by Laura Moore
The look she cast was utterly contemptuous. “What is your problem? Do you try to be a jerk or does it just come naturally to you? I guess you haven’t heard about sexual harassment. You must be a real hit with the women around here. They must love all these sweet nothings you whisper in their ears.”
“Absolutely. They think I’m Prince Charming.”
“Well, you remind me of a particularly nasty creature I once saw crawl out from under a rock,” she retorted hotly ignoring the deep laughter that erupted from him. “And don’t blame me just because Melissa has a screw loose and wouldn’t let me borrow the farm truck. I’m hardly thrilled myself at the thought of having a Neanderthal like you drive me around.”
“Aw Slim, how could you think that I’d be anything but delighted to have your delectable presence in my truck. So, you going to tell me what you need the car for? Got a hot date tomorrow? Or do you always like to go shopping for things that cost thousands of dollars?” His smile had Cassie’s palms itching.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I need to get a car for Thompson. She’ll need one while I’m at the stables during the day. What if the twins hurt themselves and she needs to get to a hospital? I thought I might as well look into it before I meet with Mr. Perkins at three o’clock. Seeing it’s only one now I have a little time to kill.”
“There’s a Ford dealership in town. They’re about as honest as you’ll get around here. I’ll drop you off and point out the street where the animal hospital is. After you’re done with Perkins, you can walk on over. I should still be there, unless there’s been an emergency call.”
He gave an ironic smile. “Then your chauffeur will be ready and waiting, Madam.”
“Gee, thanks. I feel so lucky.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, Slim.”
Caleb watched as she walked away and stopped opposite the street from Chuck Jones’s Ford dealership, waiting for a break in the traffic to cross. The churned air of the passing cars made her skirt float up, revealing tempting glimpses of calves and knees. A large truck passed in front of her and the air rushing behind it caused the skirt to flatten against her, the thin fabric wrapping around her legs as she moved. The cotton shirt hugged her gently rounded breasts. Every line of her body was revealed.
Caleb closed his eyes. Wishing fervently it were five o’clock and he could have a shot of whiskey. Perhaps a whole damn bottle. In a burst of frustration, he punched the heel of his hand against the rim of the steering wheel. What an ass he’d been to her. Once more he cursed Melissa’s transparent and deliberate maneuver to get him and Cassie together. What he needed was to keep away from Cassie, not to have her close, mere inches away smelling like a lush summer garden, driving him crazy with need.
The afternoon had gone well, Cassie thought with quiet satisfaction. She was the proud new lessor of a Ford Taurus station wagon. Really, it had been quite thrilling, almost liberating, to walk into the dealership and come out with a lease agreement in hand a short eighty minutes later. She’d had enormous fun haggling over the terms and bargaining for extras in the model she chose. This was the first car she’d ever gotten by herself; her father had bought her Jeep for her when she went away to college. Other than Hot Lips, this car was her first major acquisition. From what she’d read in the automobile magazines her brother Alex received each month, Fords were dependable cars. She wanted Thompson comfortable and the twins safe.
The meeting with John Perkins had been successful, too. He’d listened patiently while Cassie briefly described the twins’ history; he’d seemed extremely accommodating, nodding agreeably when she’d requested that Sophie and Jamie be put together in the same classroom. A few sympathetic words made it clear he understood her anxiety that the twins might feel lost without each other’s presence.
At the end of their meeting, Perkins took Cassie to the kindergarten classroom, where he introduced her to the head teacher, busy straightening up the empty room and preparing for the next day’s activities. The teacher, Miss Springer, a pretty woman with long, dark hair and a cheerful smile, seemed full of enthusiasm and goodwill, even at the end of the school day. Cassie tried to picture in her mind what she’d look like after a day spent with a class of fifteen five-year-olds and decided that this woman was a true professional and probably had the stamina of an ox.
Feeling vastly reassured as she left the school, Cassie followed the directions Caleb had given her to the animal hospital. She walked along the tree-lined street, observing with delight the small nubs forming on the tips of the branches. Cassie loved springtime. It thrilled her that she would be able to catch it unfolding moment by moment here in the Virginia hills. She felt sorry for her brother Alex, tied to the financial market of New York. She wished there were some way he too could get out. Perhaps he’d start visiting on weekends. He’d miss the kids so much. She hated to think of him alone in the city, without the twins’ noise and constant energy filling their home.
At the end of the street she saw it. Her steps quickened. Though she was loath to admit it, curiosity filled her at the chance to see Caleb’s hospital, how he looked in his professional setting.
The hospital was a low ranch-style building, painted a light grey with white trim. A white wooden sign hung suspended by a short chain over the threshold, with Animal Hospital inscribed in black. As she reached the short walkway that led to the door, she noticed a sign with the names: C. Wells, D. Cole, and M. Winterer—all DVMs. Cassie entered through the white front door, and into the reception area.
The front office of the animal hospital was clean and brightly lit. The floors were covered in a terra-cotta tile-style of linoleum, and on the walls, large prints and posters of animals added decoration and color. Set against the walls, an assortment of wooden garden benches and chairs were being used by a handful of people with their family pets on their laps, seated next to them, or at their feet. Cassie counted three dogs and two cat carriers. The animals’ excitement was obvious in the panting of dogs and in the mewling within the sturdy plastic cat carriers. The reassuring murmurs of the owners speaking to their pets, trying to keep the animals’ anxiety to a minimum made a nice background noise. A few people glanced up at Cassie curiously, making her realize she was the only person in the waiting room without a pet in tow.
The receptionist was busy speaking into the phone, entering an appointment onto the computer screen in front of her, nodding her head as she listened to some worried owner describing symptoms. When Cassie caught her eye, the receptionist gave a distracted smile.
“Right, Mrs. Sherman,” she returned calmly “you can bring Bubbles in on Thursday morning at nine o’clock. Well, it will either be Dr. Wells or Dr. Cole, depending on which one is out on call. No, I’m afraid Dr. Winterer has the day off on Thursday. Yes, I’ll make sure Dr. Wells gets the message and returns your call. Good-bye, Mrs. Sherman, we’ll see you and Bubbles on Thursday at nine.”
With a small sigh she placed the phone in its cradle and looked up at Cassie. “May I help you?” Her voice had a rich Virginia accent.
“Hello, I’m Cassie Miller. I’m here to meet Dr. Wells.”
The receptionist looked at her with sharpened interest, and her smile grew friendlier. “Oh, yes, Caleb told me to expect you. I’m Joyce, the office manager for the hospital.” At Cassie’s answering smile, Joyce cocked her head to the side and asked inquisitively, “So, you’re Caleb and Hank’s new trainer. How do you like it over at Five Oaks?”
“So far it’s great. The horses are outstanding, and I really love the country here. It’s incredibly beautiful. Are you from around here?”
She nodded. “Born and bred. I only went away for college, and that was just fifty miles away. My husband, Dan, he’s from Tennessee. When we first married, we discussed moving back to his hometown, but I just couldn’t. Practically all my family is still here. And Dan’s found a good job in an electronics company so I guess we’re here for the long haul.”
“Will Caleb be busy fo
r much longer? I can take a walk around town, explore a bit, and then come back later.”
“You don’t have to do that, unless you want to. Caleb’s got three patients left, and two of them are just routine checkups and shots. It shouldn’t take long. Caleb’s such a doll, isn’t he?”
Cassie looked at Joyce, hoping her astonishment at Joyce’s characterization wasn’t utterly transparent. “Yes,” she replied, smiling faintly, “I guess you might say that.”
Cassie sat down on a bench next to an elderly gentleman. His tawny boxer, named Finnegan, sat on the floor between them, his head on his owner’s knees in a silent plea to be scratched. The gentleman happily complied. Then the dog’s soulful dark eyes fixed on Cassie as if to ask why she, too, wasn’t giving him this delightful attention. Cassie was enchanted.
“May I pet your dog?” she inquired, wanting to be sure that she hadn’t misinterpreted the dog’s seeming friendliness.
“Oh, sure. Finnegan’s a bit confused, thinks he’s a Pekinese. He’d like nothing better than to jump in your lap and be stroked and petted all day, the big lug.” The man grinned, affection for his dog clear in the helpless shrug of his shoulders while his fingers continued to stroke the sleek tan coat.
Cassie reached out and laid her hand against the crown of Finnegan’s head, feeling the warmth and softness of the dog’s coat against her palm. Finnegan turned his head up to her face and gave her what Cassie could only describe as a grin, obviously thrilled to have the two humans’ attention centered on him.
“He especially likes to have his ears scratched, Miss,” his owner said helpfully. Cassie immediately shifted her hand to the side, following the fold at the back of the dog’s ear. Finnegan responded by lifting his head and shifting his body fractionally so that Cassie’s lap now became his pillow. Both Cassie and the owner laughed, and the man said with mock despair, “No sense of loyalty whatsoever.”
For the next five minutes Cassie sat happily while Finnegan warmed the tops of her thighs, his eyes half closed. A door opened. Finnegan raised his head and looked toward the noise. A split second later he was bounding across the floor, his leash trailing behind him.
Caleb, absorbed in the sheet of paper in his hand, glanced up just in time to see Finnegan charging across the room. Dropping to a kneeling crouch, Caleb opened his arms wide as the dog came barreling toward him, with all the speed of a bullet train. The paper fluttered into the air on impact. Cassie heard a small “Oof!” as Finnegan slammed into Caleb and grinned at the sight of the dog’s body wriggling with excitement inside the frame of Caleb’s bent knees and long arms.
“Yes, yes. That’s a good boy Finnegan. Easy now. What a big bruiser you are.” Smiling, Caleb looked up in the direction Finnegan had come from and spotted Cassie and the owner watching with amusement the ecstatic dog’s antics.
“Too bad Finnegan doesn’t play football, Mr. O’Mally the ’Skins could use a good tackle.”
“I apologize for letting him go, Dr. Wells. But Finnegan would have probably dislocated my shoulder if I’d tried to hold onto that leash. I figured you stood a better chance at recovering from any injury. Bones take longer to heal at my age, you know.”
“Don’t worry about it. To tell you the truth, I’d be disappointed if I didn’t get my usual hello from Finnegan.” Giving the dog a vigorous scratch around his thickly muscled neck and shoulder, he continued. “What never fails to amaze me, though, is that Finnegan continues to like me despite all the shots and, uh, procedures I’ve done on him.”
“He’s got a forgiving soul, Dr. Wells.”
“That he does.” Caleb smiled in agreement. Retrieving the sheet of paper that had landed a short distance away and holding Finnegan’s leash in his left hand, he approached the bench where Cassie and Mr. O’Mally sat. His eyes were trained on Cassie.
She wondered when her heart rate was going to quit skyrocketing every time those dark brown eyes settled on her. Quickly she averted her own gaze, and fixed it on Caleb’s hand firmly wrapped around the exuberant dog’s leash.
“Hi. How’d it go with Perkins?”
“Fine.” Cassie looked up, her blue eyes hesitantly meeting his for a moment, resisting the urge to lose herself in his dark, compelling gaze. “Would you like me to come back later? I can see you’re busy.”
“No, not unless you mind waiting a bit. Finnegan’s just here for his annual shots, right Mr. O’Mally?” At the older man’s nod, Caleb continued. “There are some magazines over on that small table in the corner. Horse journals, too. After Finnegan, I’ve only got two patients. Joyce will handle closing up.”
True to his word, twenty minutes later, Cassie was saying good-bye to Joyce and being ushered out the door by Caleb, his large hand pressed against the small curve of her back. The truck was parked just to the side of the building. They walked together, Cassie already accustomed to Caleb’s habit of escorting her to the car door. As Caleb closed his fingers around the door handle, Cassie vaguely registered the sound of a car pulling in the lot, its horn honking.
At the noise, Caleb looked up and muttered, “Damn it all,” in tired resignation.
Cassie glanced at him curiously, her mind conjuring up images of annoying clients and vicious cats. Then she took in the flashy, low-slung sports car, her eyes widening as sleek long legs clad in sheer stockings emerged gracefully from its interior. Caleb’s hand dropped from the pickup truck’s door and she heard him expel a small sigh. But when she looked up at his face it was expressionless, his firm lips set in a straight line, his eyes carefully blank.
The woman approached, her attention fixed on Caleb as she made her way toward them. She was dressed in a light pink wool suit, the miniskirt revealing practically the entire length of her shapely legs. Dark, glamorous, with shoulderlength chestnut hair styled in thick waves around her face, the woman was stunning. Blessed with a complexion as light as cream, her eyes appeared darker than night. Her brightly painted mouth was parted wide, smiling at Caleb with a thousand-watt force.
“Hello, Pamela. What brings you here?”
Cassie’s eyes quickly darted back to the outrageously glamorous woman. This was Caleb’s ex?
“Oh, I just dropped by to see you, to make sure you’re all right.” Her lips pressed forward into an enticing little pout.
Cassie wondered whether she practiced that often in the mirror.
“It upsets me when I don’t hear from you,” Pamela con-tinued, advancing until not more than a foot separated them. “You know how much I enjoy our little chats.”
Caleb snorted, shaking his head, but didn’t deign to respond. Instead, he asked, “Where’s Stuart?”
“Off to London on a buying trip. Some duke or other is selling off his string of polo ponies.”
“And you didn’t accompany him?” Caleb smiled cynically. “You were always such an avid buyer.”
Pamela took a step even closer to Caleb. “Oh, I’ve already got my spring wardrobe picked out. English fash ion is so conservative, and you know me, Caleb,” she began as she trailed a perfectly manicured nail down the front of Caleb’s shirt, “polo ponies are not my thing. I prefer owning really big horses.”
Filled with a kind of sick fascination as she watched this woman flirt so blatantly with Caleb, Cassie couldn’t tear her eyes away as Pamela flashed yet another practiced smile.
“By the way, how is Orion doing?”
“He’s fine.” His eyes flashing briefly with impatience and something else Cassie couldn’t quite decipher.
“I should drop by some time and see him, just to make sure.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. Anyway you might get your shoes dirty.”
“Oh, Caleb,” Pamela breathed, shaking her head gently so that her hair swished softly back and forth across her shoulders. “You’re always so amusing. Well if you don’t want me to see him at Five Oaks”— her fingernail flicked experimentally against the fabric of Caleb’s shirt—“you could tell me all about him over a d
rink, keep me abreast. Like old times.”
The nail polish on Pamela’s long-tapered finger was an exact match with her lipstick. Cassie thought of her own ruthlessly pared, unvarnished nails and felt about as attractive as a slug. The lip gloss she’d applied earlier for her meeting with John Perkins had probably worn off, too. And she was going to punch this Pamela’s lights out if she didn’t get her hands off Caleb, now.
Caleb had turned as if to stone as Pamela’s red-tipped finger playfully meandered across the soft cotton of his shirt. With cold deliberation, he took a step backwards, leaving Pamela’s slender finger poised in midair. Her smile vanished as her lips thinned into an angry line.
Good! Cassie said fiercely to herself, her own mouth curving into a smile at the sight of Pamela’s finger left dangling ridiculously. She was pleased Caleb wasn’t falling for such an obvious sexual come-on, though she’d bet the farm that most men’s tongues would be hanging past their knees after being treated to a performance like Pamela’s.
She must have made some sort of movement, because Pamela turned her head suddenly as if only just now aware of Cassie’s presence. The look she gave Cassie appraised and rejected in a matter of seconds.
“And who’s this, Caleb? You haven’t introduced me. Where are those impeccable manners of yours?”
Resigned, knowing there was no way to avoid an introduction, he spoke. “Cassie, this is Pamela Ross. Pamela, this is Cassie Miller.” Cassie nodded. If Pamela noticed the gesture, she didn’t bother to acknowledge it, shifting all her attention back to Caleb.
“A little young, isn’t she, Caleb?”
“Cassie works at Five Oaks.”
“And what exactly does she do for you at the farm? Or need I ask?” she inquired archly her eyes cold. The barb was painfully obvious.
Determined to put Pamela in her place with an equally cutting remark, Cassie opened her mouth. But Caleb spoke first.