The Southern Comfort Series Box Set

by Clark O'Neill, Lisa

  The man was insanely appealing, but that surely didn’t warrant this dragging sense of disappointment. It wasn’t like he was the first attractive man to ever express an interest. And he wasn’t likely to be the last.

  Was she feeling so peevish because her uncle had inadvertently made Jordan something akin to a forbidden fruit?

  How long had it been since she’d felt this way? All tingly and excited and nauseous. Probably not since… Michael.

  Almost two years. Almost two years since her mother had gone missing, her father had gone out of his head, and her engagement had gone the way of the dinosaurs. Michael had taken his ring back in a fiery explosion of anger and fear, leaving her to choke on the cloud of their relationship’s dust. He’d loved her, but he hadn’t loved her enough to take on her family.

  And God, how could she really blame him? The Brady Bunch, they were not.

  She told herself that things were better this way. Better that the only man who’d caught her interest since then was for all intents and purposes unavailable. Given her situation, she needed to view the opposite sex as… meringue. Tasty enough for a moment or two, but basically lacking substance.

  Dating was fine, but dating sexy, persistent men with cute dogs and cuter dimples was completely out of the question. To do so, she risked wanting more.

  And more was something she wasn’t sure she could have.

  Especially not with Jordan Wellington.

  Sighing, Ava picked up her pen and began to transcribe some notations on Finn’s file. She’d no sooner written her first letter when Katie burst through her office door.

  “Cole Nash’s Bernese was hit by a car. He’s out there bleeding all over the waiting room.”

  “Get him back to surgery,” Ava said hurriedly. “And grab the lead apron out of the closet. I’ll need to take some X-rays.”

  She dropped the pen on top of the folder and rushed out the door.

  IT was past six by the time Ava finally locked the clinic’s front door. She’d spent the better part of two hours repairing the extensive trauma caused when a ninety pound canine takes on a car. Muscle and tendon damage, slivers of shattered bone. Two delicate steel rods had been inserted to give the dog the chance of independent mobility. Due to his size, and his breed’s tendency toward hip dysplasia, she knew that he and his owner had a long, difficult road ahead.

  But at least she’d managed to save his leg.

  Sighing, Ava flexed her fingers, trying to work out some of the cramping brought on by hours of delicate work. Then sliding her keys into the pocket of her lab coat, started toward post-op. She now had two patients recovering from surgery, so it looked like she would be spending the night. There was a well-used folding cot in her office, and a full bath off the small kitchenette in the back. She wasn’t in the type of profession where you could count on leaving your work at the office at five o’clock and heading home.

  Yet she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Ava?”

  “Hmm?” Ava blinked twice and brought Katie into focus. She noticed that the other woman – who’d switched into friendship mode as it was past five o’clock – was holding a bottle of shampoo, a bar of soap, and a clean, folded towel in her hands.

  “You’re a mess,” Katie said mildly. “Why don’t you go hit the shower and wake yourself up? I’ll keep an eye on the dogs for you.”

  “Oh.” She blinked again. “Thanks, Katie. But you don’t have to stay. The cocker spaniel’s already perking up, and I imagine our big guy will sleep for several hours. He came out of the anesthesia fine, but the pain meds are going to keep him down.”

  “Nevertheless.” Katie thrust the shower accouterments into Ava’s arms. “I think I’ll stick around, just in case. Run along, now.”

  She hustled Ava toward the back.

  AS soon as her boss was out of the room, Katie rushed over to the desk to grab her purse. She touched up her makeup, swept her shoulder-length hair into a casually elegant twist, and exchanged her jeans and sneakers for a short, floaty skirt and a pair of sandals. She’d debated the issue of heels, but wasn’t entirely sure of the size of the men she’d agreed to meet.

  And besides, she didn’t want to look like a stick figure next to Ava’s petite package of curves.

  She was bent over, fastening the strap around her left ankle when she heard the knock on the front door. Perfect. Lou Ellen was right on time. The woman might be flighty, but she could be counted on in a pinch.

  Katie waved at the older woman before hurrying over to let her in.

  “Thank you so much for coming.”

  “You think I’d miss this?” Lou Ellen drifted in, smelling faintly of rosewater and the peppermints she favored. “Girl hasn’t so much as sniffed at a man in going on two years. Doesn’t start using what the good Lord gave her it’s likely to weld shut. Here.” She handed Katie a figure hugging red dress and a pair of open-toed pumps.

  “Perfect.” Katie gave the outfit an once-over, decided that she couldn’t have done better herself. The dress was sensational. Casual, tasteful, but brief enough to make it hot. Ava would look like a siren.

  Lou Ellen glanced around, taking in the neatly organized supplies, the tidy reception area, the scrubbed floors. The mingling scents of animal and antiseptic in the air. “So this is it, huh?” She wrinkled her nose. Katie knew that work, let alone work that involved the tending of animals and their bodily functions, left an unpleasant taste in the other woman’s mouth.

  It was why, despite her and Ava’s close relationship, this was the first she’d stepped foot in the clinic.

  “And the… dogs I’m supposed to keep my eye on are where?”

  “In the back.” Katie knew it spoke of the depth of Lou Ellen’s affection for Ava that she would be willing to lend a hand. She had no great love for man’s best friend. “One has been moved into the kennel and should be no trouble. The other is still sedated. You’ll just need to monitor him for any signs of trouble.”

  “And what am I supposed to do if there’s trouble? Restrain the beast?”

  Katie laughed. “He’s drugged and he has a broken leg. He’s not going anywhere. But if he becomes agitated when he wakes up, or looks like he’s going into distress, just call Ava. Chances are good that he won’t even wake up until after we get back. We should only be out a couple of hours.”

  “Well, then.” Lou Ellen pursed her lips in an expression that hovered between distaste and resignation.

  “You’re a good sport, Lou Ellen. With everything that Ava’s had to deal with lately I think that a couple of drinks with a pair of attractive men might be just what she needs.”

  “After tonight, that might be just what I need as well.”

  Katie swung an arm around the older woman’s shoulders. “I’m afraid I don’t have any adult beverages to offer, but if you’ll come to the back with me, I can introduce you to a big, prostrate male.”

  “When you put it that way, darling, how’s a lady to refuse?”

  AVA washed the day’s work, if not the day’s worries out of her hair. The metallic odor of blood, the chemical tang of disinfectant, slid away in a sudsy froth that hinted of coconut.

  She had to admit the shower helped her transform herself into something remotely human.

  When she stepped out and began toweling off, she noticed that Katie had taken her soiled clothes. Always efficient, that was Katie. Well, mostly efficient, Ava considered as she looked around. She’d neglected to bring Ava the spare sweat suit she kept in her office. But no matter. Ava simply wrapped up in the towel and padded across the hall herself.

  When she opened the drawer, she found a note instead of her sweat suit: Don’t Argue

  Perplexed, mostly naked, she wandered back into the hall. She found her assistant in the process of closing the door to post-op behind her. When Katie turned, smiled, Ava waved the paper. “Would you like to tell me what this is about?”

  “We’re going out for drinks.”

&nb
sp; Ava noted how Katie was dressed, the short skirt, the makeup. “It’s a nice thought, Katie, but I’m afraid it’s not the best time.” Pushing the still dripping hair out of her eyes, she nodded meaningfully toward post-op.

  “It’s the perfect time.” Katie grabbed Ava by the elbow, and steered her across the hall. “Wait right here.”

  When she reappeared, Ava blinked in recognition at the red dress. “How did you get that?”

  “Your landlord.” Katie pushed her toward the bathroom.

  “Lou Ellen? Lou Ellen brought you this? So what, she just… let herself into my apartment and rummaged through my things?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Why Ava was surprised, she didn’t know. Lou Ellen would think no more of violating Ava’s privacy than she did of drinking whiskey with breakfast. Other people’s mores had never been her concern.

  “You’ve had a bad time of it lately and we decided that you need a distraction. So we’re going to go drown your concerns in a nice bottle of wine.”

  “Katie, I appreciate the thought, but you can’t expect me to leave when I have two patients to tend.”

  Katie waved that away like a gnat. “Lou Ellen’s sitting with them as we speak.”

  “What?” Ava felt, literally felt, her heart skip a beat. She dug her heels in and looked toward post-op in panic. “Lou Ellen doesn’t know a thing about –”

  Katie wouldn’t let her finish. “I’ve given her instructions, and she has both of our cell phone numbers. Give the lady some credit.” She gave Ava another unceremonious shove into the bathroom and all but tossed the dress in after. “Oh and Ava? Put on some makeup. We’re going to be meeting a couple of men.”

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Jordan complained as he nursed his beer.

  They’d arrived early, at Clay’s insistence, because he wanted to loosen his friend up. Jordan was almost always good company, but after he’d had a few drinks he was downright entertaining. Despite his size, he had the tolerance of a ninety pound co–ed. Needless to say, Clay considered it his duty to get his friend stinking drunk at least once a year. It was always good for an evening of laughs, not to mention the fodder for the harassment mill.

  Clay figured Jordan could use a few laughs right now, but the man didn’t seem inclined to cooperate. “Would you like me to put a nipple on that thing?”

  “I’m driving. And anyway, don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.” Jordan narrowed his eyes at Clay. “Pump a few beers in me, diminish my faculties, throw in a couple of desperate females and see what happens. You’re a pot-stirrer, Clay. A six foot wooden spoon.”

  “It’s what I do,” Clay agreed.

  “Well, I’m onto you, so stir things up elsewhere. And just so you know, you’ve got an hour.” He glanced at his watch, noted the time. As a concession to good manners he’d left the ball cap in the car, but he hadn’t exactly put bells on. “Eight o’clock rolls around, and we’re out of here.”

  “What if I’m having fun, Dad?”

  “Ha ha. If you’re not ready by eight, you’ll just have to get one of the romance groupies to give you a ride. No pun intended. I’m going to go home and take another look at those files.”

  Clay examined the dregs of his beer and decided he was ready for another. “Jordan, we’ve just spent a whole day with crime scene photos, autopsy reports and enough interview transcripts to sink a boat. It’s gone a long way toward giving me some ideas about your killer’s personality, but son, it’s time for a break. Just let it go for an hour or two.”

  Jordan picked at the label on his bottle. “If we don’t have the right man, I may still have to go to trial against the man we do have. What if I win? How can I, in good conscience, live with that on my hands? And worse, so much worse, is what if all this dicking around leaves the real killer free to do it again? Some innocent woman could die.” He frowned at his beer. “I just can’t help feeling… responsible.”

  “That kind of responsibility will kill you, friend.” As Clay well knew. The stress inherent in what he did caused many to burn out faster than a match head. “Don’t forget you’re part of a team that’s part of a system. Sometimes the system works, sometimes the system fails. You can only work within its confines to the best of your abilities, and do what you believe is right. After that, it’s up to fate.”

  “That’s almost identical to the advice I received from my father.”

  “Your father’s a wise man.” Sitting aside his empty glass, he signaled the bartender for another. “Now listen to the advice of another wise man, and try to have yourself a little fun. I meant what I said about all work and no play. You don’t find a way to strike a balance, the next hospital you wind up in is likely to have padded walls.”

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

  Ava grimaced at the old plaster façade of Moon River Brewery. Gas flame lanterns spurted and danced, burning off the deepening shadows of dusk, while music and voices spilled through the open doors like bright candies from a box. The Savannah landmark might be known for its ghost, but there were plenty of live patrons tonight.

  She glanced down at the red dress. They were about to go in there and meet up with a couple of strange men, and she looked like a walking come on. “Shit.”

  “Language,” Katie sing-songed as she nudged Ava down the sidewalk. “And look at it this way – if nothing else, you’ve escaped from your spy detail for a couple of hours. The goon wasn’t paying any attention to the fact that I made off with you in my car. He’ll be sitting in the parking lot guarding your Mustang, and you’ll be frolicking with attractive men.”

  “No offense, Katie. But you only have your friend’s word that these men are attractive. They could be trolls. They probably are trolls. Trolls with bad breath.” The thought cheered her vaguely. “Trolls with bad breath who stalk women’s book clubs.”

  “Oh, hush. This is Caitlin Cavanaugh we’re talking about. She’s just released her third bestseller, so I’m pretty sure she knows attractive when she sees it.”

  “Ah, yes. The bodice rippers you like to read when you’re pretending to be studying the computer manual.”

  Katie blinked, then quickly recovered. “They’re not bodice rippers,” she said indignantly. “They’re very well-written, critically acclaimed romance novels.” She pulled up short as they reached the door. “And I can all but guarantee that these men aren’t trolls. I’ve seen photos of her husband, and if his brother looks anything like him, well, all I can say is: wow. We should be safe.”

  Safe, Ava thought grimly as she looked around, wasn’t exactly what she was feeling. There was more of a crowd than she’d expected for a Monday, most of them baby-faced and sunburned on top of it. Spring-breakers, Ava decided when one of them looked over, then elbowed his pal. And here she was dressed like a little red sports car, just begging to be pulled over.

  In defense, Ava turned away, studied the old black and white photographs that lined the brick walls. But the shot of the fountain in Forsythe Park did little to improve her mood.

  “Okay,” Katie drew her attention. “We’re looking for a blond and a brunette… Oh. I see them up at the bar. Holy… check them out.” Katie sucked in a breath. “To the left, ten o’clock. The blond is definitely hot. And the one in the blue shirt is –”

  “Jordan Wellington.” Ava’s own breath clogged in her throat as the men turned from the bar. Warning bells echoed shrilly inside her head while her stomach did the gastric rumba. “Christ in a sidecar, Katie, you’ve dragged me along on a date with Jordan Wellington.”

  “You know him?” Katie blinked.

  “New client. Long story.” Ava scrubbed her hand across her face and laughed. Fate was a sneaky sonofabitch. “Look, Katie, I have to get out of here before he sees me.”

  “What? Don’t be ridiculous.” Katie grabbed Ava’s arm as she tried to pull away. “And anyway, it’s too late. Mr. tall, dark, and… oh, lethal smile, has apparently
spotted you. Whoa. Dimples. And while I would like to point out that he was supposed to be my date, it’s obvious there’s something going on here of which I was unaware.”

  She spared Ava a reproachful look. “Now buck up, sister. They’re on their way over.”

  JORDAN could hardly believe his eyes. He’d been told to watch out for a tall redhead, but Caitlin’s details had been sketchy on the friend.

  He decided that the completed picture had turned out better than he could have hoped.

  “What?” Clay followed Jordan’s gaze toward the door. “Man. Check out the pins on the redhead. And hey, isn’t that –”

  “Ava Martinez,” Jordan concurred, and followed the statement with a wolfish grin. “And now I understand why they use red to stop traffic.” He rubbed a hand over his heart. “Clay, I take back every irritable word I said. Thanks to you, it looks like I’m going to get my date with the good doctor after all.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE man was deadly. After twenty minutes in his company, Ava felt like she’d plunged bodily into quicksand. How was anyone supposed to be able to breathe when they were being drowned by all that charm? Where was her foothold? Couldn’t someone toss her a damn line?

  “Would you like another glass of wine?”

  Ava looked down at her glass in surprise. She had no idea how it had come to be empty. And the worst part of it was that she’d inadvertently consumed a glass of her uncle’s label. The small vineyard which produced it was one of the “legitimate” businesses that Carlos used to launder his money. She’d been too flustered when she ordered the house white to bother to check.

  She was not a woman accustomed to being flustered.

  She returned Jordan’s gaze, got pinned by that piercing blue, and then realized he was waiting for an answer. “Actually, I think I’d like a mojito.”

  “Is the wine not to your liking?”

  She thought of the money that she’d just put in her uncle’s pocket. “Let’s just say it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”