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He wasn’t alone. Craig opened his eyelids, which were so heavy and gritty it was as if he’d been through an outback dust storm, to stare at a strange ceiling. He was used to waking in strange beds, usually with some female company, but this was a single bed with starchy sheets. Then it hit him, full bucking tilt, he was in hospital.

But the perfume…

The scent was light and fresh, a unique honeyed feminine scent that triggered a memory of a past long forgotten. He had to be imagining it.

Craig went to rub his eyes, but his ribs stabbed him with such heat it forced him to groan as every breath sent a sharp pain through his chest as if his lungs were being squeezed. ‘Son of a—’

‘Easy does it, cowboy.’ The female voice was too familiar to ever forget.

His eyes widened at the woman gently touching his arm. ‘ You! What are you doing here?’

‘Hello, honey.’ Isobel Callahan— Izzy —leaned back in the guest chair, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder where it fell like a sheet of shiny dark silk. Her full lips were taut and expressionless, but they were red and still the most kissable lips on any woman he’d ever met. But this ever-sweet Bee Queen was a honey trap that came with a lethal sting.

‘Nope. I am not sharing the same space as you!’ He struggled to get up, fully intending to get out of this bed, and out of this room. Again, that sharp hot pain stabbed him in the ribs, but this time his left leg demanded attention in this sweet game of excruciating tormented pain. ‘What the hell!’

‘Settle down, Craig.’ Izzy gently pushed him back onto the bed.

With gritted teeth, he forced himself to control his breathing, to fight through the searing agony of his leg, as he lay back on the hospital bed. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Apparently I’m still listed as your next of kin for emergencies.’ Izzy calmly closed the lid on her laptop. Hoisting her trouser braces higher on her shoulders, she stood and brushed down her business shirt and slacks, looking like a sexy Wall Street banker.

Her heels clicked across the floor as she headed for the door, giving him a perfect view of her high and tight arse in those tailored trousers. The suspenders criss-crossed over her back, accentuating her straight posture and strong shoulders. Izzy was the only women he knew who wore old-fashioned braces for trousers, and make it look so effortlessly sexy.

But that walk.

She still had that same hip-swinging, get-out-of-my-way walk, on a woman who had no right to walk that way.

‘Do you want me to call the doctor?’

‘No.’ Craig wanted out. He pulled off the bedsheet, sliding the dumb hospital gown off his shoulders to expose the bandages on his body. There were way too many. ‘Izzy?’ His voice betrayed his worry.

‘Do you remember what happened?’ Izzy approached the bed. For once, she seemed concerned. But only for a moment. There was no way he’d get any pity from the ever-clever Bee Queen, Isobel Callahan. No siree. That bull had left the chute a long time ago.

‘I don’t want any lectures from you.’

‘I just asked if you could remember how you were knocked out enough for the hospital to call me.’

Sure, he’d walked into the emergency room plenty of times. You didn’t do rodeo without expecting broken bones and a ton of bruising. But this was the first time he’d been knocked out cold, to wake up to a nightmare.

Craig rubbed his temple, the only place that didn’t seem to ache. But if this kept up, he was due a headache, especially with the brunette in the same room.

‘Have you lost your memory or something?’

‘No. I remember what that bull did.’ Like he remembered the day she’d walked out on him, creating that stinging crush to his soul, the type that no man ever recovered from. ‘And I’m not letting you sue the rodeo or that bull. It was a charity event.’

‘I’m not that kind of lawyer.’ She rolled her eyes as if talking to a moron.

He knew exactly what Isobel Callahan did.

‘You didn’t have to come.’ Sliding the dumb gown back over his shoulders, he tried to sit up.

‘Slowly.’ Isobel Callahan was touching him, and tenderly, too.

It had him worried.

‘You’re lucky that bull didn’t hit any vital organs.’ She adjusted his bed so he could sit up.

‘What’s the damage? Give it to me straight.’

‘You’ve got some seriously extensive muscle and tendon damage to your left calf, which is affecting the ankle, and eight stitches in your chest where the bull gored your ribs. None of your ribs are broken, but a couple are cracked.’ Izzy sighed, shaking her head. She almost looked sympathetic, for a viper. ‘Since when do you ride bulls? You usually stick to broncs.’

‘How do you know?’

She propped one hand on her hip, giving him a single shoulder shrug. But her silent stare was enough to make anyone crumble. Normally aimed at people she’d screw over in some court witness box to get her criminal clients off scot-free, there was no way in hell she’d let him go free, not without explaining himself.

‘I did it for Charlie.’

Her gorgeous face of granite fell. She was no longer the cutthroat lawyer Isobel Callahan, but the Izzy he well remembered. ‘What happened to Charlie?’

‘He passed away. His heart…’ Craig turned away, feeling the intolerable weight of heartache just from looking at her, and from missing the old stockman, Charlie.

Izzy’s heels clicked on the floor as she circled the bed and sank into the chair, bringing her eye level with him. ‘I’m sorry.’

She seemed sorry, too.

No. Not again. He did not want to feel again. And certainly not for her.

Yet the look she gave him wasn’t one of pity, but something else, he was helpless to look away.

Only Izzy did that, effortlessly capturing his attention as he took in the details. Like the way her slender throat shifted as she swallowed, the smooth line of her jaw to her dainty chin, and the softness of her cheeks. He remembered the feel of her warm, soft skin, like he’d once remembered her kisses and her smile.

In the past few years, he’d never seen her smile in her pictures on social media or the news. Not for a very long time. But he’d mastered the skill of faking his own smile so that no one knew his pain.

‘Why are you here, Izzy?’

‘You need someone to look after you.’

He almost choked at her words, only to wince at the pain in his ribs. ‘Bulldust I do.’

‘You need someone to babysit your butt for the next four to six weeks.’

‘Yeah, right. And you’re going to volunteer?’

‘Would you prefer I fetch one of your many admirers to help?’ Again, she tortured him with that hip-swinging strut to cross the room, where she waved at the vast assortment of flowers to read out the names on the cards. And there were a lot of them. ‘Get well soon, from Ginny… Need any nursing, from Katie… Cuddles and kisses, from Karen… And Christine says she wants to crush you in ways that should never be written on a Hallmark card.’ Izzy glanced over her shoulder at him with an arched eyebrow.

She then returned her attention to the cards attached to the various bunches of flowers. ‘Oh look, Linda sends her love… Julie has offered to play nurse… Amanda—’

‘Are you jealous?’Again, Craig collapsed back onto his bed, it was the only way to appease the throbbing combination of pains.

‘As if.’ Izzy rolled her eyes. ‘Honey, with this many offers, I should auction your arse off to the highest bidder, and then we can get you a professional babysitter.’

‘No, thank you.’ Dammit, he couldn’t even cross his arms over his chest without a stab of agony radiating through his ribs in waves. Of all the times to see Izzy again, for a chance to show off how big and tough he was—stuck in hospital while wearing a tacky hospital gown was not the look he was after. It was pathetic. ‘How about you tell me the real reason why you’re here?’

‘To sell my share of Dustfire.’ She didn’t even freaking blink. Not once.

‘NO.’ He scowled so darkly he was pretty sure his eyebrows were blending with his eyes.

‘By the looks of all these women’s names,’ she said, nodding at the large collection of flowers, ‘you don’t go home much.’

‘I do.’ Not really. ‘When I’m not working away on the musters.’

‘You’ve always been a cattleman through and through.’

‘I’m going to repeat the question…’ He gritted his teeth, with his hands in fists to try and control his rising temper. ‘What is the real reason you’re here?’ The woman was cunning enough to have an ulterior motive. She could always spot patterns and easily predict people’s next moves—so what was her game plan?

‘I just thought, while you’re recovering, I can spruce the place up and put it on the market. Or do you have enough money tucked away in some buried cowboy boot to buy me out?’

He paused. The less said the better , so said a certain cunning and cold criminal lawyer he once knew—who used to be the hottest babe in his bedsheets.

‘Probably not if you're busy bumming around the outback rodeo circuit, riding for chump change, to spend it on a buckle bunny or three.’ Again, she nodded at those flowers.

Was Izzy jealous?

Nope. Not even a twinge of emotion sparked in those cold, dark eyes of hers. Nothing.

Deep down, he knew there was more to her being here. But if he wanted out of this hospital, he’d have to play nice with the last person anyone expected—his long-lost wife.