A stray. He’d found a stray in the park.
And wasn’t that just an unfortunate coincidence?
Gauging his wary expression, Ava realized how inappropriate her reaction had been. She snapped out of deer-in-the-headlight mode, hoping she hadn’t given anything away.
“Of course. I’m sorry.” And cursed herself for the nervous laugh. “I just had a bit of an altercation with a demon masquerading as a housecat, and I’m afraid I forgot about your call.” Better he attribute her behavior to being a jumpy female with a faulty memory than a guilty female with a memory she’d rather forget. “But I recall now that you said you found a stray.”
With reclaimed poise she moved around the counter. “Is this the lucky guy?” She bent down, let the dog lick her hand, utterly relieved that it didn’t tremble.
“YEAH, this is Finn.” Whom Jordan eyed with envy. Now that the woman’s dark eyes weren’t swallowing her lovely face, he had a chance to appreciate the rest of the package. And a tidy little package it was. Delicate. Curvy. The exotic coloring that brought to mind warm breezes, hot blood, painted women in red dancing like living flames.
Licking her didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
“I’m Jordan,” he repeated as he offered his hand.
“AVA. Ava Martinez.” No point lying about that, she thought, when her name was printed in bold black letters on the front door.
With her mask of composure fully in place, she returned his handshake, gestured with the other. “Why don’t we head back toward one of the exam rooms and we’ll get Finn all checked out.” She would keep the small talk to a minimum, make short work of what needed to be done. And get this guy the hell out of there.
“I appreciate you seeing us on such short notice,” he said as he followed her down the narrow, vinyl-floored corridor that smelled of the bleach solution she’d used to clean. “I’ve had my eye on this guy for a few weeks now, waiting to see if he belonged to somebody. It doesn’t seem that anyone’s come around to claim him, and I couldn’t stand the idea of him ending up at the pound, or splattered by a car on the street. My mom suggested that I have him checked out right away, since he’s obviously been on his own for a while.”
“Sound advice,” Ava agreed. And damn if she didn’t feel a little tug in her belly because the guy was clearly a softie. It made her feel a strange mix of guilt and pleasure that she’d pulled the big fool out of the car. Stealing a quick glance at his cap, she wondered how his head was faring.
The guy – Jordan – noted the direction of her glance. “You’ll have to forgive me for not removing my hat indoors. I had a bit of an accident last week, and the cap reminds me not to scratch the stitches. I’m afraid I’m not an ideal patient.”
“Ah, well,” Ava managed, surprised she hadn’t swallowed her tongue. “Stitches can be uncomfortable.”
She opened the door to the small room, gesturing toward the metal table in the center. “Let’s get Finn settled up here.” As she went to one of the cabinets to pull out a pair of latex gloves, Jordan tugged the leash to urge his reluctant dog inside. “Remember our pep talk,” he murmured. “You just need to come in here and take it like a man.”
Ava smothered a smile as she snapped on the gloves.
When he’d hefted the fifty or so pounds of struggling canine into position, Ava tried to keep her mannerisms, her tone, even her thoughts strictly professional. She checked the dog’s ears and skin for signs of parasites, clucked over the condition of his coat, and nodded approval that his teeth seemed to be strong and healthy.
Jordan winced as she took a stool sample with ruthless efficiency.
She led Finn onto a scale, noted he was underweight for his size, and mentally calculated the amount of food he should be given, in decreasing amounts, until he’d rebounded. She readied the necessary shots, stroked and murmured to soothe the animal’s occasional tremors, and held onto her own nerves with rigid control. She managed to tamp down the little licks of panic by focusing all of her attention on the animal.
The animal’s owner she largely ignored.
JORDAN attempted small talk while Finn underwent his examination, but the pale, shaken woman he’d first seen had morphed into a cool-eyed professional. She answered all of his questions pertaining to Finn with straightforward, helpful answers.
And deflected personal inquiries like blows.
Curious and intrigued, Jordan pulled a few weapons out of his not inconsiderable arsenal. He was a reasonably attractive guy. Knew how to hold a decent conversation. And charm, like blue eyes, was just part of his DNA.
He was shot down like a lame duck.
“You’re lucky,” Ava commented as she rolled Finn over on his back to palpate her fingers along his belly. “This guy’s already been neutered.”
“Lucky and neutered are two words that should never be used together.”
Her hands stilled, and when her lips twitched, Jordan thought: aha!
But the moment was gone when she headed toward the trashcan, putting the better part of the room between them. “Well, other than the grooming, Finn’s good to go.” She pulled off her gloves, tossed them in. “My assistant usually handles that, but since she’s not here at the moment, I’ll take care of it myself.”
“So you’re here alone?”
“Not entirely alone. There are clients in and out, and of course One-Eyed Jack.”
“One-eyed… Oh, the cat out front. I guess that explains the eye-patch.”
“Mmm. Well, I’ll just take Finn to the grooming area and make him good as new. It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. If you’d like to wait out front –”
She wasn’t brushing him off that easy. “I’ll tag along. Just in case you need a hand.”
“I can assure you I’m perfectly capable of dealing with this by myself.”
“Then you can instruct me on the proper way to do it. I’m a dog grooming novice.” He wrapped his hand around Finn’s leash, laid the other on Ava’s shoulder.
IRRITATION began to edge out the panic Ava felt when she’d first seen him in her waiting room. Who did this guy think he was? She simply wasn’t used to being… maneuvered.
A few choice words, Ava thought as they headed down the hall, his hand burning into her shoulder. And she could have the presumptuous idiot back in his place.
But this was one man with whom she couldn’t afford to lose her temper. So in the interest of self-preservation, she thought it was best to hold her tongue.
When he deliberately brushed his knuckles across the nape of her neck before releasing Finn from his leash, she had to hold back that tongue with both hands.
The look she sent him could have cut glass, but he countered with a mild-mannered grin.
She guessed the dimples were supposed to be charming.
Too bad they damn well were.
Reigning in frustration, she selected a shampoo and clippers for Finn and then focused on the task at hand. Allowing Jordan Wellington to get to her was a very bad idea.
JORDAN watched the little bursts of irritation shoot out from her like angry darts. Had he actually thought this woman was delicate? Aroused and amused, he reconsidered his initial impression. It wasn’t like him to have been so off base. But her reaction in the waiting room had thrown him for a loop.
Maybe it was his imagination, but she’d seemed a good bit more than startled.
Of course, that may have had nothing to do with him. Perhaps, like she’d said, she was reeling from a run-in with a vicious cat.
But she certainly didn’t seem to be having any trouble handling Finn. Even when he bared his teeth and snarled a warning as she zoomed clippers over his matted fur. She simply looked him in the eye, laid a finger on his nose, and told him sternly to behave.
The kick-your-ass tone had vague visions of velvet handcuffs dancing in Jordan’s head.
Huh. The woman was a puzzle. He loved puzzles. It gave him a great deal of satisfaction to mess with all of the pieces unt
il they fit.
He had a feeling he’d get a great deal of satisfaction from messing with Ava Martinez.
“So, Doctor Martinez, is there a mister Doctor Martinez waiting for you at home?” He’d already checked out the ring finger, found it bare, but figured it best to test the water before he dove in.
AVA ignored the second little tug in her belly and kept her eyes on Finn’s coat. “No.” Don’t elaborate, don’t encourage. Don’t say another word.
“Any lovers, boyfriends, older brothers with strong protective instincts that need to be hurdled over or knocked out of the way?”
Dammit, dammit, she was not going to smile. Okay, dammit, yes she was. “There’s no need for any hurdling, Mr. Wellington. I have no interest in… track and field events.”
Jordan’s lips quirked. He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “Yeah, me neither. Baseball’s my sport. I never saw the appeal of jumping over obstacles when it’s so much more fun to just round all the bases and slide yourself into home.”
As far as sexual repartee went, Ava decided that it wasn’t half bad. And she decided that Jordan’s grin should be considered a lethal weapon. Top it off with those drop-dead eyes, a killer body, and just enough cocky charm to make him dangerous, and Ava figured she should be a corpse by now. Her blood began to hum under her skin.
All the more reason to get him the hell out of her clinic.
After the dog’s hair had been clipped free of mats, she lathered him up with a shampoo designed to kill the adult fleas which had infested him, and explained that Jordan would have to give Finn a monthly pill to keep any of their larvae from hatching. She scrubbed, rinsed, and turned on a massive blow dryer which made the dogs jowls fly back as if he were riding with his face stuck out the window of a car.
She finished him off by tying a red bandana around his neck. Jordan’s dimples flashed as he bent down and let Finn lick his face. “Look at you, big guy. All duded up and totally unavailable to the ladies. Well, we’ll just let them ogle your fine self and weep.” He stuck his nose in Finn’s neck. “Man, you even smell good.” He looked up at Ava as he scrubbed his hand between the dog’s ears. “Thanks, Doc. He looks great. So what do I owe you?”
“Come on up front and we’ll get settled.”
After Ava loaded him down with heartworm preventative, flea medication, dog food, grooming supplies and a plaid bed with little appliqué bones, she helped him pile it all into his car and sent him on his way.
Then, locking the front door behind her, sank bonelessly into her chair. Thank God he hadn’t recognized her. Thank God the goon in the parking lot hadn’t recognized him.
That possibility had given her a few bad moments. But maybe the goons who were stalking her weren’t the same ones who’d kidnapped him. Or maybe they were just stupid. Or maybe… she stopped herself before she drove herself crazy.
But really, of all the vets in the city, what were the chances he’d walk in her door? And the hell of it was, after the flood of relief washed through her that she’d managed to shoo him out without a proposition or an altercation, it left her with a residue of disappointment.
She wondered why Jordan Wellington hadn’t asked her out.
Deciding that her rush of nerves must have killed off a few brain cells, Ava pushed out of the chair and went to unlock the front door. Who cared why he hadn’t, when she should simply celebrate the fact that he was gone.
The crisis had been averted and her secret remained intact.
CHAPTER SEVENIT was nearly twilight by the time Ava got home. The jolt of finding the man whose life she’d saved standing in her reception area, coupled with a busy afternoon, left her feeling abnormally drained and edgy.
Not to mention the fact that she was sick and tired of having her uncle’s men follow her around. She hated the fact that she had no choice but to play his little game. Move, countermove. Maneuver and feint. They forever circled one another, wary and distrustful, unwilling or unable to take that final step which would take the other down. They shared blood, and they shared her father.
And if not, she was certain that they would have gone after each other like hungry wolves.
Ava pulled her Mustang into the drive beside the carriage house, raising the top as she freed One-eyed Jack from his carrier. She looked at the little home she’d made for herself. The sturdy, painted brick dripping with whimsical gingerbread lace. Solid, yet feminine. Not, Ava thought as she looked toward the enormous Victorian in whose shadow she sat, unlike her landlord.
Calhoun House stretched toward the treetops like a pretty woman, all graceful curves and ornate trimmings. Narrow windows winked like heavy-lidded eyes in the remnants of early evening sun. The bold yellow paint had worn a bit, softening as it aged. Wisteria clung like a colorful accessory, and the bright punch of rioting azaleas suggested that she might be old, but she wasn’t tame. Underneath all the ornamentation, the house was sturdy to the core.
It fitted its owner perfectly.
Lou Ellen Calhoun was gracious as a Sunday luncheon, solid as stone, and in the manner of any southerner worthy of the confederate flag, crazy as a loon.
Ava absolutely adored her.
As the feeling was mutual, Lou Ellen rented Ava the charming apartment over her detached garage for a song.
Well, for a song, and as many home cooked meals as Lou Ellen could squeeze out of her.
Ava’s spirits lifted the minute she saw the older woman on one of the twin gazebos of the front porch. Paintbrush in one hand, a mimosa in the other, and what was certain to be a godawful creation on the easel behind which she stood.
“Is it happy hour yet?”
“Honey, around here, every hour’s happy.” She handed Ava the drink she’d just poured into vintage green Depression glass. Oblivious to the paint on her fingers, she ran them through her short cap of dark hair. “Sit.”
Ava obliged her by sinking into a garishly cushioned wicker chair. Of course, the fabric was tame compared to what Ava’d glimpsed on the latest unfortunate canvas. But she knew better than to comment, or it would end up adorning her wall.
Recognizing the mood, Lou Ellen leaned against the rail. “Looks to me like you had yourself an unpleasant day.”
Ava drank deeply. Other than Katie, Lou Ellen was the only person she trusted to unload on. She’d told them each different bits and pieces, so that neither of them ever had the full story. That kind of knowledge could be a burden. God knew it was a burden to her.
But Lou Ellen had seen the blood on Ava’s car seat.
“The man I pulled out of that trunk last week came into the clinic today.”
“Well.” Lou Ellen tossed back her own drink, refilled both their glasses. “Bet that made for an interesting conversation.”
Ava managed a withering stare across the rim of her glass. “As luck would have it, he wasn’t there to accuse, harangue or persecute me. Turns out he found a stray dog at the park. A friend of his mother’s recommended me. Please,” Ava said, while the sound of the other woman’s laughter rolled over her. “Feel free to enjoy yourself at my expense.”
“Darling, you have to admit, there’s a great deal of irony at work here.”
“The friend of his mother’s is Joyce Phillips.”
“Ugh.” Lou Ellen’s amusement fled. “Detestable woman. What sane person matches her pets to her hair?”
Ava couldn’t help but laugh. “Surely you’re not still holding a grudge because she stole your high school sweetheart.”
“Have you seen Bucky Phillips lately? Looks like a potbellied stove with hair. Being married to that is punishment enough. But that’s neither here nor there. What are you going to do about trunk boy?”
Trunk boy, Ava thought as the champagne fizzed in her throat, who in no way resembled anything potbellied. “I believe I’ve done enough.” The breeze picked up, sliding the sweetness of confederate jasmine through the air, but it turned Ava’s stomach sour. “I s
aved his life and took care of his dog. No harm, no foul. Everybody’s happy.”
“Funny. You don’t look happy.”
“He flirted with me.” Ava frowned into her glass. “And he’s pretty good at it.”
“Oh.” Lou Ellen tucked her tongue into her cheek. “What tangled webs we weave.”
“Not so amusing, seeing as my uncle’s doing the weaving. I’m just the damn fly caught in the web.”
“I’m not laughing at you, darling.” Lou Ellen stroked Ava’s hand, and the clatter of her bracelets was somehow soothing. “I’m simply appreciating the whims of fate. If I’m not mistaken, and I rarely am, you’re attracted to this young man.”
Ava pictured the wink of dimples against stubbled cheeks. “I could eat him up in one greedy bite. Well, make that two. He’s awfully big.”
“And it sounds like this big, delicious man is attracted to you, as well. How… ironic is it that you were in the wrong place, at the right time, to save his life?”
“Exactly what are you getting at, Lou Ellen?”
“Destiny.” Her green eyes sparkled bright as her glass. “What if he’s yours?”
“You’ve been hitting the mimosas too hard. Seeing him again is completely out of the question.”
“So says you, my doubting Thomas.” Lou Ellen’s penciled eyebrows wiggled. “That cool scientific brain makes you cynical.”
“I’m not cynical, Lou Ellen. I’m realistic.” As Ava could feel a headache coming on, she decided to leave the remainder of her mimosa and moved to rise. “And anyway, the point’s moot because he didn’t ask me out. Now unfortunately, I have a sink full of dirty dishes and some paperwork that can’t be ignored. I appreciate the drinks. I’ll make you Easter dinner tomorrow night.”
Ava unlocked her front door, One-eyed Jack streaking past her legs to sulk near his empty food bowl.
Sighing, she dropped her purse on the bench of the hall tree that served as her catch-all, and followed him toward the kitchen. The orange and green checkerboard tiles never ceased to come as a shock. Lou Ellen was color blind as the day was long. It amazed Ava that her friend had found someone able to install it all without suffering some sort of breakdown.
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