Roping the Wind Read Free Page A

the sink. ‘And leave a list of groceries out for the cleaning service. I’ll make sure they pick up what you need.’
    The phone rang again. This time Grayson turned it off and headed for the door.
    Jay struggled to his feet and limped after him. ‘Hey, Grayson, I do appreciate what you’ve done for me.’
    His brother grinned, transforming his normally stern face. ‘See? That wasn’t so hard to spit out, was it?’
    Jay reluctantly smiled back. ‘I’ll call you.’
    ‘You won’t, but I’ll call you.’ He punched Jay’s arm. ‘Take care of yourself, little brother.’
    Jay waited until he heard the hum of the elevator taking his brother down to street level before he went back into the apartment. He stared at the soundless images of the Flagstaff rodeo on the big screen. Of course, he’d automatically selected the channel that showed all the PBR and NRCA events.
    He gripped the back of the couch until his fingers hurt. He was a thirty-year-old has-been, a washed-up cowboy with nothing to show for twelve years of effort except a few gold belt buckles and a closet full of sponsored clothing he no longer had the right to wear.
    After finishing his beer he stared at the refrigerator. He had two choices: drink the rest of the beers or do his physical therapy exercises. He stumbled over to the fridge and flung open the door. Eight bottles sat in lonely splendor on the shelf. Enough to get him wasted.
    He grabbed the whole lot and pictured Dr Kinsale sneering at his lack of will power. Hell, she’d expect him to drink the beer so why should he disappoint her?
    As he opened the first bottle he gave the good doctor a salute. No doubt she was sitting in some fancy restaurant with a rich guy fawning over her. No beer for her. Only the finest of champagne. He pictured her small mouth sipping daintily at the bubbles. Pictured her lips around his cock . . .
    He choked on his beer and half of it dribbled down the front of his T-shirt. Where the hell had that image come from? He glared at the bottle. Perhaps Grayson had a point about not mixing alcohol with painkillers. If Dr Doom ever got her mouth around his most prized possession, she’d probably bite it off.
    He rubbed a hand over the front of his boxers where his cock had grown hard. He frowned down at his lap. ‘Don’t you have any standards? I said she’d probably castrate you.’
    With a sigh, he put the rest of the beer back and headed for the couch. Naturally, Grayson had all the TV channels you could buy. He’d finish his beer, watch some porn and persuade his cock to forget about Dr Helen ever getting within a mile of him.

Chapter Two
    Helen Kinsale took a deep breath and picked up the phone. ‘Hi, Lisa, this is Dr Kinsale. Could you put me through to Mr Dempsey, please?’
    Fingernails drumming, she endured the brief spurt of syrupy automated music until Simon Dempsey came on the line. Even though he couldn’t see her, she still found herself manufacturing a smile.
    ‘Simon? It’s Helen. Something’s come up at work. I’m not going to be able to get away this weekend after all.’
    She held the phone away as the whining and recriminations began. Work was such a convenient excuse with so many variables. Her ex-husband had taught her that. He’d used the tired old excuse for years while he carried on his petty affairs with various hospital personnel.
    She examined her French manicure as Simon continued to talk. Not that she was planning on having an affair. She was using the hackneyed excuse to get out of an unpromising relationship, not indulge in a new one. Simon Dempsey had been a mistake from the first. He was too opinionated, too old and did nothing for her sexually.
    She waited for him to draw a breath and cut in. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Simon. And yes, I agree, women who put their careers ahead of their personal relationships are such bitches, aren’t they?’
    She scratched over his phone number with her pen until it disappeared