The Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Janet (Book 2)

by Peggy Webb

  “He’s not a wet, muddy dog. He’s Harvey, and I love him.”

  Dan took in her tumbled auburn hair, her brown eyes bright with compassion. “You’re not half bad, Doc,” he said as he bent and carefully lifted the big dog.

  “Watch his leg,” she said.

  Dan laughed. “Just a little bossy.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself. Just a little—” pausing, she surveyed him from head to toe “—big.”

  They started across the football field toward her car.

  “Dan Albany.”

  “Janet Hall.”

  “I don’t know how you got over this fence, Janet.”

  “I climbed, just like you.”

  He thought that must have been a sight to see, but he didn’t say so. Dr. Janet Hall was wearing high-heeled pumps and a dress under her raincoat.

  By the time they reached the fence, the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

  “It’s going to be tricky getting across holding this dog,” he said.

  “Can you lift him over if I go first?”

  Dan judged the height of the fence. “I think so, but can you hold him? He probably weighs sixty pounds.”

  She stuck her flashlight into her pocket and smiled at him. “Have you any idea how strong a sixty-five pound child who doesn’t want a shot can be? Subduing them long enough for an injection builds strength, if nothing else.”

  “Regular little tigers, are they?”

  “Absolutely.”

  With her coat providing cover, she hiked her dress up matter-of-factly and found a toehold in the chain links. A hefty breeze caught her coat and billowed it back from her body. Her legs were long and slim and lovely. As she climbed, Dan caught an intoxicating glimpse of lingerie. The doctor wore black lace under her tailored dress.

  Half-embarrassed for enjoying the view so much, he turned his head away and tried to take an interest in the trees. But they were just trees. Janet, on the other hand was perched astride the fence with her dress hem caught in the chain links.

  “I seem to be stuck.” Her laugh was breezy and completely unself-conscious. “If I let go to free myself, I’ll lose my balance.”

  “Maybe I can help.” He lowered George onto the grass and reached up. His hand brushed leg. “Sorry.”

  “No problem.” The problem with telling one little lie, was that now she had to straddle a fence with her dress hiked up to her hips and pretend she didn’t notice that Dan Albany had his hands all over her legs. Strictly business, of course. But here she was, the most proper of the Dixie Virgins, soaking wet, displaying her legs like a Las Vegas showgirl and loving every minute of it.

  Thank God he finally got her dress free.

  “I’m afraid I tore your dress.”

  “It’s okay. I never did like it anyway.”

  Goose bumps popped up along her arms. Unfortunately they were not from the chill. It was high time to get off the fence.

  “Lift Harvey up, and I’ll take him down the other side.”

  “You be careful now.”

  She thought his concern was touching, until she figured out her was talking about the dog. She gritted her teeth, put her stubborn will to the task, and finally got down, dog and all, on the other side.

  “How did you get to know this big mutt?” Dan asked after they had settled in her car.

  “About six weeks ago he showed up on my doorstep—on a Friday night. He looked skinny and lonesome, and he wasn’t wearing a collar.”

  “That’s just how he looked when he came to me—lonesome. I put ads in the paper, trying to find his owner. But nobody called to claim a shaggy red dog, so I took him in.”

  “No wonder they didn’t call. He’s tan. That’s what my ad said.”

  They both laughed.

  “He seemed to like being around my house all week,” Dan said. “I guess it’s because he loved being near the school where all the children were. But he disappeared every weekend.”

  “That’s when he came to me. I call Harvey my weekend dog.”

  “And I call George my weekly dog. He’s as reliable as the Weekly Reader the teachers use at school.”

  “He’s a smart dog, answering to two names.”

  “I consider him brilliant. You ought to see the way he can sit up and beg for a steak bone.”

  “I never give him bones. He might get them stuck in his throat. I give him only vitamin-enriched dog food.”

  Dan chuckled. “That’s probably the reason he spends most of his time at my house—you won’t give him anything decent to eat. He’s crazy about hot dogs.”

  “They’re full of additives.”

  “What do you eat at ball games?”

  “I never go to ball games.”

  He’d known it, but he’d had to ask. Strike one, he thought. But of course you couldn’t rule out a woman simply because she didn’t care about sports. Maybe she was the domestic type. Maybe she loved puttering around her house and kitchen. He gave her a sidelong glance. Classy. Smart. Professional. He wondered if she ever had time to putter.

  He was going to ask her, but his house came into view.

  Chapter Two

  Turn left here,” Dan said. “That’s my house.”

  Dan Albany’s house was a revelation to Janet. On the outside it was old-fashioned and looked too large for one man. But the yard looked well cared for. Inside, the house smelled like bacon and coffee and cupcakes—and faintly of dirty gym socks. The front hall had an antique hall tree almost invisible under all the baseball caps, letter jackets and overcoats. To this collection, Dan added his umbrella and raincoat. Janet feared the tree might topple under the weight.

  He picked up the dog again and led the way to his den. A fire was going in the fireplace and two Victorian lamps made soft pools of light in the darkness. The room was filled with large, comfortable-looking furniture and lots of clutter. It had the lived-in look of a man who collects things but doesn’t quite know where to put them. An antique carousel music box shared space on an end table with a signed baseball, an old duck decoy and a letter opener.

  Hand-crocheted doilies, all in different designs, decorated the arms of all the chairs. A child’s wooden rocking horse sat in front of the bookshelves, which were fairly groaning under their load of books and knickknacks.

  Janet had never been in a room quite so astonishingly cluttered. It wasn’t dirty or even messy, just jumbled.

  Dan placed the dog on a rug in front of the fireplace, and Janet had no more time to consider his house. She patched Harvey the best way she could while Dan held him steady. She liked the way he constantly stroked the dog and spoke soothing words to him.

  “You’re good,” she said, looking up into those amazing eyes. “There are days I could use you at the hospital.” She began to pack her medical supplies into her black bag.

  “I love children and animals.”

  Dan gave George one last pat, then moved to stand beside the mantel as the dog’s head sagged and his eyes closed in sleep. He watched the play of firelight in Janet’s hair as she bent over her bag. Nice.

  “If we’re both going to be involved with this dog,” he added, “I think we should decide what to call him. No use in him having to remember two names.”

  “I’m partial to Harvey.”

  “Any reason?”

  “It’s the name of a favorite uncle of mine.”

  Dan smiled. “He doesn’t mind being godfather to a dog?”

  “He wouldn’t, if he knew. He was crazy about animals. I think word got out among strays, because he never had fewer than six dogs at a time.” She snapped her bag shut and stood up. “He died five years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.”

  “Then we’ll call him Harvey.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re more than welcome.”

  Lulled by the cozy firelight and the easy, relaxed manner of Dan Albany, Janet felt like sliding into one of the big, fat chairs and leaning h
er head back. A woman could get addicted to a cozy room like this. .

  “Could you direct me to your bathroom?” she said. “I need to wash up before I go.”

  “Down the hall, then through the door on the left.”

  When Janet got into the bathroom, she suddenly realized how tense she was. No matter what shape her little patients were in, she had to be strong. The compassion she felt had to be tempered with discipline. Her work demanded it.

  She leaned briefly against the sink, then straightened her shoulders and scrubbed her hands. She’d check on Harvey one last time; then she’d go home and climb into a hot bath with a stack of medical journals. Much of her professional reading was done in the tub. Doing two things at once was the only way she could make enough time in her day for all the things that needed attention.

  The den was empty except for Harvey. Janet knelt beside him.

  “You’re back.” Dan Albany spoke from the doorway.

  “Yes. I thought I’d check on Harvey before I leave.”

  “I made hot chocolate.” He held out two steaming mugs. “And don’t say you don’t have time.”

  “That’s exactly what I was going to say. How did you know?”

  “I’ve been around high-powered people enough to know.” He came into the room, walking carefully so the chocolate wouldn’t slosh over the brims. “Why don’t you take that rocking chair beside the fire?”

  As Janet moved to the chair, she couldn’t help smiling. Big men looked so innocent when they were trying to be careful. Removing her coat, she leaned back in the chair. It made a rocking motion as if it knew exactly what to do. The feeling was so pleasant she continued rocking, stopping only long enough to take the cup from Dan.

  Her hand brushed against his, and for a second time that evening she felt a shock of awareness. She could think of absolutely no scientific reason why touching Dan Albany should make shivers run along her spine. Strange. She knew nothing about the man except that he loved dogs and had a cluttered house. She decided to find out more.

  As he settled into the chair opposite her, she took a sip of chocolate. “Your wife must stay awfully busy dusting all this... memorabilia.” She’d stopped herself just in time to keep from saying “junk.” Great. She was about as subtle as an elephant dancing on a souffle.

  His laugh was a happy roar that made the room seem brighter. “I’m not married, Doctor. Are you?”

  She took a long, fortifying drink of hot chocolate. “I don’t have time for marriage.”

  That statement—and the stiff-lipped way she said it—told Dan about all he needed to know. Dr. Janet Hall was definitely not a sweet, old-fashioned woman. And yet she looked so right beside his fire

  He repented his wicked, teasing ways and smiled at her. “I do the dusting myself, such as it is. But if I had a wife, she’d have nothing to do but dust and pamper me—and all the children.”

  “Children?”

  “About a hundred and twenty-five of them—each one special. They’re not mine, of course, except when they’re at school.”

  “You’re a teacher, then?”

  “Yes. Graden Junior High. Math.”

  Math, Janet thought. She perked up. Here was a man who at least understood the scientific mind, even if his house was a wreck.

  “Of course,” Dan added, “my first love is coaching.”

  “You’re a coach?”

  “Yes, soccer.” Dan leaned forward in his chair. “Do you think I’ll live, Doc?”

  “What?”

  He chuckled. “You looked so disconcerted that I couldn’t resist teasing you. It’s an old habit of mine. Comes from growing up in a large family. We were always kidding and carrying on with each other.”

  “A large family must be nice.”

  “I think so. Someday I’m going to have one myself.” He lifted the cup to his lips and watched her over the brim. Such elegant bone structure. “Of course, I have to find the right woman first.”

  “I suppose you have all sorts of requirements. Most men do.”

  Auburn hair would be nice, he thought as he watched the firelight play in hers. Brown eyes, too. Funny, he’d never thought about the color of his dream woman’s hair and eyes. He smiled at her.

  “Do you knit, Janet?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Knit. You know... make blankets and sweaters and things with yarn and those long needles that click.”

  “Goodness, no. I don’t have time to knit.”

  “I’ll bet you love to putter in the yard.”

  “My yard is about three times bigger than this teacup, thank goodness,” she said.

  “You’re probably the type who loves to relax by baking cookies on a cold, rainy day.”

  Janet set her cup on the table beside the rocking chair and laughed. Dan Albany was being about as subtle as she had been. She didn’t know why that should make her suddenly feel so good.

  “I don’t bake, I don’t knit and I don’t putter. Any other specifications, Dan Albany?”

  He laughed. “You caught me red-handed, Doc. I find myself attracted to you, and yet you’re the exact opposite of everything I’ve ever thought I wanted in a woman.”

  The silence stretched between them as they studied each other across the firelit room. She thought he was big and bold and hopelessly old-fashioned, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he spelled trouble.

  He thought she was vibrant and beautiful and ridiculously modern, and he was positive she’d turn his world upside down. It was best to put a stop to the battle before a war got started. He decided that the quickest way was to use the big artillery.

  Leaning back in his chair, he dropped the first bomb. “You’re absolutely not my type, at all.”

  Janet’s back stiffened. Every good impression she’d had about Dan Albany disappeared. Call it ego, call it overwork, call it any darned thing—she was insulted straight to the core by the arrogance of this man.

  “I wasn’t auditioning for the part.”

  “Are you angry, Doc?”

  “Angry? Why should I be angry?” She stood up so fast that the rocking chair kept rocking. “A soccer coach says I’m not his type. I should feel honored.”

  “A soccer coach?” Underneath the low-voiced question were the rattling of sabers and the sounding of the battle cry.

  She answered by firing a volley. “Excuse me. I should have said chauvinistic soccer coach.”

  He put down his cup and stood up with the slow grace of a born athlete. Although his movements were easy, his body gave the appearance of being wired for explosion. “Have you finished with the scientific analysis, Doctor?”

  “Not yet. Any man who expects only to have his furniture dusted and his ego pampered doesn’t deserve a good woman.”

  “I expect more.” He advanced toward her, war flags flying above the battlements. “Much, much more.”

  He was directly in front of her now, standing so close she could feel his body heat. She braced herself against the chair.

  “Of course,” she said. “I forgot the baking and knitting and puttering.”

  “You forgot this.” He caught her shoulders, fully intending to pull her into his arms and show her a thing or two about chauvinistic soccer coaches. But something stopped him. Perhaps it was the way she looked at him, the eyes widened just slightly—but not with fear. Instinctively he knew he was holding a woman who wouldn’t back down from the devil. The idea pleased him enormously.

  He gazed deep into her eyes, mesmerized by the challenge he saw there. No woman had ever made him feel quite so... he didn’t know any words to describe the way he felt. All he knew was that something warm unfurled inside him and he wanted to touch her, to feel the texture of her skin.

  He lifted one hand and cupped her cheek.

  Janet forced herself to stand stiffly. There was absolutely no logical reason to feel the way she did. He was just a man, and that was merely a hand on her face. But all the logic in the world didn
’t stop her pulse from quickening.

  His hand trailed across her cheek and gently traced the outline of her lips. Her nerve endings screamed, and a strange heat built in her body. Diagnosis—temporary insanity. Prognosis—curable. But not at the moment. For now she could do nothing but surrender to the persuasive power of Dan Albany.

  It was a small victory for Dan, and he pressed his advantage. He slid his hand back along her cheek and into her hair, that wine-rich hair that had beckoned him all evening. Catching the nape of her neck, he leaned closer until their lips were almost touching.

  She’d thought him big and bold and hopelessly old- fashioned. Now she added dangerous to his catalogue of sins. He made her think of cozy firelit evenings when the touch of a hand is magic. He made her consider passionate nights in a brass bed with rain tap-dancing on the roof and love flowing richly through the blood. He made her dream of orange blossoms and a nursery decorated in pink and blue.

  She must be going mad. She decided to quit while she still could.

  Janet raised her hands and pushed against his chest. He released her immediately and leaned casually against the mantel as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  “You’ve just proved my point, Coach. Only a man with a gigantic ego would manhandle a woman he barely met.”

  “I call it touching, Janet.” His smile was slow and easy. “And you accepted it.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “You enjoyed it.”

  “Like hell.”

  “Ladies don’t cuss.”

  “Add that to my list of shortcomings. I’m no lady.”

  “Did you know that your hair looks like burgundy wine in the firelight?”

  “Only a man of your supreme arrogance would believe that praising a woman’s looks excuses odious behavior.” Turning her back to him, Janet jerked her coat off the chair.

  Dan left the mantel and stood behind her. “Allow me.” His big hands covered hers.

  “I don’t need your help, thank you very much.”

  “My mama taught me that a gentleman always helps a lady with her coat—no matter how unladylike she acts.” He unceremoniously bundled her into the green raincoat.

  “A pity your mama didn’t teach you anything about subtlety.”