Take Me Again

by Mackenzie McKade

  "Twelve stalls. We're not very large in comparison to the others here in town, but we're clean.” She could see pride in his serious eyes as well as the confident way he held himself. Head high, shoulders back, each step taken with determination behind it. He stroked his large hand down his handlebar mustache. Late forties, he wasn't a bad looking man, honed by hard work. One thing she knew without a doubt, he was a no-nonsense man.

  Every stainless steel rail was polished until it shined. The walkway was swept and probably mopped instead of sprayed because there was no standing water. Half of the stalls were occupied with horses happily munching on hay and oats. A sorrel with three white socks neighed. Another horse answered back clawing the ground.

  "Our stock is healthy and of acceptable lineage,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  She flashed him a genuine smile. “I can see that."

  Her Uncle Carl had called in a favor. Wood hadn't warmly welcomed her, but she would take what she could. Winning him over would be easy. Not because she had long legs and a voice that seemed to mesmerize men, but she was good at her job—damn good.

  "Easy girl.” The soft voice of a young man rose from a stall ten feet away.

  "My son, Travis Junior,” Wood announced. A gleam sparked, replacing his seriousness. That was, until the teenager stepped out of the stall. He wore no hat like his father's expensive Stetson and that wasn't the only difference. Where Wood Senior's clothes were clean and pressed, down to the front seam of his jeans, his son looked in disarray. Straw and dirt dotted his wrinkled shirt half tucked in and half out of his jeans. His boots were scuffed and there was weariness on his taut features that seemed to grow even tighter when his gaze met his father's.

  Wood Senior frowned. “What the hell—” He glanced sheepishly at Tracy. “Sorry ma'am.” His expression hardened as he turned back to his son. “What's going on here, boy? Looks like you slept in those clothes."

  Travis immediately started to brush off his jeans. “Uh ... I did.” He fidgeted, clearly looking for an answer. “I—I mean, yeah, I fell asleep out here last night."

  The look on Wood's face said he wasn't buying his son's lie, but he held his tongue. Instead he said, “Come meet our new vet."

  "Vet?” Travis's voice cracked as he stared at the stethoscope around her neck and the black bag she carried. He stole a quick glance toward the mare in the stall. The telltale sign that something was afoot caught Tracy's interest. The straw had been beaten down and the mare seemed lethargic. “What about Crane?"

  Ahhh ... The infamous Dolan Crane.

  Her young cousin had given her the scoop on the other vets in the area, including the one that made all the women in town lust after him. Laurie had sighed as she described the man's handsomeness and his reputation as a playboy.

  Tracy had almost swallowed her tongue when her cousin cupped a hand over her mouth and whispered, “Rumors are he likes ménages.” Flush faced, the girl had giggled while Tracy had felt a spark of interest, one she had extinguished immediately.

  She wasn't looking forward to meeting this playboy vet. He wouldn't be receptive to her encroaching on his territory, she was sure of that. The Woods had been his customers until now.

  "Tracy Marx,” Wood Senior introduced. “I'll deal with Crane."

  Travis jutted his hand out. “Pleasure to meet you, ma'am.” He shot another look toward the mare and then wiped his palms on his jeans.

  Not if your troubled expression means what I think it does. She didn't speak her mind but thought it better to check the mare as soon as possible. “The pleasure is mine."

  "Deal with me, how?” came a deep smooth voice from behind her.

  Color drained from Travis's face and Wood Senior's expression grew taut.

  She pivoted on the toe of her boot, almost toppling over when her breath caught.

  The dark stranger from last night stood approximately twenty feet away. Their eyes met. Sparks flew between them thickening the air so that the next breath was difficult to inhale. Her pulse leaped and warmth sizzled through her veins.

  For a moment, he appeared overtaken as well. That was until the sexy grin he wore faded. His brows furrowed as if he struggled to understand the situation. Then his gaze dropped to her chest.

  Now that was embarrassing. Heat flashed across her cheeks. She looked down to see if the buttons of her cotton shirt were open, but only saw the stethoscope hanging between her breasts. She glanced back up at him. That's when Tracy saw the stethoscope around his neck and the matching black bag in his hand.

  Oh shit! Every ounce of confidence fled from her body. Her mystery man was her competition.

  Dolan Crane.

  She swallowed hard. Fate must be having a fuckin’ good laugh at her. The first man who had ever made her body react with such unadulterated lust was the one she hoped to squeeze out of business.

  With determination in his step he marched up to her and extended his hand. “Dolan Crane."

  Their palms met. Electricity zinged through her. “Tracy Marx,” she mumbled, trying to retract her hand, but he held on.

  "What's going on here?” She knew his question was targeted toward Wood even though his dark eyes seem to burn a hole through her.

  "Had plans to call you today,” Wood said while his son flashed Crane a helpless look.

  Tracy jerked her hand in vain as his fingers tighten around hers. Controlled strength surrounded her like a glove.

  He stepped closer.

  If he was trying to intimidate her, it was working. It felt like an army of ants crawled across her flesh to raise goose bumps. She almost jumped out of her skin when his tone deepened. “What about?” There was a growl in his voice. Amazingly, she was aware of the heat of his body, the way his spicy cologne grew stronger as the fire in his eyes flamed brighter. His cock filled out the front of those jeans in a way that clouded her senses. The T-shirt stretched tight over strained muscles didn't help.

  "Miss Marx is a vet,” Travis's voice strained before his father could respond.

  "Kind of drew that assumption on my own.” He focused his full attention on Wood, while keeping her within his grasp. “Wood?"

  Travis Senior tore off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Well it's like this, Crane. Doc Zimmerman is due to retire soon—"

  "Yes."

  "You can't blame a man for looking out for his investments.” A hint of frustration rose in Wood's voice.

  "Any problem with my work? Any cause to look elsewhere?” Clearly Crane wasn't backing down without a fight.

  "My hand.” Tracy finally spoke up. Crane faced her once again. She raised a single brow. “Could I have my hand back? I need to get to work."

  His nostrils flared. He seemed to hold on to her longer before letting go just to show her that he was in control.

  Her heart lunged into her throat. Damned if she didn't find that sexy as well. Still she had to stand her ground. She wouldn't let Crane chase her out of California. This was her opportunity for a new start.

  "Look I know this is awkward, but we're professionals. It's the way things are.” Well, bravo to her for speaking up and not really saying anything of real value. She wiped her now sweaty palm on her jeans. “I mean this town is big enough for the two of us."

  Oh God. I can't believe I said that. Her words painted an image of a showdown in an old Western movie. By the simmering heat in his eyes he might just pull a six-gun and blow her away.

  He gave her one of those you've-got-to-be-kidding looks and then turned to the two men beside her. “Travis. Wood.” A nod followed the brisk run of his fingers along the brim of his hat. “Miss Marx.” Without another word he turned and walked away.

  Whoosh, she mentally brushed her brow. Dodged that bullet, but she still had to win over Wood who was frowning, which told her that Crane was a decent vet he hated to lose. Tracy knew she'd get past that issue. Of course, there was that other problem.

  The attraction she felt for one hot cowboy who despised he
r.

  Hey wait—

  Anger began to rise. It crawled up her neck stinging her ears. Crane had referred to her as Miss Marx—not Dr. Marx. Was it a faux pas or an intentional act of disrespect? Either way his lack of acknowledgement stung and it made her madder than hell.

  "So it begins,” she hissed beneath her breath.

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  Chapter Three

  Heavy footsteps carried Dolan to his truck. With more strength than required he swung the door open, tossed his bag on the seat and slammed the door after he got inside. Jaws clenched, he released the breath he hadn't known he held. In mere seconds he'd lost a customer and the chance with the woman of his dreams, or was it more like a nightmare?

  "Shit.” Ripping his hat off his head, he tossed it on the passenger seat.

  She was a goddamn vet. The sexy redhead was his competition.

  Didn't that beat all? That's all he needed, especially after yesterday's screwed-up day.

  Twisting the key he started the truck, holding on too long so that the ignition wound tight. “Fuck.” His palm slammed against the steering wheel. “A goddamn vet,” he repeated shaking his head. With one shove, he crammed the vehicle into gear and pressed the accelerator. Tires screeched. Gravel popped. He was out of there.

  As telephone poles blurred by him, his fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Well, buddy, good thing you didn't pick her up last night."

  How disastrous would that have been?

  The irony of the situation was almost laughable. He could imagine the morning-after talk between them when they discovered who the other was, or had she already known who he was? He sure as hell hadn't expected her presence in town.

  "Not the end of the world.” He tried to convince himself. He would win on his merits. There was no denying it. He was a good vet. Plus, he had already begun to establish himself with Doc Zimmerman and his customers.

  Dolan looked over the acres and acres of green pastures.

  On the other hand, the men he had dealt with in the racing arena were a horny bunch. Tracy Marx had looks, a killer body and that damn sexy voice.

  "I'm screwed,” he groaned, pulling off onto a side road heading for his cousin's ranch.

  Cattle grazed and a handful of horses was visible from the road as he pulled his truck to a stop before a big red barn. Cord leaned against a corral watching the pride of his ranch, Mystery Walker, prance along the fence line.

  His cousin had the Midas touch.

  After winning the two-year-old colt sired by Empire Maker, the 2003 Belmont winner, in a poker game, he went on to steal the heart of Caitlyn Culver who was now Mrs. Daily. The two of them had slipped away to Las Vegas and gotten hitched recently.

  Grabbing his bag, Dolan climbed out of the truck. The screen door of the house squeaked and his cousin's new bride emerged. The tall brunette with eyes the color of the California sky literally ran into her husband's waiting arms. Their happiness squeezed Dolan's chest. For some godforsaken reason the image of one redhead veterinarian filled his head.

  "Man, you've got shit for brains.” He shook the image from his head and headed over to the couple.

  "Dolan,” Cait screamed, releasing Cord to circle her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips against his cheek as he embraced her.

  Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, almost laughing. Instead of the familiar scent of perfume she smelled of bacon. He opened his eyes, burying his nose into her sweet smelling hair. “Mmmm ... You smell good enough to eat."

  Sweet laughter touched his ears as she gave him a playful shove. “I've cooked breakfast.” Pride laced her tone, as well as the ear-to-ear grin she wore announcing she was pleased with herself. The pampered princess had gone from being waited upon to cooking and cleaning house. It took a lot of work to keep up a cattle ranch.

  Cord took a step forward. “Remember that's my wife.” There was a smile on his face, but Dolan could see the unease in his gaze.

  "Haven't forgotten, cuz.” Dolan stepped out of Cait's arms, putting distance between them. “Just couldn't resist a little sugar in the morning,” he said jokingly, but the truth was he found a little comfort in her touch.

  Cord didn't have a thing to worry about, but that didn't stop him from taking possession of his wife. They were family. Besides Cait was madly in love with her husband and Dolan didn't pursue married women. No matter what others thought of him, he did have some scruples. He might push the envelope when it came to sex, but he respected another man's woman.

  Of course, if a couple invited him to play, who was he to turn them down? There was nothing like watching the ecstasy on a woman's face while two men drove her out of her mind.

  Truth was that sometimes a man got too caught up in his own pleasure to savor that of the woman. Personally, he lived to hear a woman's breathy cries, to see the softness of her face harden, her screams of rapture as she shattered in his arms, and then the quiet bliss that followed.

  That's what made a man a man.

  In fact, he prided himself on making sure each woman who left his bed was satisfied, but left wanting more of what he had to offer. Given the opportunity, he'd turn that sexy little veterinarian every which way but loose.

  "Dolan?” Cait pulled her brows together.

  He blinked realizing he must have zoned out. “Yes,” he answered to find both of them staring at him with concern. “Sorry. Lot's on my mind.” The heavy sigh he released didn't help.

  "You okay?” Cord's grip tightened on Cait. She cocked her head as confusion tugged on her brows, but she didn't resist his hold.

  Dolan jerked off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Lost a colt yesterday. To top it off there's a new vet in town."

  "Yikes. Sorry."

  He squared his hat on his head. “Thanks."

  "Breakfast?” Cait asked.

  "Little minx wants to show off her culinary abilities with bacon and eggs.” Cord kissed the tip of her nose.

  "Thanks, but no thanks. I've got a full schedule.” Besides he needed to stay one step ahead of the redhead nipping at his heels. “Cow in the barn?” From what Cord had told him earlier about the young cow it sounded as if she had mastitis, an inflammation of the udder.

  "Yeah,” Cord replied as they headed for the barn. “So what's this new vet like?"

  "Female,” Dolan said dryly.

  Cord pulled to halt before the opened double doors. His eyes widened. “The hell you say?"

  Dolan nodded. “Yep. Redhead."

  "Good looking?” Cait gave her husband a playful slap against the arm for the question as she entered.

  "Yep.” Dolan stepped inside. The scent of hay tickled his nose.

  "So when do we get to meet her?” Cait asked.

  Meet her? Dolan was confused. Why would they want to meet her? “Never."

  "Never?” Both Cait and Cord said in chorus.

  "Not my type,” he lied. Besides he needed to find some way to run the little redhead out of his city.

  Tracy's next stop was the Laski ranch. It was a quaint little place, ten acres with a small stable and Spanish manor. Uncle Carl had made a telephone call and Kevin Laski had agreed to speak with her.

  It was more like check her out. He had yet to take his eyes off her breasts. As they headed for the stables, he hesitated. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Without the slightest hint of decorum he caressed her ass with his slimy gaze.

  This sucks, she thought. If she were a man this would never happen.

  "Had some problems with this horse.” He pointed to a gelding a rider was brushing down after an obvious vigorous workout. Sweat blanketed the horse's coat. His nostrils flared as he breathed heavily. He clawed the ground nervously. “Think you can tell me what his issue is?"

  Oh goody—a test. She should have seen this one coming.

  Keeping a rein on her temper, she strolled up to the horse and set her bag on the ground. For a while she just watched the animal, noting his
rapid respiration by the way his flanks swayed in and out. The animal's nostrils were a brighter red than normal. Red lines at the side of the eyes were evident. Placing her fingertips against the horse's lower jaw, she gently pressed the facial artery to the inner surface of the jaw bone below the heavy cheek muscles. His pulse sped out of control.

  She glanced back at Laski only to find his gaze plastered on her jean-covered ass again. He didn't even have the good sense to appear embarrassed.

  "Without further testing and examination I believe your horse has EIPH.” She wiped her hands on a towel the rider handed her. “Thank you.” She returned the towel.

  "EIPH?” Laski feigned ignorance, but the gleam in his eyes gave him away. The rider hid a grin behind his hand. Add insult to injury, even the horse made a snickering sound.

  Okay. She'd play along.

  "Exercise-Induced Pulmonary Hemorrhage, commonly known as bleeding.” She couldn't believe he thought so little of a woman's ability. “Seventy—"

  He glanced over her shoulder and she turned to see what caught his attention as well as the rider's.

  Crap. Tracy's backbone stiffened. She barely held back a huff of exasperation. This couldn't be happening again.

  Heading straight for them was none other than Dolan Crane. He wore the same scowl she had seen on his handsome face earlier, only this time his footsteps pounded the sidewalk. He didn't even try to hide his displeasure.

  Forget him and focus. What had she been saying?

  "Uhhh...” Oh yeah. “Seventy to hundred percent of horses in racing and training experience EIPH, which you already knew,” she added just to let Laski know she was aware of his intentions.

  A bushy brow rose, and then he brushed her off as easily as dust off his sleeve. He turned to welcome his guest.

  God. She wanted to slap that shit-eating grin off the man's face as he shook Crane's hand. Then both of them narrowed their gazes on her.

  Stay cool. She inhaled a breath of confidence, determined not to let either man get the best of her.