by Marie Jermy
At the same time of Ramona wrenching her hand free, Rex abruptly turned and stalked into his bedroom. “I have thought about it. I’m not selling. Oh, and clean up after you’ve finished,” he said with a growl, slamming the door shut.
* * * *
Her heart thumping wildly against her rib cage, Ramona closed the bathroom door, rested back against it, and swallowed the sharp curse. She hadn’t meant to threaten Rex because basically that was what it had been, but, dammit, if she hadn’t, and he’d kissed her, it would have led to her wanting Rex altogether. His body. His mind. His heart… No, no, no! Wanting his heart was way too close to love.
And I don’t do love! Ramona sternly reminded herself as she went over to the hand basin and brushed her teeth. Then, and for some inexplicable reason, to her at least, she scrubbed the bath until it shone and all thoughts of wanting Rex had been rinsed down the drain.
By mid-morning, however, she did want Rex, though in an entirely different context.
While Rex was out back checking a recent delivery, she was seated on reception opening the morning’s mail and inwardly cursing the air conditioning unit that had decided to fritz out, when a heavily tattooed man, dressed only in a greasy pair of denim dungarees, puffed across the threshold. In one meaty hand, he held a red-white-and-blue bandana that he used to wipe his shaved head with, the other, the handle of a large brown cardboard box that had holes punctured in all four sides.
She’d never seen the man before, and though his appearance didn’t bother her in the slightest, Ramona just knew whatever was in that box would. She rose to her feet and mustered a friendly smile. “Good morning. Dr. Ramona Anderson. How can I help, Mr…?”
“Ed Donovan.” A puzzled frown appeared. “Doctor? But you’re a vet, right?”
She nodded. “Yes. Vets are commonly referred to as doctors. I’m also the co-owner.”
The frown disappeared, and Donovan puffed out a relieved breath, again wiped his shaved head, and approached the desk, carefully placing the box on the opened letters. “I’m worried about Reggie…”
“Reggie?”
Donovan flipped the lid from the box, and Ramona felt the blood drain from her face. Inside, coiled in what she guessed to be a meter long yellow-and-white patterned spiral, a fearsome-looking snake stared back at her with beady brown eyes.
“He’s an albino Burmese python,” Donovan informed her. “Killer, isn’t he?”
“More than likely,” she murmured, taking a nervous step back. “Um, you said you’re worried?”
“Yeah, I’m new to the area. Me and the wife moved to Butte from Philadelphia ’bout a week ago, and we thought Reggie had coped well. But this morning, I notice he don’t look too good. Been off his food.” Donovan smiled as he gave his pet an affectionate rub.
“I see. May I ask where you heard about us?”
“I went online and saw your website.” His smile faltered. “Say, aren’t you gonna pick him up and examine him?”
Ramona froze. Pick up and examine a snake? Oh, crap. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her white coat. “I, ah, um…”
Donovan’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re a vet?”
Still frozen, Ramona could only manage a dumb nod before a Southern voice behind her drawled, “Well, she’s definitely not the receptionist.” A pair of strong hands cupped her shoulders and slowly turned her around. Staring straight down at her, Rex’s toffee-brown eyes held a derisive glint before they softened as they studied her pale face.
Only her continuing rigor mortis–like state, a state Ramona hoped was temporary, allowed him to divest her of her vet’s coat and slide the top two buttons of her black sleeveless shirt free from their enclosures, his fingertips causing a rush of heated tingles from her head to her toes as they brushed against her skin. The breath that fanned her face, a potent cocktail of rich-roasted coffee and hot man, heightened her awareness of just how close Rex actually was.
“I can assure you, Dr. Anderson is a vet. And a professional one at that,” he said to Donovan over her shoulder, seemingly unaffected with the amount of flesh he had exposed.
“Then why isn’t she acting like one? Reggie needs treating.”
“Because, Mr…?”
“Donovan. Ed Donovan.”
“Because, Mr. Ed Donovan, due to the heat I’m sure that if Dr. Anderson doesn’t take a seat and drink a glass of water soon, she’ll faint on us.”
Ramona stared back at Rex, thankful for the half-lie. Yes, she did feel like fainting, but not through the heat. While on one hand, Rex’s touch had given her a good case of the shakes, Reggie’s beady eyes and the way his forked tongue darted in and out were giving her a really bad case.
His mouth—Rex’s, that is—curved into a smile that bordered on smug as he escorted her from the reception through to the house. “If you’ll give me a minute to make Dr. Anderson comfortable, Mr. Donovan, I’ll take a look at Reggie for you.”
Once Ramona was seated at the kitchen table, a glass of water in her hand, she opened her mouth to speak, but Rex held up a hand and cut her off.
“We’ll talk later.”
And then he was gone.
Ramona finished her water and got another, then went outside to sit on the swing seat in the enclosed rear garden. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent from the jasmine scrambling up a nearby trellis. It did wonders to alleviate the disgust she felt for herself. Granted, Reggie was her first snake, but that was no excuse for her reaction. Donovan had every right to post negative feedback on the practice’s website.
She began to swing the seat, the gentle breeze it produced pleasant on her bare arms. Ever since she was a little girl when she’d discovered a talent to nursing sick and injured birds back to full health and flight, she’d wanted to be a vet. While Samantha had wanted to work with children, Ramona had wanted to work with animals.
It had been the proudest day of her life when she’d gained her DVM, but the dream had come true when Stephens, despite holding the prehistoric view that women should stay at home, had employed her and then asked if she’d be interested in becoming his partner. Interested? She’d near enough bitten his hand off.
Working with Stephens hadn’t been easy, though, and some of her ideas to modernize the practice had been met with disapproval. Stephens could really be stuck in the past, particularly when it came to technology, preferring pen and paper to computers and laser printers. Once the laptop had been installed, however, and she’d taught him the basics, he’d conceded it to be useful and even expressed an interest with an online veterinary questions and answers service. The only thing he wouldn’t be swayed on was the appointments book. Ramona had let him have that, only because she had the feeling it was really for Mimi’s benefit, who was even more wary of computers than Stephens had ever been.
But now all her hard work appeared in jeopardy, and all because of her hesitancy to handle a sick snake who needed her help. No doubt if Donovan did post negative feedback on their website, and Stephens saw it, which he would—the novice had turned into an expert—he would probably catch the first flight back, his “women-should-not-be-allowed-in-the-workplace” sermon rolling out of his mouth before she could say “Let me explain.”
On a curse, Ramona stopped the seat, drank the water, and returned the glass to the ground. Actually, truth be told, she couldn’t care less about what Donovan or Stephens did or didn’t do. She only cared about Rex. Well, not cared cared, but she was concerned as to what he thought of her. Sure, he’d called her professional, but really, and by her own admission, “pathetic” would have been a more suitable description. The day before, he may have satisfied her, but today, just then, she had spectacularly fallen short of satisfying him.
He’d said they’d talk later, so Ramona closed her eyes and waited for Rex to put his true opinion of her into words. She didn’t need to think very hard about it though because his smug smile had said it all.
* * * *
“Mr. D
onovan, any chance you might be pregnant?”
Rex laughed at his own joke and indicated to Donovan to hold Reggie still while he took a series of X-rays along the entire length of the snake’s body.
“If I am, I won’t be the first. Didn’t a man give birth last year? Well, I say a man, but really, he was a she who kept all his, or rather her, interior plumbing. If you know what I mean. A serious oddball if you ask me. It’s the kid I feel sorry for. Not knowing to call mummy ‘Mummy’ or ‘Daddy.’”
Rex glanced up at Donovan, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. As he processed the films, he decided to ask about Reggie. “How long have you had Reggie?”
“Since he was a baby. It’ll be a year next month.”
“What do you feed him?”
“Rodents and other small animals. I buy ’em online from a specialized store. Reggie’s well cared for. He don’t want for nothing. I know he looks menacing, probably scared the crap out of the little lady, but he’s real friendly. You give him love and respect, he’ll give it back.”
Rex smiled at the obvious pride to Donovan’s tone as he patted the snake on the head and gently coiled him up and placed him back in his box. His smile widened when he noticed Reggie eyeing his master with a “no-don’t-put-me-back-in-here” look before the lid blocked him from view.
He chose an X-ray taken of the midsection and held it up to the light, where he instantly spotted the problem. To be certain of his diagnosis, he attached it to the lighted display screen on the wall. “Do you play a racquet sport, Mr. Donovan? Badminton, maybe?”
“The wife does. Why?”
“Because”—Rex pointed to a white conical-shaped object—“it looks like Reggie has swallowed a shuttlecock. As you can see, it’s somehow become stuck at the bottom of the gullet. No wonder he’s off his food. He can’t swallow.”
“Aw, man.”
“Any idea how he swallowed a shuttlecock?”
Donovan looked a little sheepish. “Though he’s got a bed of his own, Reggie prefers to sleep in the wife’s sports bag. Not sure why, but the wife reckons it’s because he likes the smell of leather. He’s always playing with her shoes, especially her heels. Oh, and her handbag. Gets wound around the strap like he’s carrying it.”
At the thought of a cross-dressing snake, Rex covered his laugh with a cough. Ah, it can only happen to a vet. Donovan following close behind, he took the box through to the quarantine area, where he removed and carefully placed Reggie into a large cage. As he shut the door, he swore he heard a hiss of contentment. Obviously Reggie was pleased to be anywhere but the box.
Turning to Donovan, Rex couldn’t fail to notice the worry etched on the man’s face. “Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of him. He’ll need an operation. Hopefully, I’ll be able to do it this afternoon, and if all goes well, he should be back at home, with you, sometime Monday. We’ll keep him in over the weekend.”
Donovan blew out a relieved breath, but then his expression turned skeptical. “Will the little lady be helping with the operation?”
“If she’s well enough, yes. As I said before, Mr. Donovan, Dr. Anderson is very professional.” And Rex meant it. With another dozen reassurances that Reggie would be fine, he sent Donovan on his way and then went to find Ramona.
He found her comfortably relaxed on the garden swing seat. Her eyes were closed, but they fluttered open when his shadow fell across her. For some reason, other than the fact she was off-limits and he couldn’t take what he wanted, Rex wondered whether she kissed with open or closed eyes. He knew what he preferred.
I wanna drown in your eyes and never come up for air. He shoved that thought right out of his mind as she moved aside and he sat beside her. “First snake?” he asked, stretching his legs out and allowing one arm to rest along the back of the seat, his fingers a mere millimeter from what he knew to be buttery-soft skin.
“Yep.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Ramona turned her face to Rex, her expression one of surprise at his admission. “And I don’t think it’ll be my last,” he added, laughing loudly. “Not if Reggie continues with his craving for feathered cocks.”
“Feathered cocks?” she asked, her voice sounding on the shaky side.
“Mr. Donovan’s wife plays badminton. Reggie swallowed one of her shuttlecocks. Not a fan myself. If I was asked to choose a racquet sport, I’d say tennis was the more entertaining. Watching, that is. If I ever played, I know I’d get my ass kicked. I wasn’t very sporty at high school. Preferred the library. You?”
“I enjoy running. I jog the five miles around Silver Creek Lake every morning.”
“Ah, is that where you disappeared to before the practice opened?”
Ramona nodded and gave a sly smile. “Matt, my younger brother, is always looking for an ass to kick on the tennis court, if you’re interested.”
“Is he any good? Tennis, I mean.” Rex could tell Ramona was keen to end their friendly chitchat and get back to the subject of Reggie the snake, but at least she answered his question, though why he wanted to know was lost on him. All he could think about was drowning in her striking green eyes while kissing her luscious mouth.
“Forgive the pun, but he’s an ‘ace.’ I’m sure if he hadn’t become a cop, he would have taken up tennis professionally. And speaking of professional… I want to thank you for earlier. Donovan, um, you could have made out I was useless in front of him, but you didn’t, and I—”
He held up a hand, interrupting her. “Don’t mention it. I meant what I said, Ramona. You’re a professional. And not wanting to handle a snake isn’t going to change my opinion.”
Ramona gave a self-depreciating smile. “Professional? Pathetic more like.”
“Perfect,” Rex amended. Then before he had the chance to register his cock was ruling his head, he ran the pad of his thumb over Ramona’s full bottom lip. The breath that feathered across his thumb was warm and slightly shaky. “So perfect.” He looked down at her shirt, particularly the buttons that he’d undone. A few more would not only give him a real eyeful but a handful of her plump breasts. Mmm, he’d never made love on a swing seat before…
“The perfect partner.”
For the second time that morning, Rex experienced a bucket of ice-cold water in his face. What the hell was the matter with him? Keeping his cock separate from his brain should have been easy. He was a grown man of thirty-two, not some randy pubescent teenager. Though what with the number of “stiffs” he’d experienced just that morning alone—four at the last count—he wouldn’t be at all surprised if he had slipped back to the time of spots, facial fuzz, squeaky voices and wet dreams.
With a muttered curse, Rex abruptly stood, an action that unfortunately rocked the seat so much Ramona landed at his feet with a startled gasp. He helped her up. Big mistake. Looking down upon her, not only did he have that eyeful, but the satin bra—in racy red, for fuck’s sake!—her plump breasts were cupped in. He’d rather his hands were doing the cupping.
The right hand strap slipped down. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care. The temptation to right it was strong. Rex balled his fists and stepped away for his own sanity as much as anything else. “Sorry. Er, about Reggie. He needs an operation. I can do it, but I need to do some research and phone a couple of my former colleagues to ask for their advice. The practice I worked at in Miami had a reptile center.”
“Anything I can do to help?” She moistened her lips with a quick flick of her tongue. “Like with the op?”
“No, it’s okay. It’ll be more of a help if you take my patients for this afternoon.”
She again licked her lips. “Sure, Rex, I can do that.”
And I’d like to do you. Right here. Right now. And if Ramona licked her lips one more time, Rex realized that thought would be put into action quicker than he could get a stiff. And since he was already halfway there—again!—that time would be now. Not trusting himself to speak, anything was liable to come out of his mouth—his tongue included—he n
odded his thanks and returned inside.
He had to concentrate. He had an operation to perform. And Rex was sure nothing would be more effective at separating his brain from his cock than the slip of a scalpel and the subsequent apology to Mr. Donovan for sending his pet to the great snake pit in the sky.
Chapter 4
At half past six, and with a forced cheery smile, Ramona waved off the last patient of the day. It was only after she’d locked and dead-bolted the door that she let rip with a loud curse of relief. Cecilia the Siamese cat was such a bitch, all claws and spit. No wonder her owner always brought her to the surgery for her quarterly worming tablets. She had suggested crushing the tablets and adding it to Cecilia’s food, but the cat was smart. Cecilia was sick, too, because she was known to pee in her food if served with something she didn’t like.
“Bitch,” Ramona again cursed and rubbed a tender hand over the scratches on her right forearm. Not surprisingly, on more than one occasion, she’d thought about introducing Cecilia to Reggie.
Hmm, Reggie. Mmm, Rex… Apart from when he’d been using the laptop in the office, searching the Internet, and making a few phone calls, she hadn’t seen Rex as he’d been holed up in the operating theatre all afternoon.
And she had to confess, she’d missed him, or rather, missed that smug smile. It would have come in real useful for Bud Watson when he’d popped in earlier for another round of “I’m-no-vet-but-I-know-more-than-you-do-about-treating-horses.”
Ramona wandered through to the quarantine area. In his cage, still under the effects of anesthetic, Reggie had a sterile dressing wrapped around his body, covering the area where Rex had operated. Hesitantly, she opened the door and reached out to touch him, when a voice behind her drawled, “Go on, be brave. He won’t bite.”
Snapping the door shut and hand held over her racing heart, she twirled around to face Rex. A stethoscope around his neck, he held a clipboard in one hand and a shuttlecock in the other. “You nearly gave me a coronary!” she accused. The hitching of Rex’s mouth into that familiar smug smile effectively curbed the temptation for mouth-to-mouth first aid. She gestured to the shuttlecock. “Operation a success?”
