by Laura Moore
He’d bet money this was now the cleanest border terrier in the history of the canine race, Caleb reflected ruefully. The owner had called yesterday, wanting to drop him off as soon as possible. The dog had apparently been let out to roam the woods. From the way he stank, Caleb figured he had probably run through a primeval swamp and then had an unlucky encounter with a skunk—more likely an army of skunks.
The dog reeked to high heaven.
Amazingly enough, Jamie and Sophie didn’t even seem to notice the smell. Or perhaps not so amazing, after all. Caleb was coming to the conclusion that five-year-olds were about as predictable as little green men from Mars.
As soon as Caleb had placed the small, wiry-haired terrier in the tub the staff used for flea dips, shampoos, and medicated baths, the twins were eager to lend a hand, oblivious to the god-awful stench coming from the little dog’s coat.
He’d been extra cautious in the beginning, instructing the children repeatedly to be quiet and to move slowly so as not to frighten the dog, but it soon became clear that the terrier was neither fazed by the prospect of a bath nor alarmed by the feel of two small children rubbing their lathered hands over his grimy body.
Caleb hadn’t actually planned on being the one to administer the bath to the terrier himself—there was a high-school student who worked as an apprentice during the afternoons and on Saturdays who could have had the pleasure of dealing with this mini stink bomb, but for some reason, Caleb couldn’t resist the sight of these kids’ undiluted pleasure in scrubbing an animal clean.
14
I t was a cloudless evening, a perfect ending to the first truly beautiful spring day. The sun had set, but there were still jagged streaks of deep pink and peach coloring the darkening sky. The air was pleasantly crisp, lending a refreshing bite to the evening air. Virginia’s weather was nothing if not bizarre. In the short space of a week people might very well need their air conditioners to sleep comfortably through the night.
In deference to the chill in the evening air and also to the fact that he’d forgotten to pick up his laundry at the dry cleaners, Caleb had dragged from the far recesses of his closet shelf a light sweater his sister Emily had given him a few years back. It wasn’t one of his favorites, even though his mother and sister had both oohed and aahed when he’d dutifully tried it on for them that Christmas morning. And he couldn’t very well show up to dinner in a ten-year-old T-shirt or a dirty sweatshirt. All his other clothes were either still at the dry cleaners or crammed into the laundry hamper, waiting for the expert washing of his housekeeper Mrs. Trapp.
The big house was brightly lit as Caleb made his way through the deepening darkness. Seeing the house this way Caleb acknowledged that Melissa Sawyer had been right. His parents’ house did need people living in it. It was good to see it filled again, illuminated from within.
As he neared the front of the house he saw that in spite of the coolness of the evening, the porch was the predinner gathering place. Caleb heard the voices of Hank and Melissa, mixed with the higher tones of Jamie and Sophie. Coming closer, he saw that both Cassie and Alex Miller were present, too.
His steps ground to a halt as his eyes slid back to Cassie’s seated form. He drank it in. She was seated on the wicker sofa, her long legs curled up underneath her. Her skirt flowed out from her waist, pooling in a circle around her. The golden shimmer of her hair picked up the lights of the porch’s lanterns. Cassie had twisted it up into some kind of a knot, but, as usual, little wisps escaped and fell in curling tendrils down the slender column of her neck. Caleb’s eyes traveled over the soft, delicate flesh. His blood began to pound just from the sight of her.
He saw her head turn in his direction, searching the darkness, as if aware of his presence. Their eyes collided and held. The night air changed. Heat flared, the atmosphere alive with a charged energy that pulsed between them. Both remained utterly still. Simply looking. Absorbing.
“Caleb! Caleb!”
The spell was broken.
Sophie had noticed Caleb’s arrested figure in the deepening shadows and had jumped from her perch on Uncle Alex’s lap to greet the newcomer.
“Caleb, Caleb,” she repeated, barreling down the front porch steps. Her arms flapped at her side with every step she descended.
“How’s Jake? Did he go home?” she inquired, referring to the border terrier she and Jamie had helped bathe earlier in the afternoon.
“Hey munchkin,” Caleb replied affectionately his hand reaching out to ruffle her curls. “Yeah, Jake’s owner came by and picked him up. Boy, was he impressed with the fine job you and Jamie did. Said he’d never seen Jake so clean before.” Caleb grinned at the sight of the little girl beaming with pride. He turned his attention to the others, his gaze finally coming once again to rest on Cassie. Closer now Caleb could see the soft blush that colored her cheeks. The lip gloss she wore made her lips look wet and luscious, tempting him to wrap his arms around her and kiss her for a year, then move on to all the other body parts he’d been dreaming about.
His voice, low with desire, addressed her. “Good evening, Cassie, you look lovely tonight.” His eyes still targeted hers with laserlike force, before reluctantly acknowledging the others seated around her. Turning to the older woman, he nodded, his expression losing its intensity as a friendly smile of greeting replaced it. “Melissa, you look nice, too.”
Melissa laughed dryly. “Gee thanks, Caleb. That’s the nicest compliment I’ve heard in a while.”
“Now Melissa, you know I have to watch what I say to you or Hank will deck me. I’m just protecting our partnership.”
“Damn straight, Casanova. Can’t have all the women in the county at your beck and call,” Hank shot back good naturedly momentarily forgetting Cassie’s quiet presence. A sharp pain from his wife’s elbow jabbing his rib cage had him muttering embarrassedly something about Caleb being such a “good vet and all.”
Hank’s careless statement stung like a slap in the face. Idiot! Why did she persist in living in this fantasy world? Of course someone like Caleb would have women falling over themselves, eager to feel the heat of that dark gaze on them and the sweet, drugging pleasure of his kisses. So what if she was susceptible to his intense, seductive power? It didn’t matter that tremors still raced through her just from the way he’d been looking at her moments ago. He probably wasn’t even aware of his effect on her. That was just the way he was. She had to stop kidding herself that the way Caleb looked at her was special or unique, that the desire she read in his eyes was for her alone.
An uncomfortable silence settled like a wet blanket on the porch. Broodingly Caleb watched Cassie, wishing he could read her thoughts. Her head was averted now showing the clean lines of her delicate profile but hiding her expression from him. His gaze dropped to her hands. He frowned as he saw how tightly she clasped them together in her lap.
Suddenly Melissa stood, drawing everyone’s attention. With determined cheerfulness, she announced that Thompson must need help getting dinner on the table.
“Cassie, dear, let’s go see whether we can make ourselves useful. I’ll bring out the cheese and crackers. Caleb, do you want a beer?”
“That’d be great. Thanks, Melissa.”
The men remained silent as Cassie and Melissa opened the front door and disappeared into the house. Caleb shot Hank a glance that had the older man apologizing sheepishly.
“Geez, sorry, Caleb. Just shooting the bull. Forgot about Cassie sitting there.”
Alex Miller spoke up for the first time since Caleb’s arrival, his voice hard with cynicism. “Don’t lose any sleep over it, Hank. You didn’t say anything Cassie couldn’t figure out for herself. She’d be foolish to think otherwise.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent. No way he was going to justify his sex life to that hypocrite. From where he stood, Miller looked about as capable of monogamy and fidelity as a tomcat on the prowl. Ignoring Miller completely, he moved from his position next to the porch’s col
umn to sit next to Jamie.
“Hey, Champ. How’s it going?”
“Okay.” Jamie looked at Caleb with slightly troubled eyes, his face screwed up. A study in five-year-old perplexity. Oh, no, thought Caleb to himself. He had a bad feeling about this. He braced himself for the unknown.
“Caleb,” Jamie began, his voice as puzzled as his expression. “What are you wearing a purple sweater for?” He paused a minute as if considering and then continued, his voice now full of certainty. His small voice rang with authority. “Only girls wear purple . . . purple’s yucky!”
Damn, this kid was sharp. That’s exactly what he’d thought when he’d opened up his sister’s gift.
Caleb blocked out the muffled snorts of laughter coming from Alex and Hank as he racked his brain for a satisfactory response to Jamie’s question.
His mind drew a complete blank.
Finally, he decided to parrot his sister Emily’s words of fashion wisdom. “Well, Jamie, it’s kind of like this. You see, I can wear purple if I want because it means I’m in touch with my feminine side.”
Damn, that sounded utterly bogus. Lame.
“What’s a feminine side?” Jamie inquired, his voice puzzled once more.
Beats me. “Uh, women seem to understand what it means a bit better than men, Jamie. I think Cosmo must have invented it.”
“Oh. Who’s he?”
The snorts of laughter grew to guffaws.
Luckily, Caleb was rescued from having to answer Jamie’s last question when Thompson’s voice called Jamie inside to supper. Caleb breathed a prayer of thanks as the little boy scampered back into the house.
Quiet descended once more on the front porch.
“So, Wells, does that mean you like pastel-colored boxers, too?” Alex Miller’s tone was calculatingly provoking.
Caleb looked at Cassie’s brother and gave an amused shake of his dark head. Smiling broadly he stretched his long, muscular legs in front of him. “Oh, I never wear shorts, Miller. I find it interferes with the action. Know what I mean?”
Alex’s chair screeched loudly against the wooden planks of the porch as he shot out of it. His face taut with fury. However irrationally, since the moment he first laid eyes on Caleb, it seemed as if Alex was waiting for the slightest excuse, the tiniest provocation, to try to annihilate the man. Anticipating his response, Caleb bounded up, ready for him, just as eager to pound him into the ground.
Hank stared, astonished at the lightening quick reflexes of the two younger men. Realizing that he was about to witness the equivalent of a barroom brawl on the Wells’s front porch, he rose a fraction more slowly to his feet, placing a restraining hand on each man’s chest.
“Hey come on guys, calm down. This is neither the time nor the place. Melissa and Cassie’ll be back any minute.”
“Just keep your goddamn fly zipped around my sister Wells,” Alex ground out through clenched teeth. Raw anger still stamped across his face, he left, slamming the screen door behind him.
Hank let his breath out in a slow whistle. “Jesus, Mary and the Heavenly Host, Caleb, what’s the matter with you two?”
“The guy really rubs me the wrong way ” Caleb replied shortly. “Came to the hospital today and warned me to keep my hands off Cassie.”
“So?”
“So, I told him I didn’t like being threatened.” Caleb flashed a feral smile at Hank. “Almost got to pound the shit out of him this afternoon, too, but the twins popped up. Guess I’ll have to save it for later.” He sounded as impatient as a kid waiting for Christmas.
Hank grinned at the younger man. “I wouldn’t get too cocky kid. Miller doesn’t look exactly like a wuss to me.” He paused and added more seriously, “Anyway he’s just doing the same as you’d do, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, let’s imagine you in his shoes. Take Emily. Suppose that instead of her being twelve years older than you, she was your kid sister. Then imagine that she was basically all you had left in terms of family. I ask you, what would you do if someone like you was practically living in the same house, seeing her every day, giving her those long, hot looks . . . can’t say I blame him. Especially with the way you look at Cassie, like a Texan in front of a steak, like a chocoholic in a confectionery like a teenager in a mall, like a . . .”
“Yeah, yeah . . .” Caleb interrupted dryly. “I think I get the subtle simile you’re trying to make here. A Texan with a steak? Jesus Christ, Hank!” Caleb grimaced in distaste.
“Melissa says I have a poet’s way with words.”
“Does she mean those little paperback things they sell at the checkout line, right next to the National Enquirer, the ones you stick in your back pocket and carry around for inspiration?”
“Yup.” Hank rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, his hands behind his back, his face choirboy innocent. A broad smile slowly covered his face. He felt inordinately pleased with himself. He loved getting digs into Caleb and jumped at every opportunity that presented itself.
“Well, I’m still looking forward to knocking that SOB’s lights out.”
“Hell, partner.” Hank chuckled. “From what I’ve seen, my guess is that he’s thinking precisely the same thing.”
Cassie wasn’t sure she’d survive dinner. By the time she’d helped the twins into their pajamas and come back downstairs, Melissa and Thompson had set all the food on the table and everyone had gathered at their places. Cassie’s heart plummeted as she realized the only remaining seat was next to Caleb. He was holding the chair out for her. Their eyes met, and Caleb’s eyebrow lifted slightly sardonically. He was challenging her, as if he knew exactly how reluctant she was to sit next to him.
His look dared her to back down.
Silently, she took her place and steeled herself to ignore him. Her resolve lasted about five minutes. As the conversation began to flow about her, Cassie caught herself stealing little peeks at the sleekly muscled forearm that rested so casually next to her. How was it possible to feel such positively guilty pleasure shoot through her simply from the sight afforded by her peripheral vision? Once they’d strayed, her eyes traveled involuntarily, repeatedly, down the length of his arm to his strong, well-shaped hands and then back up again. She noted the shape, the strength, the colors. She loved how the deep purple wool of his sweater contrasted with the dark hairs sprinkling his lightly tanned skin. He was all muscle and sinew. He took her breath away.
Had a woman bought him that sweater, knowing how it would accentuate his dark, masculine good looks? Without a doubt, she concluded glumly.
It only took a glance, first at Cassie’s strained face, her eyes seemingly fixed on the cotton weave of the tablecloth, and then at the simmering anger emanating from her brother, Alex, for Melissa to realize that unless someone did something fast, the dinner had all the earmarks of a disaster. Melissa was hopeful, however that if she could get the ball rolling, Cassie might soon feel in her element. While she didn’t know what had sent Alex Miller into this seething rage, that came a far second in Melissa’s list of priorities. What she really wanted was to give Cassie and Caleb yet another nudge down the path to happily ever after. But it wouldn’t happen if Cassie continued to sit there like a statue entitled, Misery.
Melissa began talking shoptalk.
Slowly, by imperceptible degrees, Cassie’s body relaxed. She leaned forward, elbows braced against the table, listening to Melissa as the older woman rattled off questions for Hank about bloodlines and the selection of broodmares. Like a pro Melissa gently reeled Caleb into the conversation, encouraging him to recount some of the more outrageous escapades he and Hank had been involved in during their buying trips.
“And how’s your mare Hot Lips doing, Cassie?” Melissa inquired, hoping she’d hit upon a topic that would draw both Cassie and Caleb into conversation.
“Well, Caleb’s been using laser therapy on her tendon. And we’ve finished having to ice her ” she paused, and her head tilted inquiringly
at Caleb. “But I have to confess I’m not sure what you have in mind for her next.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. Didn’t get a chance to discuss it with you earlier today, but I decided to give a call to an old friend of mine who’s a professor now at U. Penn. We were at vet school together.”
“What’s your idea, Caleb?” Hank asked, joining in.
“It’s Cassie’s decision. But if it’s all right with you, I thought that once we finished the first phase of treatment on Hot Lips, after we’ve seen how she goes with hand walking, and after she’s ready to begin some light exercise, we might send her up to Pennsylvania.”
“What can they do for her there?” Cassie asked, anxiously hoping that surgery wouldn’t be involved.
“They’ve got a tank. It occurred to me we can get her strong again working her in the water. The exercise in the water will help ensure that her recovery is stress free.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Cassie agreed, thinking of how Hot Lips’s crow hops and bucks would be avoided with Caleb’s solution. “But isn’t there an aqua tank that’s closer? Do you think it would even be possible to arrange?” Her mind was already awhirl with the details involved: how to transport Hot Lips, the probable cost of treating her at a place like U. Penn . . .
Caleb shook his head and lifted his hand to rub the line of his jaw. “I wish we had a tank here ourselves, but at this point, we don’t have the money or the necessary facilities. U. Penn is the closest and has the best school around, and I have a friend on the staff who owes me a favor. He’ll take on Hot Lips pro bono.”
“Wow. That’s some favor he must owe you,” Hank com-mented.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all the time and effort you’ve given to Hot Lips.”
“I’m happy to. She’s a horse with lots of potential. I’m curious to see what you make of her. Besides, Tod loves doing me favors.” He smiled roguishly. “I helped him find true love.” Those had been the good old days, back at vet school. His best friend at school, Tod Harper, a dedicated womanizer, had been bent on seducing the daughter of the dean of the veterinary school. It had been Caleb who’d consented, after hours of pleading on Tod’s part, to sit up half the night, drinking brandy with the dean and racking his sodden brain for one medical question after another.