by Laura Moore
Caleb appeared unfazed by her tone. The twinkle of amusement in his eyes told her he was lacking any remorse over his stripper comment. He gave her a devastating smile, showing his strong white teeth. Apart from his character, just about everything concerning Caleb Wells was devastating, she acknowledged peevishly.
“Well, I’ll let you go, so that you can be finished in time to come and see the house.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Dr. Wells. The twins and I will find another place in town to live,” Cassie replied in her haughtiest tone.
Caleb only laughed. “Man, you sure do give freezer burn, Ice Case. The Dr. Wells is a nice touch. I sound kind of like one of those soap opera villains about to be sued for malpractice.” He stepped closer to her, his chest inches away from her booted leg. “Or am I the evil doctor that drags innocent young nurses into the supply closet to have my wicked way with them?” Before Cassie could tell him that she’d vote for the latter he continued. “I’ll be back around five. You know for your kids’ sake at least, you should definitely come by and see the place.” With a casual pat to her knee, Caleb Wells sauntered off, whistling Van Morrison’s “Moondance” just loud enough to reach her.
6
C aleb was inordinately pleased with himself that morning as he saw patients in the examining room. He’d zeroed in on the key to foiling any attempt by Cassie to extricate herself from living at his house: her kids. Sure, it was emotional blackmail, but after all, the house was made for kids, with grounds and space enough for them to run free. If Cassie tried to resist, Caleb wouldn’t hesitate to lay a major guilt trip on her. She’d come away feeling as if she was going to be handed the title of lousy parent of the year. And if she dreamed up any other excuses, he was confident he’d be able to overrun them, too.
Caleb wasn’t sure why, in the space of a few short hours, he’d undergone such a radical and irrational transformation with respect to Cassie Miller but he did know that he was damned if she was going to slip away before he’d figured it out. And if he was going to rent his house to someone, Cassie Miller was, without a doubt, a whole lot more interesting to look at than some happy yuppie couple.
Caleb’s list of patients was fairly typical that day: Three dogs, five cats, as well as two trips to neighboring farms. The first to check on a horse with an acute case of laminitis, and the second to a mare in foal. Caleb loved his work. Animals had been his passion since childhood, and he’d studied hard to get his degree and start his own practice. Hank had been right when he said that Caleb wouldn’t want to give it up to take over Orion’s riding and training. While he’d always loved riding and competing, there was no way he wanted to give up the work he did here and at Five Oaks. Caleb realized that for him, his work as a veterinarian was what was ultimately the more fulfilling.
It had been his work that kept Caleb together after Pamela had left him jilted and betrayed. By concentrating on the animals in his care, Caleb had managed to block out the pain and anger of her desertion and manipulation—and salvage his soul and pride piece by piece.
Caleb allowed thoughts of Pamela to intrude as infrequently as possible. His greedy bitch of an ex-wife should have been a closed chapter of his life, one he wished had never been written, or on which he could press the delete button. Instead, she remained far too present, like a festering wound that refused to heal.
All because she’d managed to rob him of the single good thing that had happened to him during their years of marriage. The court had awarded her ownership of his stallion Orion, and now she used that position to torment and thwart him at every turn.
God, he’d been so green, so foolish. What had he known of the damages a vindictive spouse could wreak upon entering the hallowed halls of the Juvenile and Domestic Relations Court? He’d been nothing but a damn fool, thinking his marriage would be anything like those of his parents, his sister or that of Hank and Melissa. A marriage that would endure and grow stronger with the test of time. It was only now as he looked back that Caleb recognized that his and Pamela’s marriage had about as much chance of success as a tin shack did of surviving a direct hit by a twister. None at all.
He could still remember how optimistic and brash he’d been back then. He’d recently finished veterinary school and had returned to his hometown eager to begin building a clientele. His principal goals in life at that point had been his work and paying off the student loans that he’d taken out. That and having a kick-ass time at the parties he went to on the weekends.
He and Pamela had met one night at just such a party. Thrown by a close school friend, the party was pretty much a typical vet school bash: noisy, crowded, and wild enough to shake the walls. Pamela spotted Caleb right away. Her bold eyes never leaving his, she made her way across the crowded room, not stopping until her body was pressed against his.
Splaying one hand across his chest, while the other stroked the beaded bottle of beer in his hand, her fingers trailing up and down its length suggestively, Pamela rose slowly on her tiptoes and lifted her lush, red mouth to whisper in his ear.
“Why don’t you take me home and we can make this party more private.”
The feel of Pamela’s sinuous body rubbing against his was like a sleek cat demanding attention, her perfume filling his head, her eyes making hot promises. Too hot to ignore. Caleb grabbed the hand that had abandoned the bottle and was now making an unerring journey down to his crotch. Dragging her behind him, they’d made a hasty exit.
Even before they reached his house, Pamela had begun tearing at his clothes, eager to have him at her disposal. Caleb smiled bitterly at the memory. That’s exactly what he’d been to her: disposable.
That she’d used all her sexual wiles to capture him, he could forgive. For Pamela was an intensely sexual creature. What he couldn’t ever pardon was having duped him into believing she loved him. Only him. And then for giving him one final royal screw to remember her by.
A mere three months after they met, they were married. Caleb bullheadedly ignored the worried looks and anxious comments of his parents and Hank and Melissa. Caleb shook his head at the memory. Christ, he’d been so young at the time. Wet behind the ears. Pamela hadn’t been any older, but far wiser and equipped with all the treachery of Delilah. She’d spun a sexual cocoon around him that left him blind to her faults. Blind to just about everything except for the intoxicating lure of her body.
Their marriage had lasted a little over three years. Enough time for Pamela to go through her sexual repertoire and begin hankering for greener pastures. Enough time for Caleb’s head to clear and for him to realize just what a shallow creature she was.
From the word go, his marriage with Pamela seemed to be based on one colossal mistake after another. If he and Pamela had been contestants on one of those TV game shows, Caleb would have been the one standing around looking stupid as a bucket of ice water was dumped on top of him. The loud gong would be sounding for the audience, with Pamela laughing and clapping.
Pride and stubbornness had kept him from ending the marriage as soon as it started to stink as bad as last week’s garbage. His second mistake had been to throw himself into his work so much that he didn’t keep track of exactly how green his wife liked her pastures. Which in Pamela’s case translated into a nice fat bank account, a mansion, and a shiny Lamborghini in the garage. A sweet package when combined with a slick new hubby who apparently didn’t mind if his wife was shallow vain, and utterly incapable of holding a conversation that didn’t revolve around herself.
It was one of life’s little ironies that the man Pamela dumped him for was one of Caleb’s clients. Stuart Ross III, a multimillionaire with a stable full of polo ponies.
Ross had called Caleb’s animal hospital frantic for his help. One of his best ponies had come down with a life-threatening case of colic. After locating the blockage using x-ray Caleb had injected the pony with a saline solution to the intestine, thereby eliminating the need to operate and remove a large section of the pony’s intest
ine. An operation that would have meant, in all probability, premature retirement for Ross’s prized starter. Afterwards, Caleb had written up a whole new regimen for the pony a complete overhaul of its diet and feeding routine hoping to prevent a recurrence of the colic.
Ross, overcome with gratitude, had invited Caleb and Pamela to be the guests of honor at one of Ross’s dinner parties. An “intimate” affair of fifty friends seated at two long banquet tables. Pamela had been thrilled by the invitation. In the three years of marriage, life as a young vet’s wife had disappointingly lacked in glamour. With a zeal she usually reserved for purchasing overpriced designer clothes, Pamela had set about convincing Caleb of the advantages a party like this could present. How great an opportunity for him to make contacts and generate new clients. Caleb had finally agreed, and Pamela rushed out to buy an evening gown.
Caleb arrived at the party in black tie, and Pamela in a long black crêpe de Chine dress that clung to her luscious curves like a second skin. She’d spent the entire afternoon at the beauty salon, luxuriating in a facial, a manicure, and hair treatment. The stylist had pinned her deep chestnut hair at the back of her head so its shiny mass tumbled down the length of her back. That evening she glowed like the exquisite creature she was, with all her sexy beauty. A single glance at the shell-shocked expressions of every man and woman at the party told Caleb that once again his wife’s stunning sensuality had hit its mark.
Pamela had been awed and thrilled by the splendor of Ross’s mansion. Like a sponge, she’d absorbed every detail: the lavish furnishings, the marble fireplaces, the enormous dining room, the proportions of which almost dwarfed the massive banquet tables laden with candles, silver fine china, and clever floral arrangements set before each lady’s place. As the wife of the guest of honor, she was seated on Ross’s right. Caleb, a few places down, next to a bejeweled society matron, watched his wife flirt with their host, inclining her head and body so that each exchange became more intimate.
Occasionally, he still wondered why he hadn’t put a stop to the way she was carrying on right then. The only answer he could give was highly unflattering. Even with their marriage on the rocks, he’d simply been too bloody arrogant to imagine the possibility that Pamela would be unfaithful.
Seventeen days later, she informed him she was filing for divorce.
The bitter arguments, the hateful words they’d thrown at each other so quickly so easily, revealed only too well the emptiness of their marriage. Although she refused to admit she was leaving him for another man, Caleb was left with little doubt that Ross was behind her every step of the way. She wouldn’t have been able to afford that slick fancy New York lawyer otherwise.
Pamela should have been an actress. She’d played the role of her life in front of the judge, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she described Caleb’s cruel neglect. Her shoulders had bowed gently, overcome with shame, her voice small and breathless, telling the patrician, silverhaired judge how Caleb never came home, how he’d cut off her credit line simply because of a few too many overdrafts—merely harmless errors—how he wouldn’t make love with her . . .
The judge had eaten up Pamela’s words like they were little after-dinner mints set before him on a fussy sterling silver tray. It was quickly obvious to Caleb that the presence of his lawyer, seated next to him, was useless.
The lawyer’s protests had fallen on deaf ears, most likely because the judge’s eyes were glued to Pamela’s ohso pathetic figure, outlined to mouthwatering perfection in a dove grey woolen dress, so modest and so revealing. The crying, too, had been a nice touch.
Pamela had sat in the Moroccan leather in the judge’s chambers sobbing as if her heart had been shattered in a million pieces. She managed, however, to quiet down long enough to listen to the judge admonish Caleb as if he were a piece of pond scum for not taking better care of such a lovely woman. For not honoring his vows. Then the judge pronounced it only just and fitting that a woman who’d devoted herself to such a heartless partner be recompensed accordingly. Truly miraculous how those tears had dried up the second Pamela was handed a deed giving her full ownership of Orion.
The debacle of his marriage and the travesty of his divorce left a deep, festering wound. However, the experience taught Caleb a vital lesson. Ever since the divorce, he had only let himself be involved with women who were easy. Easy to get into bed, easy to say good-bye to. His considered opinion was that he’d sooner get a lobotomy than another wife. Good, hot sex was all he was after. No strings attached.
So, it came as a somewhat unsettling sensation when he left the animal hospital that afternoon and drove back to Five Oaks to find himself already anticipating what new excuses Cassie Miller might have concocted to avoid moving into his parents’ house. He was surprised at how eager he was to see her again. Perhaps it was because she’d been so easy to rile. He hadn’t enjoyed teasing anyone this much in a long, long time. He was curious, too, whether Cassie would still be mind-blowingly lovely. Or could her extraordinary looks have been merely a product of his heated imagination?
After parking his truck, Caleb headed toward the exercise ring, figuring that, if Cassie was still working, this was where he’d find her. He stopped as if he’d slammed into an invisible wall, eyes widening in disbelief.
Cassie was astride a fiery red chestnut who was doing its damnedest to hurl her straight into the setting sun.
He watched, stunned, as Cassie rode the alternately bucking, crow-hopping ball of fire around the ring. Gone was the exquisite poise he’d witnessed when she’d been on Orion. Her riding style now looked like someone trying to stay on top of a comet bouncing off earth’s atmosphere.
It was a hell of a balancing act.
As far as he could make out, Cassie’s game plan was to keep the horse moving forward, no matter how badly it tried to shy to the side or throw her to the ground. He spotted Hank, hanging over the side rail, grinning from ear to ear. Caleb laid a hand on his shoulder.
“So Cassie also does bronc busting, Hank? Looks like a western rodeo out there.”
“Hey, Caleb. Glad to see you, son. That’s Cassie’s new mare, Hot Lips.”
“You mean, she actually paid money for that ball of fire?”
“Yeah. Apparently the mare’s got this nasty trick she plays every time someone gets on her. For the first fifteen minutes, she’s wilder than a tornado. Then she starts to settle down a bit.”
“How many minutes have I missed?”
“About five. Doesn’t appear to be slowing down yet.”
Caleb whistled under his breath. “She’s a nice looking horse, when she isn’t hopping like a Mexican jumping bean. Classy mover.” Caleb looked at Hank out of the corner of his eye before shifting his gaze back to the spectacle before him. “Tell me, Hank, you get any work done, or have you been sitting on this fence all day watching Cassie ride?”
“Hell, yes!” Hank replied, his tone offended. “I’ve been going over stud books all afternoon. There are a couple of entries I want to go over with you. And I’ve been writing up a list of shows I think we’ll want to enter Orion in. Not too many small shows nearby but I’ve found a couple we can start him on. Even better I think they’re so small, Pamela wouldn’t be caught dead at them.”
“Beneath her dignity.”
“Of course.” Hank grinned. “Now with respect to Cassie, I’ve been out a couple of times a day, half an hour at a time, tops. Just to see how she’s doing with the other horses, fill her in a bit on how we’ve been working them. I do like how that girl rides. Got a nice way with the youngsters, too.”
“Well, tomorrow it’s my turn. I know you’ll want to be down in the south pasture, checking the fields.” The south pasture was where the mares and their new foals were grazed during the warmer months. The weather was just beginning to turn fair enough to allow the new foals to stay out during the day.
“By the way did she mention me?” Caleb asked casually, his eyes still locked on the red mare Cassie was f
inally managing to quiet.
Hank laughed. “I wouldn’t want to damage your ego by telling you, Caleb. Let’s just say I get the feeling she’s a bit doubtful you’d be providing a healthy atmosphere for her two kids.”
“Healthy atmosphere? I’m a doctor, for Christ’s sake ” Caleb protested, grinning.
“You’re a vet, moron.”
A groan of relief escaped her lips as she slipped off Hot Lips’s back. Her mare had finally calmed down, and Cassie had been able to work her over the flat for about forty minutes. She’d opted against jumping her, however unwilling to subject her horse’s legs to any more pounding. Anyway Cassie’s gas tank was on empty.
She was beat.
Those crow hops, rabbit leaps, and bucks played havoc on her lower back. Hot Lips had better mellow out soon or her owner would be a cripple. She was going to have to spend some time stretching tonight if she didn’t want to be stiff and sore in the morning. She pulled off her hard hat and wiped the sweat off her brow. Lord, she could drink a gallon of water. Her water bottle had better be near the tack room, she seemed to remember leaving it there. The inside of her mouth felt like sawdust.
She led Hot Lips out of the ring, sighing in resignation as she saw Caleb Wells coming toward her with Hank at his side. She felt his gaze sweep over her sweaty face and clinging shirt. An eyebrow lifted challengingly.
What did he think? That women didn’t sweat? She’d been riding for close to six hours, with only lunch as her real break. The rest of the time she’d been grooming, tacking, or massaging horses. Did he think she’d be ready to serve tea and cucumber sandwiches?
Caleb wondered how it was possible that Cassie could look even more breathtaking now than she had this morning. With a start, he realized that it was precisely because she was sweaty and disheveled that she looked so beautiful, so desirable. She was alive and full of color, as though she’d been wrapped tight in the arms of a man, making passionate love. She looked the way he wanted to make her feel.
