Matt Caldwell: Texas Tycoon

Lou moved back around her desk and sat down, indicating that Leslie should sit in the chair in front of the desk after she got off the examining table.

“You don’t want to talk about it,” Lou said gently. “I won’t press you. You do know that the bones weren’t properly set at the time, don’t you? The improper alignment is unfortunate, because that limp isn’t going to go away. I really should send you to an orthopedic surgeon.”

“You can send me,” Leslie replied, “but I won’t go.”

Lou rested her folded hands on her desk over the calendar blotter with its scribbled surface. “You don’t know me well enough to confide in me. You’ll learn, after you’ve been in Jacobsville a while, that I can be trusted. I don’t talk about my patients to anyone, not even my husband. Matt won’t hear anything from me.”

Leslie remained silent. It was impossible to go over it again with a stranger. It had been hard enough to elaborate on her past to the therapist, who’d been shocked, to put it mildly.

The older woman sighed. “All right, I won’t pressure you. But if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’ll be here.”

Leslie looked up. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“You’re not Matt’s favorite person, are you?” Lou asked abruptly.

Leslie laughed without mirth. “No, I’m not. I think he’ll find a way to fire me eventually. He doesn’t like women much.”

“Matt likes everybody as a rule,” Lou said. “And he’s always being pursued by women. They love him. He’s kind to people he likes. He offered to marry Kitty Carson when she quit working for Dr. Drew Morris. She didn’t do it, of course, she was crazy for Drew and vice versa. They’re happily married now.” She hesitated, but Leslie didn’t speak. “He’s a dish—rich, handsome, sexy, and usually the easiest man on earth to get along with.”

“He’s a bulldozer,” Leslie said flatly. “He can’t seem to talk to people unless he’s standing on them.” She folded her arms over her chest and looked uncomfortable.

So that’s it, Lou thought, wondering if the young woman realized what her body language was giving away. Lou knew instantly that someone had caused those breaks in the younger woman’s leg; very probably a man. She had reason to know.

“You don’t like people to touch you,” Lou said.

Leslie shifted in the chair. “No.”

Lou’s perceptive eyes went over the concealing garments Leslie wore, but she didn’t say another word. She stood up, smiling gently. “There’s no damage from the recent fall,” she said gently. “But come back if the pain gets any worse.”

Leslie frowned. “How did you know I was in pain?”

“Matt said you winced every time you got out of your chair.”

Leslie’s heart skipped. “I didn’t realize he noticed.”

“He’s perceptive.”

Lou prescribed an over-the-counter medication to take for the pain and advised her to come back if she didn’t improve. Leslie agreed and went out of the office in an absentminded stupor, wondering what else Matt Caldwell had learned from her just by observation. It was a little unnerving.

When she went back to the office, it wasn’t ten minutes before Matt was standing in the doorway.

“Well?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just a few bruises. And believe me, I have no intention of suing you.”

He didn’t react visibly. “Plenty have.” He was irritated. Lou wouldn’t tell him anything, except that his new employee was as closemouthed as a clam. He knew that already.

“Tell Ed I’ll be out of the office for a couple of days,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

He gave her a last look, turned and walked back out. It wasn’t until Matt was out of sight that Leslie began to relax.

Chapter Three

The nightmares came back that night. Leslie had even expected them, because of the visit to Dr. Lou Coltrain and the hospital’s X-ray department. Having to wear high heeled shoes to work hadn’t done her damaged leg any good, either. Along with the nightmare that left her sweating and panting, her leg was killing her. She went to the bathroom and downed two aspirin, hoping they were going to do the trick. She decided that she was going to have to give up fashion and wear flats again.

Matt noticed, of course, when he returned to the office three days later. His eyes narrowed as he watched her walk across the floor of her small office.

“Lou could give you something to take for the pain,” he said abruptly.

She glanced at him as she pulled a file out of the metal cabinet. “Yes, she could, Mr. Caldwell, but do you really want a comatose secretary in Ed’s office? Painkillers put me to sleep.”

“Pain makes for inefficiency.”

She nodded. “I know that. I have a bottle of aspirin in my purse,” she assured him. “And the pain isn’t so bad that I can’t remember how to spell. It’s just a few bruises. They’ll heal. Dr. Coltrain said so.”

He stared at her through narrowed, cold eyes. “You shouldn’t be limping after a week. I want you to see Lou again…”

“I’ve limped for six years, Mr. Caldwell,” she said serenely. Her eyes kindled. “If you don’t like the limp, perhaps you shouldn’t stand and watch me walk.”

His eyebrows arched. “Can’t the doctors do anything to correct it?”

She glared at him. “I hate doctors!”

The vehemence of her statement took him aback. She meant it, too. Her face flushed, her eyes sparkled with temper. It was such a difference from her usual expression that he found himself captivated. When she was animated, she was pretty.

“They’re not all bad,” he replied finally.

“There’s only so much you can do with a shattered bone,” she said and then bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to tell him that.

The question was in his eyes, on his lips, but it never made it past them. Just as he started to ask, Ed came out of his office and spotted him.

“Matt! Welcome back,” he said, extending a hand. “I just had a call from Bill Payton. He wanted to know if you were coming to the banquet Saturday night. They’ve got a live band scheduled.”

“Sure,” Matt said absently. “Tell him to reserve two tickets for me. Are you going?”

“I thought I would. I’ll bring Leslie along.” He smiled at her. “It’s the annual Jacobsville Cattle-men’s Association banquet. We have speeches, but if you survive them, and the rubber chicken, you get to dance.”

“Her leg isn’t going to let her do much dancing,” Matt said solemnly.

Ed’s eyebrows lifted. “You’d be surprised,” he said. “She loves Latin dances.” He grinned at Leslie. “So does Matt here. You wouldn’t believe what he can do with a mambo or a rhumba, to say nothing of the tango. He dated a dance instructor for several months, and he’s a natural anyway.”

Matt didn’t reply. He was watching the play of expressions on Leslie’s face and wondering about that leg. Maybe Ed knew the truth of it, and he could worm it out of him.

“You can ride in with us,” Matt said absently. “I’ll hire Jack Bailey’s stretch limo and give your secretary a thrill.”

“It’ll give me a thrill, too,” Ed assured him. “Thanks, Matt. I hate trying to find a parking space at the country club when there’s a party.”