great cost, but I do have a decent memory.”

She stared at him, mouth open in surprise. He gently used one finger under her chin to close it, smiling to soften his sarcasm. “Don't be so shocked. Doctors have to memorize a lot of stuff, too. I'm officially declaring a lunch break. No notebooks, no phones. Just brisket.”

Grace frowned down at the phone in her hand. “I think we should have a working lunch. We don't have a lot of time.”

“We have a week until this ball. Sophia is living in my house. I'm going to get to know her whether I want to or not.”

Grace looked at him then, her special blend of hope and worry in her eyes. “But you do want to get to know her, don't you?”

That made him pause. “This is supposed to be about photos. What's really going on here?”

“You're supposed to be her boyfriend. You're supposed to be the reason she's no longer interested in Deezee. We're establishing a better life for her.”

“You can't establish a better life for someone. They have to choose it. As for the boyfriend thing, the term was
fake
boyfriend, if my memory serves—which I'm certain it does. However, since I'm not an actor, I'm not going to try to fake that I like her. It's fortunate that I don't need to fake anything.”

“Oh, good.”

She said it with such relief, it silenced him. Did she want him to be her sister's real boyfriend?

“You and Sophia are perfect for one another.”

When a goat eats a wolf.

Grace had to feel the chemistry toward him that he felt toward her. He hadn't imagined those fingertips trailing along his waist last night. Her arousal had been revealed by her clinging white pajamas and her quickened breaths. How could she want him to want someone else instead?

“Let me be clear. I mean that I don't need to fake anything in order to pull off a photo op at this ball. I'm not going to fake that I have more of a relationship with Sophia than I do. I'm not going to worry about who is a reporter and who isn't, because I'm only going to tell the truth. I met her when she came into the emergency room with a suspected fracture. I offered her a place to stay because she couldn't make her flight. Because I'm bringing her to the ball as my date, good manners and common courtesy require me to do my best to make sure she has a pleasant evening. We'll sit together for dinner, we'll dance if her ankle allows, we'll talk. If the public wants to jump to conclusions, that's not in my control.”

“Martina will control it. She'll make sure everyone jumps to conclusions. She'll imply you knew each other before the ER visit. So will Sophia.” Grace turned those beautiful brown-gold eyes away from him. “So will I.”

“Is that what you want?” He touched her again, his fingertips light against her jaw as he turned her face toward him.

She kept her eyes downcast. “It's my job.”

“I don't have to do any of this,” he said. “Neither do you.”

He had a long moment to study the feathering of her lashes, dark against her skin, until she opened her eyes and looked at him, startlingly direct. “You said you would. You're supposed to be a man of your word.” She jerked her chin free.

Rejection. Abandonment. He let go of her instantly. If she didn't want him, then he didn't want her, either.

A part of him knew that wasn't true. The angry self-defense was an old reflex, born from the need to protect himself from all the miseries of a violent parent.
I don't care about you, either, Papa.

He'd spent his adult life mastering that negative emotion. He didn't have to react defensively to Grace's rejection, but control required consciousness. Introspection. Focus.

They were on their way to build a garden to give other people a place to focus their thoughts, but right now, with the feel of Grace's skin still fresh on his fingertips, he was having a hard time keeping his own wants and needs straight. Rejection had a way of screwing with a man's mind.

He got out of the truck and shoved the key in the front pocket of his jeans. The feel of the packed dirt under his work boots and the smell of the barbecue's wood smoke centered him. He walked around the front of the truck and opened Grace's door with equanimity.

Because he was calm, he could see that she was not. She'd put her tote bag in her lap, and her knuckles were white as she clenched the handles in her fists. He noticed the tension in the way she held her neck and remembered his desire yesterday to smooth his hands over her shoulders to release all that tightness. That desire was stronger, now that he knew her better. The truth was, he wanted Grace, even if she did not want him.

“I'm sorry,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. “I shouldn't have said that about keeping your word. You've done so much for us, and I keep asking you to do more.”

It didn't matter what her job was or who she was related to. It didn't even matter that he knew in advance she'd disappear from his life. Something inside him responded to everything about her. He wanted to be her lover, but she needed a friend—and he wanted to be what she needed.

“I offered you a place to stay. I offered to take your sister to the ball. You'd don't need to say ‘I'm sorry' just because you said yes.”

He offered her his hand. She pushed the tote bag onto the seat and took his hand, then jumped gracefully from the high cab to the ground. Neither of them let go.

Be her friend. She needs a friend.

Standing a little too close to her, their hands linked by their thighs, he spoke quietly. “Everything I offered was to help you, Grace Jackson. I'm giving you my word that I'm on your side. You said this morning you thought Sophia should tell the truth. You thought Sophia should go to the ball alone. If you still want to go that route, I'll back you up.”

“Thank you.” She sounded breathless. She sounded like she had at midnight.

He wanted to kiss her. He did not.

“But she's not just my sister, she's my boss. She usually has good instincts. I think I should do my job.”