Lord, is this what you want for me? To keep trying?

The McCrays had offered her so many kindnesses. Allowing her to live in the cabin and operate her clinic on their ranch, and Gil furnishing her clinic supplies.

All gifts from God.

Gil was like two men - the stubborn, hardheaded guy and the thoughtful, caring man she couldn't erase from her mind. She considered his retirement party.

You ought to go with him. What harm could it do?

What harm could it do? Going to California with him might endanger her heart. She'd already been tempted beyond her restraint - felt her resolve weaken every time he touched her. When it came to Gil, her mind went blank whenever her heart fluttered - just like Clara warned.

I will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, I will also provide a way out. But when you are tempted, I will also provide a way out.

Right . . . and her way out was not to go to California. She couldn't traipse off from the clinic for an entire weekend, anyway. Dusty needed her. His rehabilitation was moving forward, and she resolved to keep it that way.

Now all she had to do was inform Gil of her decision.

GIL ROUNDED THE CORNER OF THE BARN AND CAUGHT MATTIE resting her head on Dusty's neck. He stopped, not wanting to intrude on what looked like an intimate moment and watched as she smoothed her hand over the chestnut's back. His heart clutched at the soothing words she spoke to his horse. This was the doc he knew, the woman who put her heart into everything she did.

Since their outing to the Chappell Ranch, she hadn't talked to him unless answering a direct question. It made no sense. Could his buying tactics have really been the cause of her change in attitude? He'd walked away from the Chappell's with one fine mare and a three-year-old filly on the condition that they wouldn't sell the Six colt without first contacting him. Not the outcome he desired, but not altogether disagreeable.

Although Mattie had hinted at jealousy, he couldn't believe a woman as pretty as she was would fret over a girl half his age. Especially one that bore an uncanny resemblance to Mattie's sister Jenna.

The thought of the dark-haired girl reminded Gil of the complications he would face if a romantic relationship with Mattie developed. Was she worth the risk? Would she understand his past?

He cleared his throat, and Mattie lifted her head from the gelding's neck. She turned and for a brief second her anxiety went unmasked. Then she quickly forced a smile, but her eyes lacked their usual luster.

"I thought I'd find you here." At his words, Mattie's beagle came rushing toward him, its pointed tail whipping back and forth. He bent down to rub the pup, and it rolled over onto its side. "Have you decided about this weekend?"

Mattie kicked at the ground with her boot and nodded. "I can't go with you."

His jaw stiffened. Even though he'd anticipated that answer, he wasn't prepared for the ache it caused in his chest. "Can't or won't?"

She turned to Dusty. "Why don't you ask your dad to go? Maybe you could work out some of your problems."

Gil scoffed at this idea. "You know he'd never agree. He hates football, and he hates even more that I played."

Mattie shrugged. "Couldn't hurt to try."

"Your mind's made up, then?" Gil stopped scratching the pup's stomach and stood. He wanted to run from this humiliation, turn, leave, and never come back. He'd been smart to avoid women all these years. Women were nothing but trouble. "Does this mean you don't want anything to do with me?"

Again, she shrugged. Gil studied the slope of her back, the gentle curve of her waist. How could she give up so easily? A part of him wanted to yank her long braid like a schoolboy, but that thought led to a stronger inclination to loosen her woven hair with his fingers and kiss her into submission.

"I thought we had a good thing started. That we were growing closer."

"We hardly know each other," she said without meeting his eyes.

"I know you, Mattie. I can see through you from where I stand."

She straightened, but still refused to look at him.

"You may not want to acknowledge that there's something between us, Mattie, but I know better. I've heard it in your voice when you've called my name, and I've felt it in your touch." He turned on his heel, tired of the trouble, then glanced back one last time.

"I can't force you to join me, so I'll go to my retirement party - alone. When I return, though, you'd better be ready to finish this conversation."

LATE FRIDAY AFTERNOON, MATTIE ENTERED CLARA'S CAFe AND leaned on the counter.

"What brings you to town?" Clara carried a pot of coffee and poured Mattie a cup.

"I was out on a call and figured I'd grab a bite to eat before going home." Mattie studied the menu, though she'd memorized it by heart.

"Is everything okay? You look like you lost your best friend. Don't tell me - you didn't lose another patient, did you?"

Mattie shook her head. "Work is fine." She stared at the list of food options until the words started to blur.

"Hey, what's going on?" Clara snatched the menu from the counter and held it in her hand. "If it's not business, it must be a man. How is Gil?"

Mattie peeked up at Clara, amazed at her friend's ability to read her mind. "I wouldn't know. He left this morning for California."

"What about his dad's ranch? Wasn't he in the middle of fence work?"

"His team's throwing him a retirement party. But I don't care whether he returns. It'd probably be better if he didn't."

"I thought you two were getting along? Didn't you go look at horses with him a couple weeks ago?"

Mattie's eyes started to sting as they'd done all day whenever she let her mind drift to her relationship with Gil. She rested her forehead on the counter and brushed at the tears before Clara had a chance to see. "He asked me to go to California with him."

She raised her head. "Shoot, he asked me to work for him there."

Clara grabbed her dishrag and wiped circles on the counter. "What did you tell him?"

"No, on both counts."

The circles stopped. "You don't seem too happy with your decision."

Mattie's discomfort grew. "He wanted to show me the property he intends to buy - tempt me to work for him."

"Why is that so horrible? Go and see what it's like. You might love it."

"That's exactly why I can't go." Mattie took the cloth from Clara's hand and wiped a grease spot she'd missed. "Do you know how long I've dreamed of owning land in Charris County? - Of reclaiming what my father lost? The Flint Hills are my heritage. I thought I could convince Gil that California was a mistake - that he belonged here. Instead, I find myself being drawn deeper and deeper into his world."

"You're falling for the guy."

Mattie's gaze locked on Clara's. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to. I know the symptoms. When you're with him, your dreams seem less important."

"That's exactly why I didn't go with him."

Clara laid her hand on Mattie's. "Did you stop to consider how much that might have hurt him? Think about it. He has no one to share this moment with."

Mattie's resolve weakened.

"The Lord tells us he won't put more on us than we can bear," Clara said - as though Mattie needed to be reminded.

"It's too late. Even if I did change my mind, his retirement party is tomorrow night. I have no plane ticket and nothing to wear."

Clara smiled and Mattie cringed. She'd seen that look before.

Her friend took three steps behind the counter and returned with a thick, metropolitan phonebook. "The number for the airport ought to be in there." She handed it to Mattie. "And hanging in my closet happens to be a fabulous dress that's never been worn. I bought it on sale last year, hoping to lose enough weight to fit into it. That didn't happen, but I bet it'd fit you like a glove."

THIRTY-FOUR.

GIL PAID THE VALET, THEN GAZED UP AT THE MARK HOPKINS HOTEL on Nob Hill. The team had rented the Top of the Mark for this party, a swanky lounge on the nineteenth floor with a near 360-degree view of the San Francisco skyline.

Too bad he wasn't in a mood to celebrate.

He checked his tie and ascended the steps. His black suit confined his shoulders, and his shirt collar threatened to strangle him. As he stepped through the revolving doors, Charlie met him in the hotel lobby.

"Hey, guy." His friend affectionately cuffed him on the neck. "I hardly recognized you in those duds."

"Yeah, you either. I bet your wife likes the shiny shoes." Gil pointed to the designer lace-ups and relaxed a bit.

"You here alone?"

"Is there a better way to be?" He didn't need Mattie's company to enjoy the night. This was his party, held in his honor. No way was he going to let a woman spoil the moment. He'd have fun if it killed him.

"Don't let Linda hear that. She'll be all over you with a list of women a mile long." Charlie laughed mischievously. "There are some real lookers upstairs, but I doubt they'd be on Linda's list - if you know what I mean."

Gil tapped the button to the elevator. "I'll keep that in mind."

They reached the top in seconds. Gil stepped out into a swarm of mingling guests clothed in more black suits and sequined gowns. Makeup adorned the women's faces, their lips bold and shiny, hair sleek and long or arranged on top of their heads with curls streaming down. He noticed one lady with long red spirals, and his heart thumped against his chest at the reminder of the doc.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our guest of honor has arrived," Johnson said and handed him a glass of champaign. At this, several of his teammates whistled from the bar and the guests applauded. From that moment on, Gil couldn't take a step without a lady clinging to his arm or someone trying to monopolize his time with conversation. Despite his determination to enjoy the party, his resolve started to crumble under the onslaught.

Right on cue, Charlie latched onto his elbow and pulled him through the crowd.

"I don't know how much of this I'll be able to take." Gil deposited his drink on an empty tray as he passed by. "I might have to duck out early."

Charlie glanced back with his ever-present grin firmly in place. "The night's young. It'll get better." He led Gil to a table where several of the boys and their wives and girlfriends sat. Charlie's wife gave a slight wave and indicated for Gil to sit beside her.

"You look very debonair this evening," Linda teased.

Gil squeezed her hand. "You clean up pretty swell yourself." He noted her shimmering blue dress and diamond solitaire necklace. "Charlie buy that for you?"

She clutched the pendant and smiled. "He did, and I have you to thank that I have a chance to dress up and show it off."

Charlie reached across the table for a bottle of sparkling cider and poured some in their glasses. "Yeah, I don't wear this penguin suit for just anybody," he said. "Not even my darling wife."

"Can't tell me that. I know better." Gil focused on the blinking lights above the bar in the center of the room, trying to ward off the tightness in his throat. Few couples drew his admiration like Charlie and Linda. Now he understood how fortunate they were to share such an intense love within their marriage.

Not everyone had that opportunity.

As these thoughts filtered through his head, a large television screen flashed to life, commemorating Gil's time on the football field. He watched as a Dallas linebacker plowed him to the ground early in his career.

"Ouch." Gil cringed from embarrassment as those in the room tittered with amusement. One of the linebackers razzed him from the bar. "That's the way to take one for the team, hey Gil?"

Gil raised his drink to his teammate and grinned.

His coach then stood in the center of the room and tapped his champaign glass. "If I can have everyone's attention, I'd like to propose a toast."

The room came to hush.

"I've had the privilege of having Gil McCray on my team for a good long while. We all know that in this sport, superstars come and go, but Gil's managed to stretch out his career for fifteen years - no easy accomplishment in this day of instant fame and instant replay." He chuckled, as did many in the crowd.

"Our team didn't make it to the Super Bowl this year," he went on. "but as many of you know, it's not how many games you win, it's how you play the game - and even more important, how you live your life when the game's over. We're all going to miss you, Gil - me probably the most. So, here's to one of the finest quarterbacks I've ever coached." He lifted his glass to Gil in a toast.

"May your retirement be rewarding and your future a blessing to you and to those you love. And may you never forget how quickly time passes." Coach's eyes narrowed in on him, and Gil understood well the implied message.

"Here, here," the people around him chanted and sipped their drinks.

Gil stood from the table and strode over to his old friend. He squeezed Coach's shoulder with affection. "Thanks for the kind words. I only hope the years will be as good to me as they've been to you," Gil said. Then from the corner of his eyes, he saw her.

Easing through the crowd in a black, satin lace dress that clung to her curves and hung slightly off her shoulders was the doc - his his Doc. Doc.

For a second he doubted his vision, but as she neared, there was no mistaking her identity. Mattie's long, red curls draped loosely about her face and drew his attention to the string of pearls that graced her neck.

He'd never seen her look so beautiful.

"Will you excuse me please," he told his coach, unable to take his eyes off Mattie. He reached her in seconds.

"You came." He caught her hands and stared into her eyes, the sweet scent of roses captivating him. "What changed your mind?"

Mattie offered a sheepish grin. "Clara helped me see the error of my ways."

Gil wondered at her meaning. "But . . . when . . . how did you get here?"

Charlie came up beside them and introduced himself. "It's nice to finally meet you, Dr. Evans. Was the limo ride satisfactory?"