slow, thick accent curled into his blood, making him smile once more. In comparison, his accent was gone, educated out of him by the swanky Northeastern prep schools where his parents had sent him, and which he’d hated. She’d been right in the OR, he thought, watching her. Her Texas and his were two different places. She was a farm girl, born and bred, and even now, she talked like one. Still toying with the wine in his glass, watching the red liquid splash the sides, he drawled, “Sometimes a full moon makes all the difference in the world to a woman. Is it that way with you, Katie?”
“Only because I’m afraid of what you’ll turn into.”
He chuckled. “Hard to tell. A werewolf or vampire.”
“Oh, no,” she said darkly. “Definitely something worse.”
“Definitely.” Further relaxing against the counter, he wished he shared this kind of easy repartee with his crowd, instead of long, drawn-out evenings at fund-raisers, talking about stock portfolios. Breathing in the wine, he then savored the taste and immediately wished he was tasting something warmer, headier…Katie. “I’ll miss you,” he found himself saying, his voice catching throatily, becoming unexpectedly hoarse. “You’re the best nurse we’ve got. And when you come back, Cecil Nelson’s going to get hold of you.”
As she tossed her head, her magical curls caught the light again. She laughed off the compliment. “No pun?”
Ford’s eyes lingered, roving over her hair, and he took another drink of the liquor to soothe the dryness of his throat. “Pun?”
“Nelson. Getting hold of. Nelson’s a wrestling hold.”
Leave it to Katie to get the best of him in conversation. “No pun.” And he was getting impatient with the fun and games. “When are you going to start calling me Ford, Katie?”
She grinned. “Never.”
“Damn, you can be irritating,” he countered with another playful smile. “C’mon, quit doing the dishes. I told you earlier, I’ve got a maid coming tomorrow. Have a glass of wine with me. I invited you over for your going-away party, not to clean.”
Giving in, Katie dusted her hands with a dishcloth, and when her eyes found his again, she sobered. “The party was nice. Thanks…Ford.”
He liked hearing her say his first name. He liked feeling those hot, searing emerald eyes on him, too. They were so sharp, so heartbreakingly green, and from working with Katie, he knew they never missed a detail. Usually, he didn’t, either. How had he overlooked the soft, female intent that she was trying so hard to hide?
“I read the recommendation letter you sent to Houston,” she added. “Thanks for that, too, Ford.”
He’d said she was the best nurse he’d ever worked with. “It’s the truth.” She was wonderful. Everybody loved her. “So many people wanted to give you a send-off that only my place was big enough for the party.”
She glanced around. “It is big.”
He couldn’t stop the low, suggestive and very ungentlemanly chuckle. “Size put you off?”
She sent him a droll glance. “Now, why would the size of a house put me off?”
Laughing, he shrugged. “I’ve got mixed feelings about the place myself. It was a family house, belonged to my grandfather.”
The previous innuendo had brushed color across her cheeks. “The one who started the Carrington Foundation?”
The one relative that Ford felt had truly loved him. “Yeah.”
Absently threading fingers through her hair, making him long to touch the springy, coiled strands, she shot another appraising look around the stainless steel kitchen. “Too big for one person,” she said decisively.
“I have a lot of servants,” he said defensively, though it wasn’t really true.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you get scared at night?”
His eyes locked on hers again. “Offering your company?”
“I never need company,” she returned easily. “Too much Irish in my blood. I don’t scare.”
No, she didn’t. He’d never met a nurse who was able to take so much pressure. She always hung in with him, even when it seemed too late to save a patient. Other nurses might tell him to give up, but not Katie…never Katie.
Another awkward silence fell, and the clink of glass sounded overly loud as he lifted the bottle and poured her some wine. “You’ve been drinking sodas all night, and I want you to try this. It’s from a California vineyard owned by a friend of mine.” She looked impressed, and while he wanted to impress her, he didn’t like the distance it created or how put off she seemed by his money.
“Maybe too rich for my blood,” she joked, still nervously running fingers through her curls. “Sure you don’t have any Ripple? Night Train?”
“I’m getting no appreciation here. Most women think money’s my best quality, Katie.”
She surveyed him a long moment, a brief sadness touching her eyes as if she were sorry for that, then another quick smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Do I look like most women?”
He shook his head, his gaze slowly drifting from hair that was like curly red ribbons to her milky, angular freckled face. “No. You’re one of a kind.”
Chuckling softly, she nodded toward the wine. “Okay, Dr. Carrington. You talked me into it.”
“What?” he volleyed dryly. “Have you decided to stay and love me for something other than my money?”
She grinned. “Don’t push your luck.”
Her decision to stay awhile did crazy things to his pulse, and with blood dancing through his limbs, he said, “Care to take another walk down to the stables while you sip your wine?”
“No, but I enjoyed going earlier.”
She leaned beside him at the counter, he felt as if bands of steel were tightening around his chest. He could smell soap and skin, and beneath that, something that was pure Katie. He watched as she gazed through the picture window. Earlier, he’d let two mares and a gelding out of their stalls so she could watch them run, and now the gelding bucked, playing under the moonlight. Watching the horses, she seemed to be in rapture.
“That was the nicest walk I’ve had for a while, Katie.”
“Hard to mess up a moonlight stroll,” she said, glancing from the horses and sending him a sweet sideways smile. “Mostly we gossiped.”
Maitland Maternity’s latest scandals had made for plenty of talk. The place hadn’t been sane since the day the twenty-fifth anniversary bash was to be announced. Just before the Maitlands met the press, an unidentified baby boy, now called Cody, was found outside the hospital.
“I love gossip,” Ford confessed, sipping, then lightly licking wine from his lips.
“Me, too,” she said, the faint color on her face spreading downward to the smooth, unmarred skin of her neck, where he could tell her pulse was vying with his for beating too fast. Her breath suddenly caught, and the faint, involuntary sound made Ford’s groin tighten, then flex.
“I love your horses,” she murmured.
Love. Hearing the word on her lips, he flicked his gaze down the pale column of her neck again, remembering how she’d gently rubbed noses and scratched between ears until she’d found the special spot where each horse liked to be touched. There was something so genuine about Katie, so caring and unpretentious that she’d stolen his breath. He edged closer. “I can tell you like them.”
“They’re beautiful, Ford.”
When she glanced up, he could swear the clear emerald slits of her eyes held invitation. At least, Ford hoped