Sheryl turned on a surprised Doc Murdock and smiled. “Do you really want to help out around here?” she asked.
His eyes went wide. “I’d love to.”
“I have an errand to run this afternoon. Want to watch things for a while? Cory will be here as soon as school is out.”
“Sure.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but the light in his eyes and the wrinkling of the crow’s-feet at the corners of those eyes, told another story altogether. He’d just been retired a few months so his license was still good. Maybe helping her on occasion would keep him from entertaining thoughts of getting back into the business.
Besides, Donovan and her lessons were waiting.
Sheryl walked home, leaving a very happy Doc Murdock in charge of the clinic. It was one of the things she loved about Wyatt; she could walk anywhere. Her clinic was two blocks from downtown. Her house was another three blocks from the clinic. There was a small section of shops downtown that offered just about everything she needed for her everyday life. A small grocery store, drugstore, dry cleaner, ice cream shop. Yes, she did occasionally miss browsing through a really good department store, but she was less than an hour and a half from a decent mall, and a day trip wasn’t out of the question. She had a pickup, for the occasional trip to a neighboring farm or that mall, but on a day-to-day basis she walked just about everywhere, and that truck stayed parked in the separate garage in her spacious backyard.
She and Laverne were home in a matter of minutes. Donovan’s truck, which was much finer than hers, was parked at the curb, and the sight gave her an unexpected thrill. He was here. Her heart skipped a beat—or danced or did something equally bad.
The neighbors were probably talking already. Debbie must be having fits, wondering who belonged to that truck. It had been there last night. All night. It was back again, and Sheryl was home from work earlier than usual. She could practically feel the curious eyes on her as she walked to the front door, but she didn’t actually see anyone.
She never came home early, and all her neighbors, especially the nosy ones, knew it.
None of the animals met her at the door. She wasn’t surprised, not even when Laverne broke away and ran for the hallway. The gray cat was headed, no doubt, for the attic stairs.
Sheryl didn’t fly, but she didn’t waste any time, either. She found Donovan sitting on the attic floor with an open box in front of him. The stack of interesting papers had grown some, but not much. Three cats and three dogs had formed a rough circle around him, all of the animals relaxed but alert. Oddly enough, they looked as if they belonged together, Donovan and his dog and her animals.
Was there room for her in that circle?
“Kiss my ass.”
Sheryl’s head jerked around. Her parrot had found himself a new home on her grandmother’s rocking chair. “What’s Bruce doing up here?”
The bird was out of his cage, perched well away from the others and yet somehow a part of the crowd.
Donovan lifted his head and looked at Sheryl. “He was making so much racket downstairs, I decided to bring him up here. I hope you don’t mind.”
“If you can stand him, he’s all yours.”
“Bite me,” Bruce responded.
Donovan turned his gaze to the bird. “That’s not nice,” he said slowly and distinctly. “Apologize.”
Sheryl started to laugh. Bruce apologize? She’d been trying for months to get the parrot to say something, anything, that wasn’t an insult.
“Sorry,” Bruce squawked. The big bird ruffled his feathers as if the curt apology had been physically painful.
“How did you…” Sheryl didn’t even bother to finish asking the question.
And Donovan didn’t offer any explanations. He glanced at his watch. “You’re earlier than I expected.”
“You don’t have to sound so disappointed.”
That dark head snapped up. He needed a shave. The stubble on his cheeks was thick and dark, and while it should’ve made him look unkempt and less than gorgeous, it didn’t. The roughness suited him.
“I didn’t mean…” he began.
“I was just kidding,” Sheryl said with a smile. Donovan was so relentlessly serious, so intense. “Had any luck today?”
“No. I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed your computer.” Donovan returned his gaze to the papers in his lap. “There are a couple of names that keep popping up. Agnes Payne and Oliver Grimble. Do either of those names mean anything to you?”
Sheryl shook her head. “Sorry. Did you find anything interesting online?”
She knew by the expression on his face that he had not. “No. You’d think there would be something. A genealogy site, or a tidbit in a newspaper. It’s almost disturbing that there wasn’t anything at all.”
“You know what they say. The Internet is a million miles wide and a quarter of an inch deep. Just because you didn’t come up with anything, that doesn’t mean the information isn’t out there somewhere.”
“Somewhere,” he repeated softly.
“You need to get out of my attic,” Sheryl said with a grin. “I’m ready for my lesson.”
He hesitated, but not for long. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
“Faith Winston.” Faith juggled the phone and the baby, while two-year-old Daniel and almost-four Abby entertained themselves with coloring books and a big box of colors.
“Dr. Winston, this is Agent Tom Phillips with the NSA.” The voice was crisp and businesslike and unfamiliar. “We’ve just intercepted an Internet search for Agnes Payne and Oliver Grimble. You’re at the top of my list of those to alert in such a circumstance.”
Faith, who had been spending the day at home immersed in the simple chore of taking care of her children, held her baby a little bit closer. If she never heard those names again, she’d be perfectly happy. Still, considering the developments of the past few months she shouldn’t be surprised that someone was digging into the past.
“Where did the search originate?”
“In Wyatt, North Carolina, on the computer of a Dr. Sheryl Eldanis.”
Chapter 5
Before they began, Hawk spent a few minutes talking to the mare. Walking with her in a circle around the corral, stroking her neck, whispering, connecting in that way he would never be able to explain, let alone teach. When he was certain she was calm and wouldn’t mind being ridden, he saddled her. He didn’t stop talking but kept his voice low. Even Sheryl, who sat atop the fence while she watched and waited, wouldn’t be able to hear him.
They were alone at the moment. Dermot was still curious about Hawk’s methods, but he and his kids were all busy with other chores. Just as well. Hawk always worked best alone. People made him nervous, especially when they watched so intently and asked endless questions. They messed with his concentration, and concentration was often crucial to his job. His calling.
When he helped Sheryl into the dun mare’s saddle as he had last night, Hawk noted once again that her body was tight and solid, an unexpected contrast to her cute face. Cute women should be soft and girlie, not hard. The clothes she wore disguised the fact that she had a killer body. Did she hide her strength on purpose?
Of course she did. Sheryl disguised her strength the same way Hawk hid what he could do. Most people underestimated cute women.
He would do well to remember that underestimating anyone was a bad idea.
She expected a lesson, and he was going to give her one. “Just like people, horses respond much better if you ask them to help you instead of ordering them to obey. Particularly if that order is delivered with a whip in one hand.”
“But horses aren’t smart enough to understand what you’re asking of them,” Sheryl said, looking down at him from her perch on the mare’s saddle. “Are they?”
“As with people, some horses are smarter than others,” he explained.
“And Matilda?”
The horse began to walk, each step smooth and without the panic she’d felt just yesterda
y. “Matilda?”
“That’s her name.” Sheryl didn’t look at him now, but kept her eyes on the animal who bore her. Even though she trusted Hawk enough to sit in that saddle, she hadn’t forgotten that this was the animal who’d broken Mort’s arm. “I called Mort this morning to see how he and the mare were doing, and he called her Matilda. So, is Matilda one of the smart ones?”
“Yes, she is.”
“You’re just saying that because she obviously likes you.” It took Hawk a moment to realize that Sheryl was teasing him. It was the smile that tipped him off. No one teased him. Ever. Except Cassie, of course, who occasionally tormented him in a sisterly way. He didn’t know how to respond to such lighthearted jesting, so he didn’t respond at all.
Comfortable with the horse, moving along smoothly, Sheryl turned her gaze to him again. “All animals seem to like you. Even that crotchety parrot of mine. I didn’t think Bruce was capable of warming up to anyone, much less learning to apologize. Think you can teach him to lay off the bad language so I can find him a good home?”
“Maybe,” he said grudgingly.
He had come here on a mission, and he should be anxious to get back to the files. But in spite of the fact that he shouldn’t be here, Hawk liked this moment. He liked the sound of Sheryl’s voice and the way the light breeze ruffled the soft strands of her hair. He liked the fact that she was so obviously comfortable in his presence. The three of them—he, the mare, Sheryl—had formed an odd kind of triangle. Other people never came between him and an animal, but this… It was curious.
It was nice.
“I’ve never seen anyone who drew animals to them the way you do,” Sheryl said. “What’s your secret?” She grinned. “The way my dogs took to you, I’m beginning to think ‘bacon under the pants’ isn’t such an outrageous suggestion.”
He didn’t respond.
“So, is that your secret?” she continued. “Pork?”
He explained his ability away the way he always had. “I grew up around animals. They know I like them—that’s why they’re comfortable with me. It’s that simple.”
She rode awhile longer, moving in a circle around the corral while he stood in the center and watched. “So,” she finally said, “are you one of those people who likes animals better than people?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
Instead of being insulted, she smiled again. “Me, too. What does that say about us, Donovan?” It wasn’t a question that required an answer, rather a statement on the fact that they were both somehow different.
She had no idea how different he was, and if he had his way she never would. The moment was comfortable. One day he’d remember his trip to Wyatt with the kind of fondness he never, ever experienced. The last thing he wanted was for Sheryl to look at him as if he was a freak.
He liked the way she was looking at him now, as if he was a man. Nothing more, nothing less. If he had the time… If he ever intended to hook up with a woman for more than one night… If he wasn’t so damned different…
But he didn’t have the time; he’d never have a permanent woman in his life; and he was different. So standing here and wondering what if was a waste of time.
After a half hour or so of riding a cooperative Matilda, Sheryl dismounted. The sun hung low in the sky, and the lesson was over for today. It hadn’t been much of a lesson. He knew it and so did Sheryl. Would she push for more? Or did she realize that he couldn’t teach anyone to do what he did?
They handed Matilda over to Mort, who had arrived to watch the last few minutes. He was still amazed at the progress Hawk had made with the mare, and as he led her away he was shaking his head and talking to Matilda. It was a good sign that he was calling the mare by name and speaking to her. He intended to keep her for a very long time.
As they walked toward the truck, Sheryl began to sing, almost absently and in a very soft voice, “Waltzing Matilda.” She had a sweet voice to match her cute face, and as she sang Hawk realized that in spite of her tough exterior, deep down she was a happy person. She wasn’t naive, and she had her own reasons for not giving her trust easily. But there was more to her than distrust and suspicion. He didn’t know anyone who was truly happy. Not like this. At the moment Sheryl Eldanis appeared to be completely carefree.
She stopped when they reached the truck, and turned to face him. The song ended abruptly. “Is that what you did with me?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Asking instead of ordering. You did strike me as a bit of a bully at first, but for the most part…” She smiled, and her blue eyes sparkled with life. “Do you get results with women the same way you do with horses?” Before he could answer she continued. “Of course you do. You did everything but rub me between the eyes! Guess what? It works. You really do catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. I never would’ve allowed a man who tried to push me around to spend the night in my attic.”
Instead of getting into the truck or allowing him to open the door for her, she leaned against the passenger door and looked up at him.
“I didn’t treat you like a horse,” Hawk said softly.
Her smile didn’t fade. “I’m not saying you did it on purpose.”
Sheryl really was a happy person, she was content with her practice and her animals and her life. But all Hawk had to do was look at her to know something was missing. The same something that was missing from his life.
Wyatt’s young veterinarian was more than cute in this light and with that smile on her face. She was tempting and sexy as all get-out. Hawk usually controlled his impulses, but with Sheryl it was getting harder every day. She was hot, and he was tired of ignoring the fact that she turned him on with a smile or a word. He was tired of ignoring the unexpected pull between them.
A cool autumn breeze washed over them both. Kissing her seemed like the thing to do, so he leaned in and down and laid his mouth over hers. She was surprised at first, but she didn’t seem to mind that he kissed her.
For a moment she was still. She didn’t answer the kiss, but she didn’t turn away, either. Soon she responded. Gently, at first, and then, a moment later, more strongly. Her mouth molded to his, her lips and her tongue moved subtly; just enough to push him a little bit closer to the edge. The kiss was as gentle and moving as the breeze and the way Sheryl smiled.
There wasn’t much gentle in Hawk’s life, so he enjoyed the kiss longer than he should have. He didn’t grab her; he didn’t press his body to hers even though that was exactly what he wanted to do. But their mouths continued their tender but deep exploration. He tasted her; he claimed her; and for a moment he forgot why he couldn’t have her.
Her lips parted, and she moaned low in her throat when his tongue danced with hers. He did not reach for her, but she laid her hands on him—one on his forearm, the other on his shoulder. Her body began to list toward his, as if he were a magnet and she a piece of steel. The hand at his shoulder drifted up, and a gentle thumb raked over his jawline, rasping over the two-day beard.
If Sheryl pressed her body to his and parted her lips a millimeter more, he’d end up making love to her. Here. Now. He wanted to be inside her; he wanted to make her scream and lurch beneath him. The way the kiss went on and on, the way it deepened and changed, told Hawk that Sheryl wanted that as much as he did.
But it was just a kiss, and no matter what his body tried to tell him, Sheryl was not his for the taking. Knowing she wasn’t his didn’t make him want her any less.
By the time he moved away they were both breathless.
He couldn’t stay in Wyatt, and Sheryl wasn’t the kind of woman who’d offer herself for a one-night stand. She’d expect more. She’d expect him to give something of himself besides his body, and he couldn’t do that. One night, maybe two, was all Hawk had to give. Not just to Sheryl, but to any woman.
When he found what he was looking for in those files, he’d be leaving town—in the middle of the night, if necessary. Cassie neede
d him, and he didn’t have time to waste pursuing pretty vets. Thinking of anything beyond this one kiss was ridiculous.
But his mind went there, anyway.
“I’ll buy you dinner,” he said quickly, as he turned away to walk to the driver’s side of the pickup.
“Not tonight.” Sheryl opened the passenger door and stepped up. Her voice trembled, just a little.
Crap. He never should’ve kissed her. She was scared, wary, and now she was going to kick him out of her house and he’d be back to square one. Maybe she’d let him buy the contents of those boxes in her attic. If he offered her enough money…
“I’m cooking tonight,” she said as she buckled her seat belt. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, and the tremble in her voice disappeared. “Lasagna, salad, garlic bread and banana pudding.”
“Sounds good,” Hawk said as he started the engine, hiding his rush of relief. She wasn’t kicking him out. At least, not yet. She just didn’t want to eat out tonight.
“You can sort through the boxes while I cook,” she continued, “take a break and eat, and then get back to work. You’ll be more alert while you’re searching through those files if you take a breather now and then.”
It took him a moment to realize that she was offering to cook for him. “That would be nice,” he said.
They didn’t talk as the truck took them back toward Wyatt. Though they didn’t mention the kiss, it was there, between them, unfinished. Shimmering in the air as if it had taken on a life of its own.
Hawk wasn’t one for romance. He’d been engaged once, but he’d been much too young, and the engagement had been a mistake. Sara had married another man while Hawk had been in the military, and after he’d come home he’d just never found the heart to even think about romantic relationships. He didn’t hate Sara for leaving him; he didn’t even blame her.
How could he consider making a woman his wife, or even an important part of his life, when he knew he’d never share with her the connection he felt with a stray dog he’d found on the side of the road? Animals were open to him. He understood them; they understood him. There were no secrets, no games, no puzzling questions when he linked with an animal in mind and spirit. People, on the other hand, were mysteries. Complicated, impossible-to-read mysteries.
A Touch of the Beast Page 6
