“They don’t need any training at all,” Zack said with great confidence. “And the meetings aren’t all that short. We take four or five trips a semester into Phoenix to nursing homes there. I provide the dogs, you provide the dogs’ partners, whose only job it is to take the dogs into different rooms and let them do their stuff.”
He lost Randi with the remark about meetings that weren’t short. She had a very full schedule this semester. She had a new cross-country coach to stay on top of and a budget that wasn’t going to stretch all the way. Plus, the athletic conference of which Montford was a part was completely reworking its policies this spring. And in her spare time, her focus had to be on recruiting for the basketball team so they weren’t a one-season wonder. She needed the gate money or she’d have to consider cutting the women’s gymnastics program.
Men’s gymnastics had already been cut to give women’s athletics a more equitable financial share.
“This is all very altruistic,” she said, knowing she should be stating her case more strongly—even while her tongue failed to do so. “But do you really think it’s worth the effort to take a bunch of kids into Phoenix when your time—and mine—is at such a premium?” She didn’t want to waste four or five afternoons on something as frivolous as pet therapy, but neither did she want to bring a frown to that face. She didn’t want to earn Zack Foster’s disregard.
Which made no sense at all. She hadn’t cowered before a man’s displeasure her entire life. A woman in athletics couldn’t afford to let men intimidate her. She’d never get anywhere. Randi lived in a man’s world and could hold her own with the best of them.
“I take it you aren’t thrilled with this appointment,” Zack drawled, a half smile on his face.
“Let’s just say I don’t have time to waste,” she answered curtly. It was the best comeback she could manage.
And it wasn’t all that good.
CHAPTER THREE
“WHAT MAKES YOU so sure the pet-therapy club would be a waste of time?”
She threw up a hand. “What’s an animal going to do for some frail old person that modern science and medication isn’t already doing? Except bring germs into an already fragile environment? Or scare them half to death.”
He sat back, hands steepled under his chin. “Germs?”
She was not going to be intimidated. His opinion of her mattered not at all. Her time did.
“Everyone knows that dogs, you know, lick themselves.”
“Yeah.”
“In, uh, inappropriate places.”
“They also have the cleanest mouths of just about any creature, including human beings. They excrete a natural antiseptic which is why, when they lick a wound, it heals faster.”
She hadn’t known that—exactly—but it still didn’t change her mind. “So how many old people need wounds licked?”
“It might also interest you to know,” he continued as though she hadn’t even spoken, “that it’s been scientifically proved that petting an animal—a dog—reduces blood pressure in people.”
He was a veterinarian. He’d dedicated his life to caring for beasts. He was supposed to say stuff like that. “So does medi—”
“Pets also provide relief from depression—a disease that abounds in nursing homes.”
Nothing a good psychiatrist couldn’t do.
“Listen, I’ll be honest with you,” she said. “I just don’t have the time this semester to chase off to Phoenix on the off chance that we’ll find some depressed old person with high blood pressure. An old person, moreover, who wants his privacy invaded by a college kid and a dog.” Put that way, the project sounded as invalid as she believed it to be.
He shrugged. “So get someone else to take your place.”
Didn’t he think she’d already tried that? “I can’t.” Having your brother as president of the university for which you worked definitely had its drawbacks.
“You’ve never had a pet, have you?” His smile slid all the way through her. Her legs were a little shaky now, too. Must be hunger. She had an energy bar out in her glove compartment that was calling to her.
“No.” And she didn’t want a pet. All that hair and slobber. Ugh. It gave her the willies just thinking about it.
Besides, dogs bit. Randi shuddered.
“This is probably a little forward, but I’d like a chance to convince you how worthwhile this program is. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
“Yes.”
No. I meant no.
“It’s a date, then.” He stood up before Randi could tell him she’d said the wrong word. She didn’t date. Before she could tell him she’d changed her mind, he said, “I’ll pick you up at six, if that’s okay with you. We can drive into Phoenix.”
A date. She didn’t remember how to go on a date. It’d been years since she’d even tried.
She had to tell him she’d said yes but meant no.
Somehow, Randi found herself back in her Jeep with absolutely nothing accomplished. The man had the strangest effect on her. She was still stuck with pet therapy. And there was another pressing problem on her horizon, as well.
She had twenty-four hours to find something to wear.
IT TOOK ABOUT ten minutes to wipe the smile off Zack’s face. What the hell was he doing?
So Randi Parsons was an attractive package. Her sexy long legs in those tight black shorts had been enough to wind him. And she was smart and sassy, too. But he’d been with several attractive intelligent women in the ten months since Dawn had filed for divorce. Had enjoyed them very much. He wasn’t in any way desperate for an attractive woman.
And he could sure as hell find one who offered a lot more promise—a lot less aggravation—than Randi Parsons. The woman hated animals.
And she was an athlete. Just like Barbara Sharp.
What did that make him? A masochist?
BECAUSE HE’D PLAYED CATCH with Sammie every night for the past five nights and the poor girl deserved a rest, Zack stopped by Ben and Tory Sanders’s apartment, instead. He had a sample bag of dog food for Buddy—the dog he’d talked Ben into adopting when the young man had first come to Shelter Valley the previous fall—and a free pass for Ben’s seven-year-old daughter, Alex, to take horseback riding lessons. The owner of the stable was a client of Zack’s.
“You two are looking good,” he said to his friends, married almost a month now, as he sat across from them in the living room. They were sitting about as close as they could sit without actually touching. Alex was in their bedroom, playing a video game that Tory had hooked up to their television for her.
Tory looked at Ben, smiled and then looked down.
“We’re doing great,” Ben said. “Thanks for the riding lessons,” he said, his eyes forthright as they met Zack’s. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was nothing.” The stable owner had been more than happy to pay part of his monthly bill with the lessons.
“Consider it rental payments for your truck all those times last fall when you drove me into Phoenix to pick up my furniture,” Zack told his friend.
“You got the whole place furnished yet?” Ben asked with a grin.
“Just about.” Zack took a sip of the lemonade Tory had served him. “The spare bedroom is still empty, and the office needs more than a desk, but otherwise, I’m done.”
Buddy came in from the bedroom, sniffed Zack’s shoes and then hopped into his lap.
“Buddy, down,” Ben ordered.
Buddy lay in Ben’s lap.
“Buddy, get down,” Tory said softly.
Buddy dropped to the floor and ambled over to lie down at Tory’s feet.
“It’s clear who’s the boss around here,” Zack teased his friend.
Ben leaned over, scratching the dog’s ears. “It’s about time to try those obedience classes again.”
“Not if you’re taking him,” Tory said with a grin.
“Leave him to Alex and me.”
Zack didn’t k
now Tory all that well, not only because she was relatively new to town, but because she was one of the most private people he’d ever met. Yet he couldn’t help liking her. She’d sure made Ben a happy man.
And she’d taken on Ben’s seven-year-old daughter, as well. That said a lot.
“So what’s going on with Tory and Montford U?” Zack asked a few minutes later when they’d all three grown quiet.
Tory had spent the previous semester posing as her sister, teaching classes at the university when she didn’t even have a college degree herself. She’d been driven to this desperate act by her abusive ex-husband, who’d murdered her sister, thinking he’d killed Tory. She was safe only as long as he believed her dead. He couldn’t tolerate the thought of her having a life without him. Eventually he’d committed suicide, and all the deception had come to an end.
“They aren’t pressing charges,” Tory said, no trace of a smile left on her face.
“Thank God.” Zack had been keeping his fingers crossed for his friends since he’d first heard the tragic story.
“That’s not all,” Ben added, with a glance at his wife. “They’ve given Tory a full scholarship to get her degree.”
“Congratulations!”
“Thanks.” Tory looked up at Ben, smiling, though her eyes were shadowed. “It’s still kind of hard to take in.”
“Won’t some of the students who sat in your class last semester wonder why you’re sitting in class with them now?”
Ben nodded. “The university is going to come out with the whole story—or an abridged version of it—the first week of class. Tory and I have already proofed the copy. They did a really nice job. It’ll be published in the university newspaper, so everyone’ll have a chance to read the story. That way they won’t ask too many questions—we hope.”
Zack nodded, fully aware that there was much of Tory’s background he didn’t know, might never know, but certain that she deserved these breaks, and more.
He glanced down the hall toward the master bedroom, making sure that Ben’s daughter wasn’t on her way in.
“Any word on Alex?” he asked. Ben was in the process of trying to adopt Alex. Though he’d raised her from the day she was born, believed her to be his, had his name on her birth certificate, he’d found out the previous year that he wasn’t Alex’s father at all.
He’d lost her for a time to her real father, an ex-con who’d taken his belt to the little girl. Ben had gotten her back right before Christmas.
Ben shook his head.
“These things take time,” Tory said, her hand reaching for her husband. “We’ve been in almost constant contact with the social worker and a nurse from Alex’s old school. Everything looks really promising.”
“She’s a very lucky—”
Zack’s words were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Who could that be?” Tory asked, frowning up at Ben.
Zack turned to see as his younger friend opened the door. He didn’t recognize the older, well-dressed couple standing there.
“Yes?” Ben asked politely.
“Are you Ben Sanders?” the man asked. His face was lined but looked friendly. The woman’s lips seemed to be trembling.
“Yes,” Ben answered immediately. “What can I do for you?”
Zack wondered if these people had something to do with Alex, maybe grandparents from her mother’s side. They’d better not be there to take the child away from Ben and Tory.
“We’re James and Carol Montford,” the older gentleman said, his voice hoarse. The aunt and uncle Ben had never met.
“He looks so much like the pictures of Grace,” Carol said to her husband, her eyes tearing up as she stared at Ben. “And like our Sam.”
That would be Samuel Montford IV, Cassie’s bastard of an ex-husband and the town founder’s namesake. Zack could only imagine what Ben must be feeling, finally meeting these people who were his only living family. Family meant everything to Ben, and until a few months before, he’d thought himself alone in the world.
Zack stood up.
“Won’t you come in?” Tory asked graciously, standing up, too.
On hearing her voice, Ben turned, glanced back at Tory. His eyes were blazing with emotion.
“Yes, please come in,” he finally said, pulling the door wider as he stepped aside. “It’s…I—”
“We won’t stay long,” Carol said gently. “We just couldn’t wait any longer to meet you.”
“We’ve been away,” Ben explained, showing them to the couch he and Tory had been sharing a short time before. “After the holidays Tory, Alex and I went back to California to get the rest of Alex’s belongings.”
The Montfords glanced curiously at Tory. “This is our new niece we’ve heard so much about?” Carol asked.
“Yes.” Ben drew Tory forward, though he released her almost immediately. “This is my wife, Tory.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Tory said, her tone reflecting the manners she’d learned as the wife of one of the richest men on the East Coast. Zack half expected to see her curtsy.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, dear. Better than nice. The Parsons have told me about you, and I’m thrilled to welcome you into the family. I only wish we could’ve been here for your wedding.” Zack was impressed by how deftly the older woman put Tory at ease. His friend’s wife had lived a hard life and rarely relaxed.
“We more or less eloped,” Ben threw in.
“We should give them a proper reception, Carol. The old house could use some livening up.”
“What a great idea!” Carol exclaimed. “We’ll let you kids get settled back into school and then plan something.” She looked beyond the adults to the empty room behind them. “Is little Alex here?” she asked wistfully. “It’s been so long since we had a child in the family.”
“She’s in the bedroom playing a video game she got for Christmas,” Tory answered. “I’ll go get her.”
As Tory left the room, Zack took the opportunity to excuse himself. Ben had been without family virtually his entire life. He deserved these moments alone with the couple who seemed completely ready to become the parents he’d never had.
There were times when life actually turned out right.
SHE COULDN’T GO. Someone would have to call him and tell him she wasn’t going.
Randi paced from her closet to the full-length mirror in her bathroom, looking at herself in her standard gym shorts and T-shirt, her white socks and tennis shoes. She wasn’t date material. She was too strong, too aggressive.
She didn’t know how to be sweet and gushy and girlish.
She couldn’t go.
She’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning. She couldn’t relax, couldn’t get Zack Foster off her mind. He’d caused sensations in her that she didn’t recognize. Had made her think about things she didn’t usually bother with. Sex, for instance.
She’d never obsessed about a man in her life.
And when she had drifted off, she’d had a horrible dream about sitting in a restaurant, being herself, enjoying herself, and glancing up to see a look of revulsion on Zack Foster’s face. Which alternated with indifference.
She couldn’t go.
Her hair was okay. She had to keep it short so it didn’t get in the way, but there was style to it. Bounce and casual curl. And the streaks of light blond mixed in with the darker blond were all natural. Her eyes were probably her best feature. Chocolate-brown—they were her older brother Will’s eyes. She was proud to have them.
With one last look at herself, Randi turned her back on her reflection and grabbed the phone from the nightstand in her bedroom.
“Becca?” she said as soon as her sister-in-law picked up the phone.
“Randi, I just called you, but you didn’t answer.”
“I’m not at school.”
“Where are you?” Will’s wife asked. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Randi said automatically
. Then she remembered the day, almost a year before, when Becca had shown up on her doorstep, desperate, unsure, frightened. Of everyone she knew in Shelter Valley, she’d come to Randi.
“Well… I’m home, not sick or anything, but I’m not exactly fine,” she clarified.
“What’s up?”
“First, you have to promise me that you won’t say anything to Will. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
“You know you can trust me.”
She did know that. Which was one reason she was on the phone at all. Becca was the epitome of discretion. It was Becca’s mother, Rose, who was the town gossip.
Of course, Rose was harmless, since much of her gossip bore only a minute resemblance to the truth, and everyone knew that.
“I’ve got a date tonight.”
“You do?” Becca couldn’t quite keep the excitement out of her voice, but Randi gave her full marks for effort.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, you have my permission to go. Just be home by midnight.”
“It’s with Zack Foster. He’s the new partner Cassie took on at the clinic last spring.”
“Oh?”
Randi almost smiled at the eagerness Becca was trying hard to conceal. Except that she felt so miserable smiling wasn’t currently an option.
“I can’t go,” she muttered.
“Why not?” There was curiosity and concern in Becca’s tone, though no condemnation.
Randi relaxed enough to sit down on the side of her bed.
“I don’t know, Bec,” she admitted. “I’ve only met the man once and he…he scares me.”
“Zack? I’ve seen him a couple of times and he’s big, I’ll grant you. But a teddy bear. Besides, since when have you ever let a man frighten you? I can remember when you were barely five years old and challenging your teenage brothers, fully believing you could take them on.”
“I could.” She did smile this time.
“Yeah, because you had them wrapped around your sweet little finger.”
“I could still take them on,” Randi asserted. She had learned a long time ago that the mind was a far more effective weapon than physical strength. When she’d been on the professional golf tour, before the accident that had squelched that particular dream, it hadn’t been the strength of her swing that had made her a winner. It had been the mental control and finesse that went along with her swing.
White Picket Fences Page 3
