Foxfire

by Carol Ann Erhardt

  “She's my best friend.”

  Tyler rested a hand on Grace's shoulder and squeezed gently. “She's lucky.”

  A tingle ran down her arm. So much for hoping she could remain distant from this man. He turned her on.

  Tiffany put her nose to the crack at the bottom of a closed door and whined. A paw snuck under the door and tapped against Tiffany's nose.

  “How's Tiffany with cats?” he asked.

  “Cats?” Grace didn't have much experience with felines, but she supposed she'd have to get used to them if she worked here.

  Tyler nodded at the furry paw stretched beneath the door. “That's Muffin. She walked in about a week ago and made herself at home. I advertised, but no one's claimed her yet.”

  He opened the door and a fat, fluffy, amber-striped cat pranced in, head held high, tail straight in the air. A little crook at the end resembled a fishhook. Muffin rubbed between Tiffany's front legs, weaving a figure eight.

  The dog scrambled backwards.

  Muffin appeared bored and jumped to the examination table. She began to groom away the dog germs.

  Grace ran her hand down the cat's back, marveling at the silky thickness. Muffin stopped, tongue poking out, one paw raised. She stared deeply into Grace's eyes for a moment and then returned to the task of grooming. It left Grace with a strange feeling. Almost as if the cat could read her mind.

  Tiffany leaned heavily against Grace's legs, begging for attention.

  “Are you jealous?” Grace asked. She rubbed the dog's ears and looked at Tyler. “I'm surprised she's being so calm. She loves to chase animals outside.”

  “Ah, but Muffin isn't an animal. She's a queen reborn. Can't you tell?”

  Muffin leaped to the counter, then to the top of the supply cabinets. She gazed down at them, then curled into a ball and tucked her golden eyes behind one paw.

  “See what I mean? She acts like she owns the place.”

  “Wonder where she came from?”

  Tyler shrugged. “Beats me.”

  Grace looked through the open door at the cages lined against the wall in the room behind them.

  “Come on.” Tyler led them into the large area. “This is the boarding room. Not for sick animals, but for those whose families are out of town for a few days. Of course, the cages are just to keep them safe at night. There's an open fenced area behind the house where they can run and play during the day.”

  “So you plan on boarding animals, too?”

  “Absolutely. If you can't trust your vet, who can you trust?” He winked boldly. “Come on, I'll show you my apartment.”

  Her mind screamed danger, but her legs carried her up the stairs behind him. The warmth of Tyler's apartment surprised and pleased Grace. He'd taken care to make the rooms a home, not just a place to sleep. She'd expected buttery soft leather furniture, not the deep blue sofa with throw pillows piled high. Pictures of mountain scenery graced the newly painted ivory walls.

  He opened the door to his bedroom, where she spied a hand-stitched quilt in shades of green covering the massive wooden bed. She could imagine falling into the softness of the mattress with him beside her. She felt her face flame when his glance caught hers.

  “Like it?” he asked.

  She backed out of the door and into the living room. “It's...nice,” she squeaked out. She cleared her throat. “We'd better get back and check on Tiffany. That cat might decide to have her for lunch.”

  Tyler's expression told her he wasn't fooled. He knew what she'd been thinking.

  He finished the tour by showing her the converted garage that had been turned into a care unit, complete with a sick bay area and two incubator-type units on wheels. They ended back in the reception area.

  “And this,” Tyler pointed at a computer, “is the piece of junk that's driving me insane.” He scratched his head. “I've been trying to get the billing set up for two blasted days. The program said it was user-friendly, but I don't think it likes me.” He shook his head. “I'm writing patient bills on pieces of notebook paper.”

  “Maybe I can help. I know a little about software programs. Do you want me to try?”

  “If you can get the damn billing program to work, you'll earn the biggest and juiciest steak money can buy.”

  “You're on.” She sat in front of the computer and began to tap the keyboard. She felt his gaze fastened on her, but she managed to ignore the urge to turn and look at him. Finally, he left her alone. She studied the instruction booklet and soon lost herself in the work.

  She had the program functioning when the doorbell jangled. She spared a quick glance as Tyler came from the back room and greeted a woman with a pet carrier. He led her to the examination room. The door shut behind them and their voices faded.

  Grace looked through the appointment book and entered the names of the clients he'd penciled in. She tested the program by printing a bogus bill and shot her fist in the air when it worked. She loved the feeling of success.

  A few minutes later, the elderly woman came out. She placed a carrier on the counter. Inside was one of the biggest cats Grace had ever seen.

  “Tinkerbell's good for another year, Mrs. Engleworth.” Tyler handed Grace a folder.

  Grace snatched it, trying to hide her smile. Tinkerbell?

  “How much do I owe you, Tyler?” Mrs. Engleworth fluttered her eyelashes in a shameless display that brought Grace one step closer to dissolving in laughter. The woman was older than Brad, for crying out loud.

  Tyler, however, winked at the woman and then grinned at Grace. “Seventeen for the booster shots and twenty for the exam.”

  “Got it,” Grace said. She printed out an invoice and handed it to Mrs. Engleworth.

  Tyler's eyes widened with appreciative surprise, and Grace suppressed a grin.

  The woman wrote out a check while the mean looking tomcat, so inappropriately named, glared at Grace with feral green eyes. Its tiger-striped fur dusted the air as it swung its tail, flicking the sides of the cage.

  Tiffany pushed to her feet, stretched and grunted, then trotted over and lifted her nose toward the carrier.

  A long paw extended through the bars, baring long needle-sharp claws. The cat hissed.

  “No, Tiff,” Grace admonished. The dog gave a sorrowful look and went back to her spot on the floor. Muffin jumped onto the counter and the two cats began a slapping match.

  “Sorry,” Grace said. She lifted Muffin and placed her on the floor.

  Tyler winked, then walked Mrs. Engleworth to the door. “Thanks for bringing Tinkerbell in.” He opened the door.

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “You're welcome. So long, Tinkerbell.” He closed the door and turned a beaming smile on Grace. “You're hired.”

  “What about the steak?” she teased.

  “You earned it, and I always keep my promises. I'm also offering you a job as my office manager, slash receptionist, slash billing clerk. The pay's not great, but the boss is a great guy.”

  “Not so fast. What are you willing to pay?”

  His grin stretched his cheeks. “We can work it out. If you don't like the salary, maybe we can work out some additional benefits.”

  “Only if you're talking about health insurance,” Grace countered. She knew he was flirting with her, and it felt good, like she was a normal person with no dark secrets.

  He laughed. “Grace, it's going to be a lot of fun working with you.”

  “Salary?” she prompted.

  “How about twelve dollars an hour to start with a raise when business picks up.”

  “Deal.” She held out her hand. “When do I get the steak?”

  Tyler sandwiched her hand between his, sending warm currents up her arm and into her stomach. “Tonight. I'll pick you up at six. And dress casual.” He gave a lop-sided grin.

  Muffin pranced into the room and leaped gracefully into the chair Grace had vacated.

  They laughed when Tiffany, who’d been lying on the floor, scrambled
to get out of her way.

  Grace left the clinic floating on a cloud of euphoria, but it took a nosedive when she noticed the car in her driveway. The dark blue Jaguar looked out of place and so did the angry face of the man behind the wheel.

  Connor.

  Chapter Five

  “We need to talk, Grace.” Connor slammed the door on the Jaguar and walked toward her.

  Tiffany growled and the hair bristled on her neck.

  He stopped. “Keep the dog away from me.”

  “You're trespassing. She's protecting me.”

  Connor threw up his hands. “Protecting you? God, Grace, I'd never hurt you. You know that.”

  He took another step in her direction, and Grace grabbed Tiffany's collar. “You'd better stay back, Connor. She's trained to attack and I'm not sure I can control her.”

  Connor's face blanched. He glanced uneasily at the growling dog. “Look, can we go inside and talk for a few minutes?”

  “No. Say whatever you came to say. Then leave.”

  Connor's eyes narrowed. A muscle jumped along his jaw. Finally, he relaxed his stance and backed toward the car. He leaned against the door, his feet crossed at the ankles. His lustful gaze swept her from head to toe.

  Why had she thought she could marry this egotistical clod? She knew he'd never loved her. And, God help her, at one time she'd been willing to settle. She'd wanted the dream more than anything.

  “You're as beautiful as ever, Grace. I miss you.”

  “Too little, too late.”

  “Admit it, honey. You miss me, too. We had a good thing going. It doesn't have to end, you know. I have a proposition.” He waved his hand in the direction of the cabin. “We don't have to part ways completely. We can meet here where no one will see us. What do you say?”

  Grace gritted her teeth to keep her tongue from spitting out every curse word she'd ever learned. Connor seemed to take her silence as a positive sign.

  “I'll make it worth your while.”

  That did it. “You know what, Connor? You can take your sleazy proposal elsewhere. I'm not interested in anything you have to offer.”

  “Given your past, you should be glad I'm still interested.”

  She wanted to drive her fist into his sneering face. Tiffany tugged, straining to break free. Connor smiled his toothy lawyer smile and Grace was tempted to let go. She took a step toward him with a smile pasted on her face.

  Connor straightened and held out his arms.

  Good grief, he actually expected her to throw herself into his embrace. “I'm not for sale, Connor. You've got to the count of three to get in your car and leave. Otherwise, I turn my dog loose.”

  Tiffany lunged, and Grace's arm jerked. “Good girl,” she said.

  “You never used to be so particular.”

  Fury ignited her. “You know nothing. Your mind is a cesspool. One.”

  “All right. I'm going.” Red anger suffused his face. Connor wasn't a graceful loser, neither in nor out of the courtroom. “But you better think over the offer. I doubt you'll find another as generous.”

  “Two.”

  “And don't talk to the press. About anything! Your little fiasco at the police station shows just how off-balance you are. I think the media will sympathize with me when I tell them how devastated I was to learn you're a drug addict.”

  “Tell them anything you want. Your threats can't hurt me.”

  He sneered. “You don't know how powerful I am.”

  “Three.” Grace released her hold on Tiffany's collar.

  If she hadn't been so angry, she'd have laughed at Connor's scrambling slide into the sports car. He bumped his head against the roof. Tiffany reached the car just as the door slammed shut. She jumped, paws clicking loudly against the window. Then she dropped, clawing the rich paint as she slid to the ground.

  Connor revved the engine and rolled down the window.

  “I’ll make you pay for that,” he yelled.

  With a growl Tiffany lunged, and the window quickly closed. The dog trotted back to Grace, tail wagging proudly.

  Grace looked with satisfaction at the deep scratches in the Jaguar's perfect paint job. Tires spun in the gravel. Connor turned the car around and sped away.

  When his car was out of sight, Grace laughed. She felt victorious.

  Tiffany sped off into the woods, turned and ran back.

  Grace grabbed the dog's face and leaned down to stare into Tiffany's eyes. “Good girl. That deserves a treat.”

  Walking to the house, she fought the desire to look over her shoulder. The hairs prickled on the back of her neck, making her feel certain someone was watching her. Spider legs crawled her spine, until she could stand it no longer. She spun around.

  Adam stood on the path, a solitary figure between two overshadowing pine trees. Only the grim set of his lips were visible beneath the lowered ball cap. The air changed as if a huge cloud hovered above. She forced a smile.

  “Hi, Adam.”

  “If that man gives you any more trouble, you just let me know.”

  She stared at his shadowed face. “Thanks.”

  “We take care of our own around here.” His lips turned up in a brief smile before he trudged up the hill toward his house.

  Grace mounted the steps and came to an abrupt halt.

  A single red rose lay on the welcome mat.

  She stared at the perfect red bud, round and plump and clinging to the end of a green thorny stem. It looked out of place on the rough weave of the mat. She turned to look for Adam but he was already out of sight.

  Grace picked up the flower and carried it inside and filled a glass with water. She put the lonely bloom into its depth. Adam must have left the rose. It was too much of a coincidence that he'd been present for the scene with Connor. Poor Adam. He must have waited for her to return and find his gift. She sensed his loneliness and could even empathize. Maybe she should have dinner with him. She'd have to make him understand they could only be friends, though. He was much too old for her, nearly old enough to be her father, and he certainly didn't seem the romantic type.

  If Tyler gave her a rose, it would be romantic, but coming from Adam it just seemed sad.

  Grace sighed. She wanted a man who'd take control in a wild, wonderful way. Someone who'd make her knees knock, and fireworks explode when they kissed. She wanted a strong man, one who was sure of himself, one not afraid to admit his love. She wanted a man like the ones in her romance novels, one with a broad chest, muscled arms, and a to-die-for wicked smile. She wanted a man who'd protect her, yet respect her strength, and not hold her past against her.

  Reluctantly, she acknowledged that Tyler looked the part. Broad shoulders, gorgeous green eyes, even if they might not be real. But she wouldn't let him get under her skin. Not even if he could model for the cover of one of the romance novels she loved.

  No way would she settle again. She'd rather live the rest of her life single. She'd made a home here in Foxfire with Brad, Harri, and Tiffany. Her family.

  She didn't need a man. Grace reached for her key ring. She would rid herself of any further contact with Connor. With a muttered curse, she left the house and started her car. She'd hand off the key and be finished with him forever.

  Twenty minutes later, she entered his office. Sarah, the receptionist, gaped open-mouthed at her. “Grace. I thought…” She paused.

  Grace knew Sarah had the hots for Connor. She'd be making a play for him soon, if she hadn't already. As far as Grace was concerned, she was welcome to him.

  “Don't panic, I'm not coming back to work.” Grace handed her the key. “Just give this to Connor.”

  Sarah accepted it, a frown line appearing between her brows.

  “And tell him where I go and who I talk to is none of his business anymore.”

  Grace pushed through the door. She rounded the corner and plowed into a man's hard chest. His hands closed around her arms, steadying her.

  “Whoa,” he said.

 
; “I'm sorry.” She pulled free and met his gaze. A prickle of unease skittered up her spine when she stared into his deep-set sable eyes. The skin pulled taught on his angular face giving it the look of an actor who'd had too many face-lifts. The suit he wore looked expensive. Grace felt a prickle of unfounded fear. Where had she seen this guy before? Something about his voice and his eyes seemed vaguely familiar.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, pulling free from his grasp.

  His lips turned upward in a friendly gesture, though his eyes remained cold and hard.

  It took every ounce of guts she had to step around him and push the elevator button. The doors opened and she stepped inside. Only after she pressed the lobby button did she risk a glance between the closing doors. The man gave a slow wink. Sweat beaded her forehead. She stepped aside, breathing deeply of the suddenly stagnant air. Relief coursed through her when the elevator began its descent.

  ****

  Grace was sitting on the porch enjoying the view when Tyler walked into the clearing. His polo shirt hugged his broad shoulders, the deep green enhancing those emerald sparks in his eyes. Much to her surprise, he wore the dirty tennis shoes he'd had on the first night she met him.

  He followed her gaze down to his feet, then gave her a big grin. “Hey, they're comfortable and perfect for hiking.”

  “Hiking? Why didn't you drive?”

  “Drive?” He looked puzzled, and then suddenly his face lit with understanding. “I should have made myself clear. I'm cooking steaks on the grill.” He shrugged. “I bought the biggest rib-eyes I could find. And my homemade marinade can't be beat.”

  Oh, Lord. Trouble. Having dinner in a restaurant was one thing, but how would she manage an entire evening alone with him? “Oh.”

  He laughed. “Don't sound so skeptical. I promise not to poison you.”

  There went that wicked smile sending fireflies swarming through her stomach. Tyler gripped her hand and pulled her to her feet. They walked toward the clinic. “Things are different here, but I like the slow pace of living,” he said.

  Grace smiled up at him. “That's why I moved here. I wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city.”

  “What city?”