Dancing in the Moonlight - Harlequin.com

RAEANNE THAYNE
13
position must be agony for her, he thought, and had to
keep his hands curled into fists at his side to keep from
hauling her up and giving her a good shake before
pulling her into his arms.
She must be as tired as he was. More, probably. The
woman had spent the past five months at Walter Reed
Army Hospital. From what he knew secondhand from
her mother, Viviana—his mother’s best friend—she’d
had numerous painful surgeries and had endured
months of physical therapy and rehabilitation
He seriously doubted she was strong enough—or
stable enough on her prosthesis—to be driving at all,
forget about rolling around in the mud changing a tire.
Yet she would rather endure what must be incredible
pain than accept help from one of the hated Daltons.
With a weary sigh, he ended the matter by reaching
out and yanking the tire iron out of her hand. “I see the
years haven’t made you any less stubborn,” he muttered.
“Or you less of an arrogant jackass,” she retorted
through clenched teeth as she straightened.
“Yeah, we jackasses love driving around at 2:00 a.m.
looking for people with car trouble so we can stop and
harass them. Wait in my car where you can be warm and
dry.”
She was still holding the flashlight, and she looked
like she desperately wanted to bean him with it but she
restrained herself. So the Army had taught her a little
self-discipline, he thought with amusement, then
watched her carefully as she leaned against the trunk of
a nearby tree, aiming the beam in his direction.
He was a doctor with plenty of experience in observ-