shifted until she was curled up on the sofa. A part of her had sort of enjoyed her dinner with Stephen. He didn’t seem intimidated by her. She didn’t get out all that much anymore. Not just because she didn’t date but because all her girlfriends had married and were starting families. They didn’t have time for dinners out and she was usually too busy to break for lunch.
“I’ll make new friends,” she told herself softly. “Friends who are single like me.” She vowed to start searching these mythical folks out the following day, despite the fact that most single females in Lone Star Canyon were either under twenty or over sixty-five.
“We’ll do things together. I won’t be reduced to accepting invitations from a man who spells his name with a ‘ph’ instead of a ‘v,’ like normal people. A man from Boston, or worse, New Jersey.”
That decided, Nora thought about standing up and getting ready for bed. Between the tornado and her unexpected stint of nursing, she’d had a busy day. She was tired, she thought as her eyes drifted closed. But right now she felt too comfortable to move. Instead she would just…
The man’s hands were warm and smooth and strong. Not sissy hands, but powerful and lean, with long fingers that knew exactly where to touch her. Despite being curled up on the sofa, Nora found herself arching toward those questing fingers that explored first her arm, then her shoulder. She trembled at the feel of his heat against her bare skin. She—
Bare skin? Nora opened her eyes and realized she was lying naked on her sofa. And she was no longer alone. Stephen Remington crouched next to her. Instead of his slacks, dress shirt and white coat, he wore jeans and a cable-knit sweater. Far too dressed, she thought hazily.
“Tell me about your past,” he murmured, then kissed the sensitive skin just below her ear.
“Don’t want to,” she managed to say, between a gasp of erotic excitement and a soft cry of pleasure.
His strong hands urged her to shift onto her back. She did so, tossing the pillow away. He kissed her cheek, her chin, but when she tried to press her lips to his, he turned away. Before she could protest, he cupped her breasts. Thumb and forefinger teased her nipples, making her cry out and arch into his caress. She was on fire. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched her, but it had been far too long. Celibacy was the downside of not getting involved, she thought, her mind thick with long-denied passion.
He continued to stroke her curves. He pressed kisses to her belly, then moved lower. She shifted so that he could kiss her most intimate place of all. For a second there was nothing, then the perfect wonder of his tongue tasting her, teasing her, making her tilt her hips toward him and desperately call his name. Her body tensed and spiraled closer and closer to her point of release. She’d never been so ready so fast.
But before she could climax, he stopped. She opened her eyes and stared at him in disbelief. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
She reached to touch his head, his face, his hair. She was on fire and she would die if he didn’t continue, didn’t finish.
“Please,” she breathed, holding him tightly. “Don’t stop. Don’t.”
Nora woke with a start. She was still curled up on the sofa, clutching the pillow to her belly. Confusion filled her, then cleared as she realized it had been nothing more than a dream. A stupid dream that didn’t mean anything.
She sat up and realized that while her mind might have figured out it was just a dream, her body was less aware of what was going on. She was aroused and ready to make love. To Stephen Remington of all people. How dare he get into her mind and mess with her that way? How dare he—
She moaned as she remembered the feel of his mouth against her body, then she shivered. She’d spent a couple of hours with the guy and he’d invaded her sleep? What was going on?
Nora vowed that whatever it was she would figure out the problem, then fix it. She wasn’t interested in having a man in her life. Not now, not ever. They were annoying and difficult and not for her. Not even Dr. Stephen Remington.
Chapter Three
“I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Nora froze at the sound of the too-familiar voice. The voice of the man who had haunted her sleep for the past two nights, invading her time of rest and assaulting her with hot kisses and erotic touches that left her aroused and frustrated when she awoke.
She ignored him by focusing on her client—an elderly lady stretched out on a chair, with her neck propped on the edge of the shampoo bowl in a back room of the Lone Star Retirement Village.
“Don’t distract her,” Mrs. Bailey said in her wavering voice. The white-haired, birdlike woman was nearly ninety. “Nora is busy making me beautiful. It takes longer these days than it used to.”
“I would never dream of getting in the way of a lovely woman and her appointment with beauty,” he said. “I just wanted to say hello to my favorite hairdresser.”
Nora was wrist-deep in shampoo and hair, but she couldn’t help glancing at Stephen as he leaned against the door frame of the small room. He wore a white coat over a dust-colored shirt and brown slacks and there was a knowing look in his dark eyes. As if he suspected she’d spent the past couple of nights dreaming about him.
“Not likely,” she muttered, referring more to him guessing her secret than to her being his favorite hairdresser.
“It’s true,” he protested. “You’re the only hairdresser I know.”
She nearly snorted at the adolescent comment. “Aren’t you the clever one? How very humorous. It’s amazing that I can keep upright, what with the laughter coursing through my body at that one. Gee, Doc, if medicine doesn’t work out, you have a career in stand-up comedy at the ready.”
He didn’t budge. Worse, he didn’t even blink at her tirade. “Does the word overkill mean anything to you, Nora?”
“No. Some things can’t be dead enough.”
She gave him an insincere smile, then flipped on the water. When the fine spray heated to the correct temperature, Nora rinsed off her hands, then carefully removed the shampoo from Mrs. Bailey’s white curls.
“I’d like to talk with you before you leave,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the sound of running water.
She had a strong urge to tell him that she didn’t care what he wanted, but she didn’t want to sound like a petulant child. She shrugged her acceptance of his statement, then felt more than saw him leave the room.
“Why don’t you like Dr. Stephen?” Mrs. Bailey asked as Nora wrapped a towel around her head and helped her into a sitting position. “He’s very nice. Besides, he’s really a dish.” Mrs. Bailey blinked her pale blue eyes and smiled. “I suppose you young people would say he’s hot.”
Nora wrinkled her nose. “I’m not going to say anything at all about the good doctor’s appearance. I’m sure he’s everything he should be. But I’m not interested.”
“Nora, you can’t hide from men forever.”
“Why not?” The plan had been working so far. If not for those darned erotic dreams.
“Because you’re a beautiful young woman who should be married with a family.”
The elderly woman’s words caused a tiny ache to take up residence in Nora’s heart. “I wouldn’t mind the kids,” she said honestly. “In fact I’d like them very much. It’s the husband I object to.”
“Men aren’t so bad.”
“Neither is an allergy to shellfish. That doesn’t mean I want one.”
Mrs. Bailey chuckled. “Nora Darby, you’re a pistol, girl. But mark my words. One day you’re going to meet a man who sweeps