Hitched For The Holidays: Hitched For The Holidays / A Groom In Her Stocking
Barbara Dunlop
Jennifer Drew
Hitched for the Holidays by Jennifer DrewAll she wants for Christmas…Expert organizer Mindy Ryder could use some professional help! Her father has decided he's visiting for Christmas, and he wants to meet Mindy's "boyfriend." Trouble is, she doesn't have one! Now she needs a man, and not just any man–a doctor. Eric Kincaid is the perfect candidate, even if he does treat four-legged, furry patients. She's not sure he's up to the task, but wouldn't mind getting hitched to this pet vet for the holidays!A Groom in Her Stocking by Barbara DunlopWhere else would he be!Lindsey Parker's financial career is looking up, up, up. And it's been how long since she's had a date? Forget dating–during Christmas vacation at a luxury northern resort Santa delivers not one, but two fiances to ol' skinny Linney. But RJ Webster, once her high-school nemesis, now a super-smooth local pilot, is determined to be the only groom in this gal's stocking!
Duets™
Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month!
Duets Vol. #89
Just in time for the holidays—a delightful Double Duets from USA TODAY bestselling author Jacqueline Diamond! Christmas and Cinderella are two of the fun themes in the aptly titled Cindy and the Fella and Calling All Glass Slippers. Ms. Diamond never fails to “make your head spin and leave you laughing…” says Rendezvous.
Duets Vol. #90
The celebrations continue with Hitched for the Holidays by well-known writing team Jennifer Drew. This talented duo always “gives readers a top-notch reading experience with vibrant characters…and spicy tension,” says Romantic Times. Rounding out the volume is popular Barbara Dunlop with the quirky A Groom in Her Stocking. Enjoy the fun when Santa delivers not one but two fiancés to the dateless heroine!
Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!
Hitched for the Holidays
Jennifer Drew
A Groom in Her Stocking
Barbara Dunlop
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Hitched for the Holidays (#u090f1558-cc9b-542d-ac0e-38bcfd208196)
Chapter 1 (#u92947371-13f4-5521-ac0d-12d6e93e9115)
Chapter 2 (#u319b7ac6-6d6a-5080-a140-0291f4f9ae5d)
Chapter 3 (#ud986ac51-0a97-5761-9e40-117744fbbc11)
Chapter 4 (#u0db6e1bb-08f6-5bf0-8921-630305259b3c)
Chapter 5 (#ua5a96699-0724-533c-9dd9-e847d912c8f7)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
A Groom in Her Stocking (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 2 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 3 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Hitched for the Holidays
“Silly to let all this tinsel go to waste.”
Eric reached for the box, grabbed a handful and dangled the silvery ribbon in the hollow between her breasts.
“I thought we were decorating the tree, not me,”
Mindy said breathlessly.
“You’re more fun.”
“It itches.” She giggled and tried to remove the tinsel.
“I’ll get it out for you.” He peeled off her sweater and tossed it in the direction of the ornament box.
Uh-oh, she’d forgotten she was wearing a plain cotton bra. It was about as unglamorous as lingerie could get.
“I didn’t dress for this.”
He held one breast in his hand and slowly covered her mouth with his as he caressed her through the cloth.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
Stop? As in red lights and no more kissing? She dropped her hands to his butt and squeezed.
“I’ll take that as a go,” he said with a laugh.
Dear Reader,
Who wouldn’t love having someone who could arrange everything perfectly for the holidays? Mindy Ryder is a professional organizer who’s thrown for a Yuletide loop when her neatly ordered life is turned upside down by a visit from her matchmaking father. She’s told him she’s been “seeing” a doctor…and she has been, sort of!
Vet Eric Kincaid is her dog’s doc. Mindy’s relationship with him is not romantic, at least not yet. She persuades Eric to play “Dr. Boyfriend” in return for some organizing help, and before the stockings are filled their agreement heats up!
One of us (Jennifer Drew is the pseudonym of mother and daughter Barbara Andrews and Pam Hanson) is a natural-born organizer. The other keeps buying “how to declutter your life” books and losing them in the debris! We hope you enjoy this mistletoe tale and that all your holidays are merry…and neat!
Happy holidays!
Jennifer Drew
P.S. Drop us a line with your favorite organizing hint! Please send it to P.O. Box 4084, Morgantown, WV 26504.
Books by Jennifer Drew
HARLEQUIN DUETS
7—TAMING LUKE
18—BABY LESSONS
45—MR. RIGHT UNDER HER NOSE
59—ONE BRIDE TOO MANY* (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE GROOM TO GO* (#litres_trial_promo)
72—STOP THE WEDDING!* (#litres_trial_promo)
80—JUST DESSERTS
Happy holidays, Aunt Lou!
1
“BABY, YOU ARE SOOO GOOD. We’re nearly there. Steady, sweetheart. Yes, yes, that’s it.”
Mindy Ryder shook her head to break the hypnotic spell of the melodic voice. For a moment she’d imagined Dr. Eric Kincaid was crooning to her instead of Peaches, her rascally Corgi. No wonder his waiting room was always full. He charmed his patients, and their owners, with his soothing voice. He’d opened his animal clinic less than two years ago, and already he had a reputation as one of the best small-pet vets in the Phoenix area. It made her day when she came to his office, and not just because her dog liked him.
“I don’t know, Mindy,” he said a trace apologetically, using her first name with casual friendliness. “Peaches seems a hundred percent healthy to me.”
“She was sneezing…” Mindy began, a little ashamed of using her dog as a ploy to see Dr. Kincaid. Now that she was here, she was losing her nerve anyway. “Sorry I wasted your time.”
“I’m always glad to see Peaches. She’s the only female Corgi on my patient list. Makes her pretty special.”
He smiled broadly and rubbed the short-legged dog’s thick white ruff. Peaches basked in his attention, quickly forgetting the indignities of the examination.
The veterinarian was wearing a sky-blue lab coat that picked up the color of his eyes, and his sandy blond hair was just long enough to look rumpled in a fresh-from-the-pillow way.
He attached the leash to the dog’s collar and made easy work of setting the thirty-pound pooch on the spotless white-tiled floor of the examining room. Mindy knew this signaled the end of the appointment, but she’d come for a purpose that had nothing to do with imaginary dog sneezes. If she chickened out now, she’d always wonder what his answer would have been.
The trouble was, she needed a man. What’s more, he had to be a doctor. The vet was the only bachelor she knew who qualified. Fortunately his receptionist, Della Rodriguez, was friendly and liked to chat. She’d leaked enough tidbits of information about her boss to make Mindy sure he was unattached and eligible. In fact, Della had dropped veiled hints that he’d been dumped by a woman and was nursing a broken heart.
If so, he was good at putting up a cheerful front. The man had a smile as bright as the desert sun and pearly white teeth that made his whole face sparkle with good humor. But even if he had teeth like walrus tusks and a Cyrano schnoz, she’d still need him.
She hadn’t exactly lied to her father, but this time he’d irritated her so much she’d fudged the truth. The trouble was he was bound and determined to see her happily married like her older brother.
It was wonderful Dwight had a wife and two adorable kids, but love was a special gift. So far all that had popped out of her annual Christmas stocking were trolls, geeks and ego-freaks like her last boyfriend. Mike Manning had wanted a fan club, not a significant other, and she’d had the pleasure of telling him to take a hike. Dad hadn’t met him, which was just as well. He was one guy who would’ve enjoyed her father’s usual third-degree interrogation. Talking about himself was what Mike liked best.
Dad had been on a tear lately, sure that Mindy’s biological clock was ticking like a time bomb, never mind that she was still two years short of thirty. He was lonely since her mother, Abby, had died, and he worried because she was alone, too. Unfortunately, he was too obsessed to pay any attention to her protests. He refused to believe she could manage just fine as a single woman.
When he’d suggested introducing her to a friend’s son a couple of months ago, she’d told him she was already seeing someone. Of course, he’d pressed for details. She’d taken Peaches to the vet for a shot the day he phoned, so she had seen a doctor—an animal doctor. Telling her father she was seeing a doctor had sort of slipped out because she wanted his badgering to stop.
As long as her widowed, workaholic father stayed in Pittsburgh, she could keep him at bay with her spur-of-the-moment deception. But the unimaginable had happened. He’d decided to retire early and sell his accounting business. Now he was coming to Arizona for a visit and expected to meet her doctor-boyfriend this weekend.
“Is there something else?” Dr. Kincaid asked, when she didn’t take the leash he was holding out to her.
“Oh, it’s silly,” she said, taking control of Peaches. “Just a little problem I have.”
“I’m afraid I’m not licensed to treat people,” he replied, radiating good humor.
“Oh, I didn’t mean…not a…you know.”
“It’s not a health problem?”
His curiosity was encouraging.
“No, not at all. It’s my father…”
“Ah.”
“He’s coming to visit. From Pittsburgh. He lost my mother five years ago in a car accident, and now he’s sold his business. I’m afraid I’m his new project.”
“I know what that’s like. My mother always has some scheme that involves me.”
“He’s a fanatic when it comes to my personal life,” she went on, encouraged by his sympathy. “My brother is married and has two kids, but that’s not enough grandchildren for my father. He won’t give up until he walks me down the aisle and gives me away.”
“My mother’s the same. I came close to tying the knot once, and she was the one who was broken-hearted when it didn’t work out. Her hobby is match-making, and I’m her main project.”
“Then you understand. Unfortunately my father never, ever liked anyone I used to date, so he wants to mastermind a courtship sweepstake with more grandkids for him as the prize.”
“Yeah, parents have a different take on things.” He hesitated as though examining the decorative paw prints on the wall. “My mother was crazy about my fiancée. Unfortunately Cassandra loved horses so much there wasn’t much room left for people, me included. Guess she just thought it would be handy to marry a vet who could look after her stable of Arabians.”
He leaned against the metal-topped examination table and focused on the chart of dog breeds on the wall behind her, maybe regretting saying so much to the owner of one of his patients. Then he met her eyes again and gave her a rueful smile. “I prefer working with smaller animals.”
Now she was much more interested in his problem than hers, but Dad would be getting off a plane in three days expecting to meet a boyfriend.
“I did a terrible thing,” she admitted, nervously twisting the leash around her fingers.
“I find that hard to believe.”
Again the thousand-watt smile. Did he have any idea how devastating it was?
“It was the day Peaches came in for her heartworm shot….”
“I remember that day. It was about three months ago, beginning of August, right?”
“Right. You have a good memory.”
“Sometimes.”
“Anyway, that’s the day he called and started talking about his favorite obsession—my marriage prospects. Had I found a ‘decent sort’ yet which translates to someone he won’t hate more than pickled beets or home shopping networks? I think he’s hated every boyfriend I’ve ever had!”
“I guess fathers can be too protective.”
“Can they! While he was talking, I remembered taking Peaches here for her shot. On impulse I told him I was seeing a doctor. After all, I had just seen you. I never dreamed he’d come before the end of tax time next April,” she babbled. “He’s an accountant, and that’s his usual vacation time. He always spends Christmas with my brother’s family. But he suddenly decided to retire early, and he’s coming to check on me.”
“Ah.”
Again the “ah.” She didn’t know whether he was sympathetic or eager to have her leave so he could see his next patient. He appeared to be giving her his full attention.
“Well, I’ve wasted enough of your time,” she said, her resolve melting under his gaze.
“You’re not the first.”
“What?”
“Not the first woman to make an unnecessary appointment for her pet.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, but his eyes were too all-knowing, too penetrating…
“No wonder,” he said, “when my mom, my aunts, even my receptionist have been recruiting bachelorettes for me since the breakup more than six months ago. One of Mom’s prospects even brought in a borrowed cockatoo to check me out.”
“How do you know?”
She was embarrassed to be busted, but glad she wasn’t the only one to book an unnecessary appointment as an excuse to see him. At least Peaches was a regular patient.
“I can recognize my own patients, even when someone besides the owner brings the bird for a visit.”
“I’m really sorry I bothered you,” she said, trying to lead Peaches toward the door.
The Corgi plopped down on her hindquarters, a trick six weeks of obedience school had done nothing to delete from her repertoire.
“So ask me,” the vet challenged.
“Ask you?” To compound her general embarrassment, her voice squeaked.
“What you came to ask me.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter.”
“It must matter a lot if you’re willing to pay for an appointment just to see me. If there’s something I can do…”
Her nerve failed her, in no small part because she didn’t want to be turned down. The man was gorgeous. He probably had a pack of women on his heels. He’d never go along with what she wanted.
“I’ve taken up too much of your time, and this is my busy season, as well. I’d better run.”
Would he think she was terrible if she nudged the stubborn dog with her foot? Peaches was acting as infatuated as a human female, sniffing at Dr. Kincaid’s thick-soled running shoe with zeal.
“You’re one of Santa’s elves?” he teased. “Rushing to get all the toys ready for Christmas?”
“Close,” she admitted, relaxing a little because he was so friendly in spite of her dumb idea of pretending Peaches was sick. “I’m a professional organizer. I have to take care of my clients’ needs as much as I can now because the month before Christmas I’m always booked solid.”
“What does a professional organizer do?” he asked, again with the sincere interest in his voice.
“Unclutter closets, rearrange rumpled rooms, fight disorder at its root level. I have parties to plan, trees to decorate, gifts to buy, whatever busy people don’t have time to do themselves. Hopefully, my father will make his usual short, restless visit and jet out again before my schedule is a shambles.”
“If he gets to meet your doctor.”
“There is that,” she said glumly.
“And you were hoping I would…”
“It was a dumb idea.”
“Spit it out, or I’ll have to charge you for two appointment slots.”
“That’s blackmail!”
“Yeah, it is, but you have me curious.”
“I need a doctor to go out to dinner with my father.”
“Your father and you?”
“Both of us.”
“He won’t believe unless he sees?”
“No way.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? Just like that, okay?”
“When?”
“Saturday. I pick him up at the airport around three in the afternoon. He hates flying, so he’ll be pooped. It will practically guarantee a short evening.”
“How about I pick you up at seven?”
“Would you? Really?”
She was so grateful she wanted to hug him. Scratch the grateful part. She wouldn’t mind a few hugs from her vet in shining armor even if he’d laughed at the idea of going out with her father and kicked her out of his office.
“It will be pretty hard to pass me off as a people doctor if you pick me up. I live here. The second floor of the clinic is my apartment. Makes it handy if I have overnight patients to check on.”
“I’m not going to pass you off as a physician. There’s nothing wrong with being a vet.” That didn’t come out quite the way she intended.
“I thank you. The vet school at Iowa State University thanks you. My profession thanks…”
“Please!” She gave the leash a tug Peaches couldn’t ignore.
“Give Della the directions to your place. You’ll make her day.”
He cut her off before she could start gushing again, but she wasn’t proud of what she’d done. She would have left with her tail between her legs if she had one. As it was, she slinked through the reception area, past the shelves of vitamins and pet supplies and the desk where Della Rodriguez managed the office.
Della’s flamboyant red, yellow and green print blouse was a splash of color in a room furnished in muted shades of desert tan, taupe and white, and her personality was as colorful as her outfit. Usually Mindy enjoyed her humorous take on life in general and her stories about her husband, Larry, in particular. Today Mindy wrote her check quickly and didn’t even ask about Della’s three grown kids or four grandchildren. She couldn’t get away fast enough, but fortunately she remembered to scribble directions to her home on the back of one of her business cards. She handed it to Della and beat a retreat before the woman could ask any questions.
Mindy had come on false pretenses and was sure she looked guilty. But she did have a date with a doctor to pacify her father. Eventually the little stab of guilt would fade away. The last thing she wanted was to deceive Dad, but he’d hated every boy who ever showed up at their door when she lived at home. He wanted a conservative, professional type for his daughter, a man whose values mirrored his. In other words, someone safe. Even in Arizona she couldn’t escape his mating machinations. He was sure to have an old college pal living there or a friend with a bachelor son in one of his accounting groups. If he met Eric and was reassured about her prospects, they could have a nice visit, and he could go home with his mind at ease about her prospects.
Imagine, Dr. Eric Kincaid was as nice to people as he was to animals.
ERIC TOSSED his lab coat in the hamper and turned off the light in the examining room. Della had gone home an hour ago to make dinner for her husband and whatever kids and grandkids happened to be around. Tonight he’d been glad to close the clinic himself. She was the best receptionist and bookkeeper he could possibly find, but no doubt she was dying of curiosity about the directions Mindy Ryder had left with her.
He sighed, thought of how good a shower would feel, and decided to run a couple of miles before he had dinner. There were no patients in the hospital wing of his clinic, so he could look forward to a night of uninterrupted sleep.
Instead of running upstairs to change, he did something he almost never did. He stopped in the reception room and sat on one of the taupe vinyl chairs, which were pet proof and comfortable enough to keep people from squirming if they had to wait long. He liked the room. The desert-sand walls were hung with oil portraits of dogs he’d painted himself and a few prints of cats, birds and fussy rodents to compensate for his canine bias. Several Formica tables with black metal legs held the usual assortment of magazines and brochures on pet care. An antique boot scraper shaped like a dachshund sat on the counter where Della presided over his busy practice.
By the time he finished his evening run, the cleaning service would be at work making sure his clinic looked and smelled fresh in the morning. The marbleized brown, tan and white floor tiles had to be swept and scrubbed nightly, a chore he could afford to pass on to professionals now that his practice was booming. This Iowa boy was doing all right in the sunbelt city, although it’d been pretty iffy the first year with payments on the clinic and vet school debts. He owed a lot to his parents for co-signing some whopping big loans, using their furniture store as collateral, to help him get started after his residency. It had been a good investment, and they’d moved from Des Moines to Mesa and opened a new, more upscale store to be closer to him.
Now if his mother would just get over Cassandra and stop trying to find someone else for him, he could breathe easier.
Sure, it had hurt for awhile after she broke off their engagement, although technically speaking, he’d never felt dumped. He saw it coming and decided it was the best thing that could happen. Cass had too much money for her own good, and all she really cared about was making a splash with the horsey set at her country club.
He’d been a little slow getting her number, dazzled by dark auburn hair, creamy skin and a curvy body that turned him on every time she sat on a horse.
She also looked down her nose at his humble little practice and had grandiose plans to make him the vet in charge of her stable of Arabians, a job she insisted wouldn’t allow any time for cats and dogs.
Eric stood, stretched and headed upstairs through the private door to change in his second-floor apartment. He was only thirty, but bachelorhood suited him. He didn’t want his professional life complicated by personal relationships. He had worked too hard to get where he was to let himself be remade by Cass, or any other woman—especially a patient’s owner.
He never dated his patients’ owners. Never…
So, he’d really stepped into it today by agreeing to help Mindy. But he didn’t regret his moment of weakness. He honestly sympathized with her, considering his own mother’s quest to hunt down a potential wife for him.
Besides, Mindy was friendly and cute. Her personality sparkled, and it made his day when she brought Peaches to see him. For the first time since his breakup with Cass, he had a genuine case of the hots. Mixing his professional and personal life was still a bad idea, but he couldn’t help imagining how it would feel to get up close and personal with the gorgeous brunette. Of course the downside was now he had to have dinner with her overbearing father.
At the top of the stairs he stripped off the T-shirt he wore under his lab coat and rubbed the moist, matted hair on chest. Even though it was late fall, the cool season, his second-floor apartment felt warm and stuffy. He slid open the balcony door and looked out at a vista not exactly devoid of human habitation, but sparsely populated enough to suggest desert wilderness. True, he could see a cluster of mobile homes to the left, but Chandler was as close as he could get to open country and still have his clinic easily accessible to the metro area.
He was procrastinating. No supper for him until he ran, and he was ravenous. He’d spent too much time with Mindy and perfectly healthy Peaches, so he’d compensated by skipping lunch, not something he did often.
Back inside, he stripped to his briefs and put on his yellow running shorts, a white tank top, heavy crew socks and a new pair of running shoes he was still breaking in.
Darn, he wasn’t in the mood to go jogging. His spacious, high-ceilinged living room was too inviting. His two huge couches upholstered in caramel, sand and ruddy stripes enticed him to lounge in front of the TV and do nothing for a rare change.
Maybe he’d overdone it a little on the Southwest motif in his decor, but he loved this room with the adobe-red tiled floor, stark white plaster, and red, black and yellow Navaho rug hanging on the wall. Since he’d had the clinic built to his specifications, he opted to have one large all-purpose room with only his bedroom and bathroom partitioned. He got wonderful light from a skylight in the roof that could be shaded in the heat of summer.
He made himself leave his lair, knowing much of his reluctance to run this evening was because of his habit of mulling over his day as he worked out. He was pretty sure he’d goofed with Mindy, and it was his own fault. If he’d wanted to date her, he should have been upfront with her. Had Cass shattered his confidence so much he was using professional concerns to keep a desirable woman at arm’s length? He didn’t think so, but he didn’t seem to have enough incentive to jumpstart his social life.
All Mindy wanted was to get off the hook with her father, he thought as he locked the clinic and put the key in his fanny pack. He had no reason to believe she was the least bit interested in him. She was so darn cute, she probably had no trouble meeting men. From what she said, though, it sounded like none met Daddy’s high standards.
He stepped out into the cooling evening and decided to keep to the main road since it would be dark before he got back.
“Admit it,” he mumbled to himself. “You could easily get hot and bothered by her.”
She was petite, not over five-three, with short sable hair. It looked silky soft, like the undercoat of her Corgi, probably not a comparison she would have found flattering. He wasn’t sure about her eye color. At the first appointment, he would have said hazel, but there was no ignoring the flash of green he’d noticed today. She didn’t have as much front and center or on her hindquarters as Cassandra, but then his ex-fiancée wasn’t the type he usually liked. He was a sucker for heart-shaped faces and small waists. Something he’d have to forget on this pretend date with a patient’s owner.
Had he set himself up to play doctor for Mindy because he was a nice guy or because he regretted not acting on the attraction he felt for her?
It was still early in his run, but he pushed himself hard, the slap of his soles on the blacktop setting up a rhythm in his head: dumb idea, dumb idea, dumb idea.
What if this date with Daddy was only a ploy to start something with him? Did he mind losing the initiative if she was interested in him? He didn’t, as a rule, like being chased at all.
On the other hand, he thought, slowing down to his usual steady pace to catch his breath, he was no monk. There hadn’t been anyone since Cassandra….
“Bad idea,” he said aloud. Starting something with a patient’s owner was still an invitation for trouble. Mindy was cute and cuddly, but she seemed to be the kind of woman who wanted to get engaged and married. He certainly wasn’t ready for any serious relationship, not after his big mistake with Cass. Maybe he never would be.
At least he could tell his mother he had a date. She’d been talking a lot about a new salesperson at the store, divorced but no kids. His mom seemed to know an endless parade of eligible females, and she was severely afflicted with grandchild-itis. He wished, not for the first time, that he wasn’t an only child.
“Sorry, Mom, I’m seeing someone. I have a date this Saturday,” he said under his breath.
2
“DON’T LOOK AT ME THAT way! I know it’s a lousy idea, but it’s too late to call it off.”
Mindy finished changing earrings for the third time and stared at the little silver-and-turquoise donkeys dangling from her lobes.
“See, told you these are better. It’s not easy dressing for a date who’s only doing me a favor.”
Peaches responded with a big doggie yawn and stretched her short white legs as far as she could on her special end-of-the-bed quilt made from salvaged remnants of blue jeans, a gift from Mindy’s sister-in-law, Carly.
Her father had opted for a nap in the spare bedroom she’d hastily cleared for his use. Now all the paraphernalia of her business was stacked in her own bedroom. To get to the closet she had to maneuver an obstacle course between catalogs, models of storage units and piles of magazines and books. Thank heavens her clients couldn’t see this mess. Her personal space looked like a recycling center.
She picked her way around boxes of junk sure to come in handy someday to the full-length mirror on her bathroom door. Dad would expect her to look spectacular for the doctor-boyfriend, but what kind of signal would that send to the shanghaied vet? She didn’t want him to think this mock date was a ploy to attract his attention.
Hopefully, she’d hit a happy medium. Her silky scooped-necked turquoise dress flared at midcalf and had tiny cap sleeves. She’d added a delicate silver belt and silvery-gray spike heels. Maybe she was overdressed for a casual evening out, but the donkey earrings said she was only kidding.
“Darn, I need a haircut,” she complained to Peaches, who was trying to nap through the ritual of dressing. “Yeah, pretend to sleep, you lazy hairball. I know those big ears of yours are picking up every word I say. You’re sulking because you don’t have a date with Dr. Eric.”
At least Mindy liked the color of her hair—dark sable, cropped short, but the fashionable spikes seemed limp in spite of the salon special wax.
Did the turquoise enhance or clash with the green glints in her eyes? Was she out of her mind fussing over what she wore on a pretend date orchestrated to keep her father from meddling in her love life or lack thereof?
The door chimes startled her, which was ludicrous since she’d spent the past hour anticipating Eric’s arrival. Peaches bounded off the bed with more agility than her short legs suggested and stood impatiently, nose to the door, waiting for Mindy to open it.
“Now don’t slobber, shed or jump on Dr. Eric,” she warned sternly. “I don’t want to look for a new vet because you can’t behave.”
She hadn’t exactly looked for the one she had. When Peaches was a pup, she’d taken her to a busy clinic where the wait was always considerably longer than the appointment. A client had raved about a new vet in Chandler, which wasn’t unreasonably far from Tempe, where Mindy lived. The rest was history. Peaches loved her new doctor and stopped trying to amputate a finger or two during exams.
As soon as the bedroom door opened, Peaches was a streak of brindled tan and white racing to the front door, nails clicking on the red-tiled hallway.
“Now behave!” Mindy whispered sternly before she opened the front door. She might as well tell a dust storm to settle down.
Where was Dad? If he’d overslept, she’d have to make small talk. Wouldn’t that be awkward! What could she say to a man she’d coerced into pretending to be the love of her life?
She grabbed Peaches’s collar with one hand and opened the door with the other.
“Hi. I knew this was the right place when I heard Peaches,” her date for the evening said.
“Dr. Kincaid, I’m glad you found it okay.”
It was a wonder anyone ever found her little patio house in the huge development of similar white-stuccoed bungalows. The streets curved and meandered with a total absence of memorable landmarks. If it weren’t for the black wrought-iron street numbers on the ruddy-orange front doors, she might get confused herself.
“No problem.” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Shouldn’t you call me Eric?”
“Oh, right, thanks.” She spoke softly and looked over her shoulder. No sign of her dad. “Please, come in.”
“Nice plants.” He gestured at the big earthenware pots flanking her flagstone walk. “I like natural desert, sand and cacti. Why come to the Southwest and try to grow a lawn?”
He stepped inside and casually walked into her living room on the north side of the house. The big picture window faced west and gave her a great view of sunsets, but it meant the bedrooms at the rear caught the early-morning sun and woke her up before any sane, civilized person should stir.
She’d opted for a simple decor, as much from poverty as design. The windows had pale green slat blinds, but no curtains. The red-tiled floor was bare throughout the front of the house, except for a round braided rug in the living room, one of her few new purchases after buying the house a couple of years ago. The bright greens and yellows made her gray pseudo-suede couch and recliner seem less drab in their new setting. The thrift-shop tables she’d re-painted mustard yellow and emerald green were kitschy but cheerful. She was still in the process of finding art for the walls, a search stymied by lack of time and money. For now, a few castoff flower prints a friend had given her hung over the couch, leaving the rest of the rough-plastered white walls unadorned.
“Nice place,” he said, standing beside the couch which she’d forgotten to vacuum free of doggie hair. Fortunately it wouldn’t show much on his pale yellow short-sleeved dress shirt or tan chinos if he decided to sit down.
He was wearing a tie, bright green with tiny Scottie dogs silhouetted in black. No doubt it was the kind of gift people gave vets, cute but not too cutesy. Trouble was, he’d clearly been in a rush as it was tied wrong with the bottom length hanging longer than the top.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, wondering where the heck her father was. He was so darn eager to meet The Boyfriend. Why wasn’t he ready to go to dinner? “I have diet cola, lite beer, mineral water and a bottle of champagne Dad brought to…”
She nearly said “celebrate.” More specifically, her father hoped to toast her engagement with the bubbly, although she’d never, ever given him reason to believe her nonexistent romance had progressed that far.
“Where is your father?” he asked.
“He took a nap.” Scratch her hope for a short evening. “Guess I should knock on the door to be sure he’s awake.”
“I’m awake and eager to meet your young man,” Wayne Ryder said, coming out of the guest bedroom and into the kitchen.
How could he say something that corny? She tried to cut him some slack because he’d never fully recovered from losing her mother in an auto accident nearly five years ago, but sometimes he talked as though the twentieth century had never come and gone. He’d definitely prefer to live in an age when fathers arranged marriages for their daughters.
“Eric Kincaid, sir.” He offered his hand with a deference that made her want to hug him.
“Eric, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Just call me Wayne.”
“My pleasure, Wayne, sir.”
Mindy wasn’t fooled. Her father was the alpha male locking horns with a young buck. He might approve of her new boyfriend in theory, but he was gearing up to interrogate him in the best—make that worst—CIA tradition. If she ever did find the right man, she was going to elope before her father got wind of him.
When he wasn’t confronted with her male friends, her dad was a sweetheart in spite of being too rigid. He wanted the best for her, but her future husband had to meet his impossibly high standards.
“Well, Mindy, let’s break open that bottle of bubbly before we go,” he said.
Dad had left all twenty or so of his business suits in shades of black, gray and navy at home. He’d gotten into the Southwestern spirit by wearing jeans and a navy knit shirt with a collar. He was even sporting a bolo tie, but his attempt to look casual was spoiled by his black wing tips. It didn’t really matter. Her father looked like an accountant even when he wore a bathing suit. Neither tall nor short, he was lean and slope-shouldered with the bland looks that made him easily forgettable. His face was long and narrow, always clean-shaven with smooth skin. Only the vertical lines on either side of his mouth gave away his age, those and the fact that his gray-brown hair barely covered his scalp, although a side part and a good haircut gave the illusion that he still had a head of hair.
“I’ll pass on that, sir…Wayne,” Eric said. “Mindy and I decided to take both cars tonight in case I’m paged.”
His excuse sounded lame to her, but Dad seemed to like it. A busy doctor had to stay sober and alert.
“Well, what do you say we get going then?” her father said, giving them their marching orders.
They filed out with Peaches dancing around their heels hoping to be included.
Mindy waited until the two men were out of hearing then hissed at her disappointed pet. “You’re the lucky one! You get to stay home.”
Her father went to the carport and got behind the wheel of her second-hand van with Ryder Reorganizing Inc. painted on the sides. He was going to follow the two of them, naturally expecting her to ride there in Eric’s dark red Tracker.
One thing was still bothering her.
“Ah, Eric, would you do me a tremendous favor?” she asked, coming around to the driver’s side of his vehicle before he got in.
His look suggested he already was, but he only shrugged.
“Your tie.”
“My tie?” He looked down at the black Scotties cavorting on green silk. “Too dressy for where we’re going?”
“Oh, no, it’s perfect. I love it. I just have this compulsion—well, maybe compulsion is too strong—but would you mind terribly if I fixed it?”
“Fixed it?” His hand shot up and tested the firm knot at his throat.
“Not fixed exactly, but I don’t want to be distracted by your long end. My dad is so sharp, I’ll have to be on guard every minute.”
“My long end? You’ve lost me,” he said.
“The skinny end is hanging lower than the top. I don’t want to be picky, but it would look so nice if…”
He lifted the two ends of the tie and frowned.
“Here, let me,” she said, wishing she’d never mentioned it.
Her fingers were nimble, at least her mother used to say so. She loosened the knot and pulled gently until the full part of the tie hung the right way. Then she tightened the knot and tucked it between the tips of his collar.
“It’s an adorable—no, make that handsome—tie. I’ve never seen one like it.”
Of course, she never bought men’s ties unless a client sent her shopping. Her brother, Dwight, much preferred a book or a tape as a gift, and her father’s taste was so ultraconservative she’d accused him of buying his ties by the dozen, each identical to all the others he owned.
“My ex-fiancée was into cute,” he said dryly. ‘This is the first time I’ve worn it.”
“Oh.”
Talk about stepping into a pile of doo-doo. He would probably bribe a waiter to ring his pager ten minutes into the meal. At least her father was leaving Monday. She only had to get through two full days of his questions, and there were all kinds of reasons why a busy doctor couldn’t spend time with his “girlfriend” on the weekend.
“Well, it is a cute tie,” she said, hurrying round to the passenger side before he changed his mind about going.
The ride to the restaurant was the longest twenty-three minutes of her life.
What had made her try to reorganize Eric? Fussing with his tie was so intimate, so intrusive, so dumb. But she did like being close to him. He smelled of vanilla with a touch of spice, and she’d never noticed how sexy his lips were. Of course, she could think of a better use for that pucker than signaling his irritation.
“I’m sorry about the tie,” she said as they pulled up to the trendy steakhouse with a great view of the Camelback Mountains. “I fidget when I’m nervous.”
“No problem,” he said, opening his door and walking around the vehicle.
He helped her out of the car and handed his keys to the valet.
“It’s what I do for a living. Organize things. Closets, drawers, parties, you name it.”
“Yes, you told me during Peaches’s last visit.” He looked directly at her and smiled. “Don’t worry. This will go okay. Your father seems like a nice guy, not an ogre anyway.”
“Yeah, not an ogre,” she said hopefully, crossing her fingers where he couldn’t see them.
Mindy had never been to Mountain Monty’s, but it was one of those restaurants that made all the tourists’ guidebooks. She should have read one before making the reservation. The first rule of the steakhouse was no neckties. Her father had to surrender the bolo he imagined made him look like a native, and Eric handed over the doggie tie she’d straightened.
A scantily clad hostess dressed in abbreviated saloon-gal garb with a panty-level denim skirt and a vest covering not much of anything, put the ties in a plastic bag and promised their return.
“Mountain Monty can’t stand the sight of a noose, not even one with cute little doggies,” she said, giving Eric a smile so broad it nearly cracked her cheeks. “It’ll be about thirty minutes if y’all would like to wait in the lounge.”
So much for reservations, Mindy thought glumly as her father took on the job of host and ushered them into an area too dark for the old-west decor to be totally cloying.
“The evening’s on me,” Dad said expansively. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time, Eric. Mindy’s told me a lot about you, all good.”
She’d told him zilch except for the part about being a doctor, but how could she begrudge her father a little exaggeration after telling him the whopper of her life?
“That’s good to hear.” Eric smiled warmly at her.
They settled down, really far down, on a low semi-circular couch in the corner with a tiny table. A server appeared instantly and took their orders: a beer for Dad, white wine for her and a club soda with lime for Eric. Was he going to play the sober doctor all evening, or didn’t he imbibe? She knew so little about him, this evening was going to be massively stressful.
“Tell me, Eric…” her dad began.
She was going to hate those words before the dinner was over unless, of course, her “date” bailed before the entrée.
“Are you a native of Phoenix?” Wayne asked.
“No, I’m an Iowa boy.” He said it with pride. “I came here a couple of years ago to set up my practice.”
“Guess it’s a good place for health practitioners. Aging population and all. I didn’t want Mindy to go to Arizona State when we visited out here. Plenty of good colleges in Pennsylvania. But she liked it well enough to stay. Now that I’m retired I’ll have time to check it out for myself.”
“If you don’t mind the hot summers, it’s great,” Eric said.
Great conversation, Mindy noted. Weather, the dullest and safest of subjects. She jumped in with a few anecdotes about melting makeup and sun-dried skin. Her stories tanked, but they helped kill time until they finally got called for dinner. What had seemed like two hours in the lounge had really been fourteen minutes. This was going to be one whopping long ordeal.
The Old West really came alive with a vengeance in the huge dining room. Long wooden tables for ten were covered with blue-and-white checked tablecloths. Customers sat on benches with thick log legs and no backs. It reminded Mindy of a family reunion with someone else’s relatives. At least the noisy group of six senior-plus citizens at the other end of their table reduced their conversation to spotty exchanges of menu information.
“How about it, honey,” Eric said, resting his hand on her shoulder. “I’ve heard their mesquite grilled steaks are the best. They have a porterhouse for two if you’re up for sharing.”
He massaged the back of her neck with his fingers, a deliciously intimate gesture that made her father look at the cowhide menu with a disapproving scowl. If Eric had acted too cool toward her, her dad would have criticized that later, too!
Eric dropped his hand when she squirmed but only to hide it under the table where, her father would assume, he could feel her up under cover of the blue-and-white cloth. Actually he kept a decorous inch or so between their thighs, resting his hand on his own, not hers.
Overhead the wooden ceiling looked smoky dark in contrast to the white plaster wall beneath it. A country band filed out to a small stage near the middle of the far wall, and a deep bass voice started moaning about the wicked woman who didn’t know how to love just one man. At least it kept conversation to a minimum.
They gave their orders to a jean-clad male server in a flannel shirt too hot for the room. After an eternity of shouting at each other across the table, their appetizers came and the band took a break.
They had salads topped by the house dressing, in bowls large enough to mix up a cake, and red wine spicy enough to make her hair stand on end. Her father sliced bread from a loaf of homemade sourdough and, when she was full enough to call it a night, the main course arrived.
The porterhouse for two was smothered in mushrooms, onions and a peppery sauce, cooked to a delicate pink and served with a baked potato on steroids. Her father had pork ribs and cowboy beans delivered in a brown ceramic pot large enough to plant a tree in it. The idea was, she supposed, to eat one meal here and take home enough leftovers for three or four more in handy foam cartons. At least she wouldn’t have to cook all weekend.
The seniors sharing their table finally left carrying enough leftovers to feed a football team, and she could sense her father’s relief. Now they could have a real chat and hear each other.
“You don’t know how happy I am to meet you, Eric,” he said in the tone of a magistrate reading a prisoner’s sentence. “I tell you, my little girl’s choice of friends has given me some anxious moments in the past.”
“Please, Dad, let Eric enjoy his dinner.”
“Oh, I’m enjoying it,” he said wickedly.
“Can you believe, when she was sixteen some guy came roaring up to the house on a motorcycle with Mindy on the back?”
“I was wearing a helmet,” she said dryly, giving up on the big slab of cow on her plate.
“They wanted to get matching his and hers tattoos. I was supposed to sign a permission slip because she was under eighteen. I told him he’d be getting his tattoo in the state pen if he didn’t get lost.”
“Pen” was her father’s idea of talking the talk. If she and Eric really were an item, she’d want to crawl under the table.
“It got worse,” Wayne went on. “She brought one idiot home from college her first Christmas break. He was into conspiracy theories. Thought Kennedy had been shot by some baseball player.”
“He was a philosophy major. He enjoyed theoretical problems. Anyway, I was sure I could change some of his radical ideas. He was really nice, if you’d only given him a chance. It was wicked of you to make fun of his ideas.”
“He was a jerk.”
“Daddy! He had great potential. Anyway, Eric knows all about me, and he doesn’t want to hear your prejudiced opinions about a boy you scared away.”
“What is that nut doing now?” her father asked, never one to give up on a subject until he’d fully vented.
“I wouldn’t know.”
This was her year to lie, which made her feel anything but good. There was no way, though, that she was going to tell her father that an old boyfriend had lost everything when his dotcom company went under and was now part owner of a mall taco stand, something she’d accidentally discovered.
“How about you, Eric?” Wayne said. “Have you been married?”
He meant, are you really a married man out to seduce my innocent daughter and ruin her life?
“No, I came close once, but it didn’t work out.”
“Happens sometimes.”
He meant that a good prospect like the doc was better off with his daughter. She could read her father like a supermarket tabloid. Would this evening never end?
Eric looked at his watch, a complicated one with lots of extras, great if you wanted to know what time it was in Siberia. Big mistake. Her father had spent his career working with tiny details like commas. He didn’t miss Eric’s sneak peek.
“Are we keeping you from something?” he asked. He was eating his beans two or three at a time, stretching out the interrogation in spite of hovering busboys eager to clear.
“No, not at all, Wayne, but I may have to help with a delivery later tonight. The bitch has had a hard time of it in the past….”
Whoops! Mindy grabbed his thigh under the tablecloth and squeezed, but it was too late.
“You call your patient a…” Wayne sputtered.
“Dad, you must have misunderstood. Eric isn’t a human doctor,” she tried to explain, her face getting hot.
“I’m human, but my patients aren’t,” he said, trying for humor, but striking out with Dad.
“He’s a vet…a veterinarian.” She said it so emphatically people for tables around stopped eating to eavesdrop.
“Hey, there’s a friend of mine.” Eric stood up and gestured wildly to a man and woman just entering the dining room.
As the couple made their way toward them, Mindy tried to gauge how her father was taking the vet news. He was stone-faced, fussily scraping beans away from the side of the pot.
A tall lanky man with a hawkish nose and a broad smile stopped by their table, a short strawberry blonde hanging on his arm.
“Wayne, this is Guy Dillard and Tammy Jamison. Wayne is Mindy’s father,” Eric said. “Guy is one of the first people I met after I moved here. He’s a pharmaceuticals rep.”
The three men did the hand squeezing thing, her father making it a contest.
“Where’ve you been keeping this gorgeous woman?” Guy asked, ignoring his pouting date.
“We’ve both been busy at work,” Eric said, valiantly trying to make it sound as though the couple already knew her. “The four of us will have to get together soon.”
“I’m hungry,” Tammy whined and pulled Guy toward the waiting hostess. They moved on after a quick nice-meeting-you routine. Mindy couldn’t tell what her father was thinking.
“How long have you two been seeing each other?” Wayne asked.
“Quite awhile,” Eric said.
“More than a year,” she could honestly say, thinking back to Peaches’s first appointment.
“I’m pretty sure you never mentioned Eric is a vet,” he doggedly insisted.
“I have my own practice. Specialize in small animals, especially dogs.”
“Good profession,” her father grudgingly admitted. “Now, about tomorrow. I thought the three of us could do some sight-seeing. I’d like to visit some ancient ruins.”
“I don’t think Eric’s free, but I’d love to take you north to Walnut Canyon or Montezuma’s Well,” Mindy said.
To Eric’s credit, he didn’t even blink.
“I’ll have to see how my patient does,” he said. “Well, I have to run and make sure everything’s okay at the clinic. I’ll call you, sweetheart.”
He stood, shook her father’s hand, thanked him for the dinner, and planted a warm, unexpected kiss on the corner of her mouth.
“Your leftovers…” she gasped.
“Take them to your place,” he said, then practically sprinted away.
He did turn and wave before he was out of sight. She couldn’t have asked for a better performance.
3
ERIC GOT IN LINE to claim his vehicle, a process slowed by a platinum blonde with a face as rigid as porcelain from too much plastic surgery. The woman insisted on giving detailed instructions to a red-jacketed kid on how to deliver her Mercedes. A rotund man beside her looked bored and gave a long-suffering sigh.
Eric would prefer to get the SUV himself, but even if he had the key, it was probably blocked by other cars in the tightly packed lot east of the restaurant. Unfortunately, people were leaving in droves, and four or five drivers were ahead of him. If the pair of attendants didn’t hustle, he’d have to say goodbye to Wayne all over again.
He could see why Mindy needed someone to palm off as a boyfriend. Her father had changed from a nice, normal guy to a fascist meddler when the subject of her relationships came up. No wonder she’d escaped to Arizona for college and stayed there. She certainly seemed like a woman who could run her own life.
A lead-footed valet delivered a sky-blue Cadillac, and Eric moved a couple of steps closer to the podium where they kept the keys. He rolled his claim slip and a five-dollar bill for the tip between his palms and remembered his tie.
He could go back for it and lose his turn, but he’d probably never wear it again anyway. He was way over Cassandra and knew he never should have gotten involved with her in the first place. They had met when she hit a dog that ran out into the road. He’d been driving behind her and stopped to help. He had saved the dog, got engaged to the horse fanatic and spent a frustrating six months trying to convince her he didn’t want to give up his practice and be her live-in horse-doctor.
He’d die a grizzled old bachelor before he let another woman try to make him over.
“Eric, glad I caught you!”
He turned to see Mindy hurrying toward him, the tie she’d insisted on retying for him dangling from her fingertips.
“Thanks,” he said with feigned enthusiasm as he accepted it.
“I wanted to thank you. Dad likes you.”
“Good. Where is he?”
“He went out on the back patio for a better look at the view while I get the van. I can never thank you enough. He grudgingly admitted you might be okay even if you are an animal doctor. Coming from him, that’s better than an Emmy, an Oscar and the Nobel Peace Prize wrapped into one. Well, I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate what you did.”
“My pleasure.”
“Oh, and sorry about your tie.”
“I probably won’t wear it again,” he admitted. “A little too cute for me.”
“No, I mean I’m sorry about straightening it. When I’m nervous…”
“I know. You fuss.”
“Well, I’ll see you again when Peaches needs to see a vet,” she said.
He smiled weakly, determined not to encourage her but hard-pressed not to respond eagerly. She was a patient’s owner, and he didn’t mix business with pleasure, not since that starry night when Cass had overwhelmed him with gratitude for saving her from a guilty conscience. The dog she hit turned out to be a cherished pet, and she hated to be in the wrong even when she was.
“It was a great dinner.” He had to say something since they were trapped together by slow valet service.
“Yes, enough food for a week. Are you sure you don’t want any leftovers? Dad has them.”
“No, no thanks.” He tried, but couldn’t think of any neutral conversation topic.
The big surprise of the evening was hearing about her abysmal record with men. Unless her father was a full-blown liar, she specialized in loonies and losers.
She was attracted to men she could make over, he realized, wishing she wasn’t so darn cute. Besides being dark-haired and adorable, she had perfect palm-size breasts, a slender waist that made him ache to take her in his arms and a butt that would nicely fit his lap.
“When you see him coming, tell me,” he said impulsively. “We should maybe, you know, kiss good-night.”
“He’s coming toward us now, but I don’t know if we should. All these people…”
She didn’t exactly say no, so he went for it anyway. He wrapped one arm around her shoulder and dropped his free hand low on her back, his fingers brushing the delectable little hollow at the end of her spine.
He’d have to be numb from the neck down to pass up the startled O of her mouth. Daddy wanted a man for his daughter? Let him mull over this on the way back to Pittsburgh.
He gave her a hard, noisy kiss that knocked her off balance on the spiky heels she was wearing and forced her to grab his arms to keep from tottering.
“Thank you,” she whispered breathlessly.
“Anytime.”
That was the most stupid thing he’d said since he proposed to Cass. He backed away feeling scorched and silly. Her father wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the robust kiss. He’d provided entertainment for the bored diners waiting for their vehicles and deserved their amused titters.
“Good night, Wayne. Thanks again for the dinner,” he called over to her father as he hurried to the podium where, thankfully, it was his turn.
Tipping the valet double for letting him go to the lot with him, he got in his car and headed home. His next appointment with Peaches was going to be damned awkward after the chemistry of that kiss.
Eric called the Drummonds as soon as he got back to his office and was pleased to hear their border collie had given birth to five healthy pups without the difficulties of her first litter. He wouldn’t have to go out tonight.
It was too early for bed, and he was too restless to catch up on reading his professional journals. He checked the TV listings and decided he didn’t feel like watching some animal nut risk his life for the camera. He was always leery of shows that inspired kids to make friends with the neighborhood rattler.
He could pay the household bills or run a load of laundry, but it would take more than domestic drudgery to get his mind off Mindy. Funny, during her visits to the office with Peaches he’d never noticed the little dimple in her right cheek that showed when she smiled.
He wandered into his bedroom in his second-floor quarters. His mother had decorated the room where he slept as a housewarming gift when he opened the clinic. With a whole furniture store to choose from, she’d picked a bamboo and rattan dresser, night table, and headboard. The curtains looked like mosquito netting and the throw rugs were tawny shag, which reminded his Mom of a lion’s mane. He could live with the jungle decor, but the four sets of leopard and zebra print sheets had long ago lost their miniscule appeal. Cassandra had thought they were hilarious. One of these days he had to buy some restfully plain white ones.
Why did women assume he wanted to drape himself and his surroundings in animal images just because he was a vet? He tossed the doggie tie on the dresser and stripped down to his white cotton briefs. Someday he was going to yank off the border strip with silhouettes of African animals that ran around the tops of the walls. It belonged in a kid’s room, but he wouldn’t hurt his mother’s feelings by telling her that. Both of his parents doted on their only son, much to his discomfort sometimes. It never occurred to them he might want to be on his own, and he cared about them too much to enlighten them.
He flopped down on zebra-print sheets and pillows and flicked on a cable news station. Stocks down, temperatures up, politicians squabbling, nothing there to take his mind off Mindy. He surfed channels and wondered how he could possibly be attracted to another control freak. The woman had retied his tie. If that wasn’t an ominous sign, he didn’t know what was. Even Cass hadn’t tried to redress him, and she had their whole future planned like a paint-by-number picture in a kid’s coloring book.
A basketball game caught his attention, but the Suns were leading by thirty-two points. No excitement there.
The phone rang, and he reached over to the bamboo stand to get it.
“Eric Kincaid,” he said giving his name because patients sometimes called his home phone.
“Dr. Kincaid…Eric…It’s Mindy Ryder. I just wanted to thank you again.”
She sounded a little breathless which gave her voice a sexy quality he found disturbing.
“You don’t need to. I enjoyed…” He hesitated, not sure whether to admit he’d liked being with her. “The dinner.”
Which was, he thought with some consternation, only partly the truth. During the meal he’d caught himself hanging on everything Mindy said as though they were having a real date. He’d even gone out of his way to be congenial to Wayne, although he found her father good company except on the topic of his daughter’s love life.
“Dad’s gone to bed,” she said, “but he won’t take no for an answer about having you come sight-seeing with us. Can you help me out and give me a plausible reason why you can’t go? What do vets do on weekends?”
Good question. He had some tedious paperwork he’d been putting off, and he’d promised to go to a party Saturday evening.
“Tell him,” he began, then couldn’t think of a single reason why he wouldn’t be eager to spend the day with Mindy if she were his girlfriend.
“Tell him I’m not available tomorrow, but I’ll go along Sunday morning if he wants to wait until then.”
“Oh, I’m not trying to rope you into actually going.”
“You’re not roping me. I’m volunteering.”
Why, he didn’t know. Wayne would probably want to know everything about him from how often he brushed his teeth to whether he’d slept with his daughter.
“No wonder Peaches adores you,” Mindy said. “You are so nice.”
“No, I’m not,” he denied truthfully.
Crazy maybe, for having anything at all to do with a woman who liked to reform her men, but he had an ulterior motive. His mom was giving a little dinner party Sunday evening, and he very much wanted a reason not to go. She’d joined the Mesa Civic League to get acquainted in the new city and, typically, thrown herself into their activities. They held a big fund-raiser every December to raise donations for the Maricopa County Animal Friends. It was a good cause. The money was used to get homeless pets ready for adoption. That meant spaying, neutering, grooming, shots, licenses, all the costly essentials. Last year he’d gotten away with making a cash contribution. This year Mom wanted him on the committee, and the dinner was a meeting to finalize what needed to be done.
It was no coincidence that the committee was mostly women, many of them young, single and eager to meet Felicia and Ray Kincaid’s bachelor son.
“I don’t see how I can ask you to help entertain my dad,” Mindy said.
“I’ll enjoy the trip. We’ll make a day of it. Have dinner in Sedona before we come home.”
“If you’re sure….”
He wasn’t, but he could still feel her lips warm and soft under his. Pretending to be hot for her wasn’t a stretch. In fact, he wouldn’t mind a little more smooching—only to impress Wayne, of course.
“I’ll drive. How does ten o’clock Sunday morning sound?” he asked.
“Wonderful! If there’s anything I can do for you—I mean, anything professional. Organize your office, do your Christmas shopping…”
“No, that’s not necessary.”
Really not necessary! He’d rather let a pack of baboons loose in the clinic. Already he was afraid he’d made a big mistake by offering to spend the whole day with the Ryders. He couldn’t help being sympathetic to Mindy, but if she tried to smear sunscreen on his face or retie his shoes, he was bailing.
He hung up, decided it was late enough to go to bed, and was settling in when the phone rang again.
“Mom.” No surprise. “I was going to call you in the morning. About the dinner meeting Sunday….”
He made his excuse. Her voice became very quiet and reasonable, not a good sign.
“I know it’s a great cause, Mom, but I promised to spend the day with a friend…. No, not Guy…. Actually, it’s one of my patient’s owners…. I’m not breaking my rule about socializing. Just doing a small favor…. Okay, yes, a female friend.”
An hour or so later he pulled on a pair of gray sweats, a threadbare Iowa State University T-shirt, socks and his battered old running shoes. Maybe some cool desert air would clear his head and help him get to sleep.
SUNDAY MORNING Dad volunteered to take the dog for a walk, so Mindy used the opportunity to call her big brother. First Carly, her sister-in-law, let her talk with five-year-old Kim and Sam, who was almost three, although her nephew’s idea of a phone conversation was a spurt of excited babble.
“Hi, Min,” Dwight said, relieving his son of the phone. “How are you and Dad doing?”
“He’s fine. We went out for dinner Friday with my pretend boyfriend.”
“Pretend?” There was a knowing chuckle on his voice. Dwight knew all about Mindy’s dating woes when it came to their father.
“Peaches’s vet. He went as a favor to me, but I’m not sure it was a good idea. I’d like to see him for real, but fat chance of that after I roped him into one of Dad’s infamous interrogations.”
“That bad?”
“No, I guess not. He likes Eric, but I don’t feel good about the phony date. Dad insisted the three of us go sight-seeing together today.”
“Your vet sounds like a good guy to go along with it. He must be interested in you.”
“I doubt it, but even if he is, a full day with Dad will discourage him. Remember when we rented that lake cabin for a week and Josh Arhus came to stay? Dad was so suspicious of his intentions, he scared him away after two days.”
“Well, hang in there,” he said, unhelpful.
Mindy hung up and hurried to get ready for the trip when her plan for the day fizzled like a dud fire-cracker. Peaches gave her the bad news, or at least thought she did as she barked furiously outside the closed bedroom door.
“You little rascal, what’s all the racket?”
She stepped out of her room and saw her father sitting on the couch, bending over and gingerly taking off his sock.
“Dad, what happened?”
“I took that mutt for a walk and tripped on a paving stone on your front walk. Would’ve been okay, but when I tried to get my balance, the dumb dog yanked on the leash and I went down. Lucky I didn’t land on my face.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I think I twisted my ankle.” He touched his right ankle, which was puffy-looking below the hem of khaki cotton slacks.
Mindy glanced at the dressy black wing tip shoe he’d just removed. It looked brand-new and probably still had slippery soles, but she bit back a comment about unsuitable footwear. Dad had worn the same style shoe as long as she’d known him. Pain and suffering weren’t going to change him.
“It doesn’t look good. I’d better drive you to the emergency room.”
“I’m not sitting around all day to have some wet-behind-the-ears intern tell me to take two aspirin. I’ll have your Eric see what he thinks.”
“He’s not my Eric, and he’s a vet, Dad, a vet. He doesn’t treat people.”
“I don’t want treatment. He can just take a look at it. How much trouble is that?”
“Your ankle could be sprained or even fractured. You need an X ray.”
When did her father regress to acting like a stubborn child?
“Just bring me a heating pad and a couple of pain pills. I’ll be ready to go to the ruins in an hour or so.”
“Dad, we were thinking of Walnut Canyon, hundreds of steps down and up again. You have to stay off your ankle until a doctor checks it.”
“Fine. Eric must have learned enough basics in vet school to diagnose a sprain.”
Arguing with him was useless. She didn’t have a heating pad, so he insisted she soak a cloth in hot water and lay it on his rapidly swelling ankle, never mind that she thought an ice pack was the way to go.
She’d been excited, even a little tingly, anticipating a whole day with Eric. Sure, he was only doing her a favor, and her father would be going along as well, but he must like her a little to go to the trouble of pretending to be her boyfriend.
When he got there ten minutes late, dressed in jeans and a faded blue denim shirt for their trip, she didn’t know what to say to him. They couldn’t go through with their plans, but her father would expect him to hang around and be sympathetic as any potential son-in-law would.
“What happened?” Eric saw her father stretched out on the couch, his foot on a pillow with a wet washcloth draped over his ankle.
“I twisted my damn ankle,” her father said impatiently. “The dog tripped me.”
“Not exactly,” Mindy said, unwilling to let Peaches get all the blame.
“Take a look. Tell me what you think,” her father said to Eric.
“You need to ice it, keep it elevated,” Eric said without examining the puffy ankle.
“I told Mindy a vet can handle the little things,” Wayne said with satisfaction.
“Dad, that’s commonsense first aid, not a diagnosis.”
“I’ll drive you to the emergency room,” Eric offered.
“I’m not sitting around there all day. Take a look. I trust your judgment.”
“If I were licensed to treat people, I’d order an X ray to see if it’s fractured. Look, it’s as big as a soccer ball and turning purple.”
Her dad sputtered and protested while she double-bagged some ice cubes and wrapped them in a dish towel.
Fifteen minutes later Eric finally convinced him to hobble out to his SUV. He settled Wayne on the back seat with his foot elevated, a pillow under his ballooning ankle and the makeshift ice bag on top of it.
An hour and fifty minutes later Wayne was wheeled in a chair into the examining area of Community General Hospital after telling Mindy to stay behind in the waiting room. A TV droned on in the cheerless tan-and-brown room, although no one among the day’s minor casualties was paying the slightest attention to it.
“We’ve got to break up,” Mindy said in an urgent whisper to Eric.
“Break up?” He laughed so loudly a health-care worker in a pink smock gave him the evil eye. “We can’t break up.”
“You know what I mean. Dad will expect you to stay by my side in this hour of crisis. I can’t ask you to hang around all day listening to his war stories.”
“Your father was in the military?”
“Accounting war stories. Tax payers versus the IRS. You’ll hate it.”
“I’m always willing to hear out an expert. Maybe I can pick up some good tax tips.”
He was teasing her. She was trying to let him off the hook, and he thought it was a joke.
“Please, Eric, I really appreciate what you’ve done…”
“Pretending you turn me on?” His teeth actually sparkled when he smiled like that.
“Be serious. This has gotten too complicated. Either I have to tell my father the truth, or we break up.”
“Here? Now?”
He looked across the room where a sallow-faced teenager was holding his arm over his chest. Beside him a gaunt woman with flamboyant hennaed hair quickly averted her eyes when Eric looked at her. Apparently she found them more entertaining than the talkie Sunday intellectuals on the tube.
“What do we do?” he asked. “Yell at each other, stage a fight? What’s my motivation in this scene?”
“I’ll just tell Dad it wasn’t working between us.”
“How will you get home from the hospital if I leave?”
“Cab,” she suggested listlessly. “Or I can call my friend, Laurie Davis. She’s not doing anything today.”
“I’ll take you and your dad home.”
“It really would be easier if we split up before Dad’s done here.”
“We’re not going to now. You dad is going home tomorrow. Let him leave happy. You’ll meet someone eventually. That’s the time to tell him it didn’t work out between us.”
“I don’t like taking advantage of you. If Dad weren’t so darn pushy…”
“He is who he is.”
Easy for him to say, she thought glumly.
“He’ll expect you to stay for dinner,” she warned.
“Can you cook?”
“We brought home lots of leftovers from yesterday’s dinner.”
“How about ordering Chinese?”
“Dad won’t eat it. Might have MSG in it.”
“Mexican?”
“Too spicy.”
“Pizza? He does eat pizza, doesn’t he?”
“Thick crust with Canadian bacon and mushrooms. Green peppers give him heartburn.”
“Is he your real father?” he asked with a grin.
“So I’ve been led to believe. Fortunately he’s kind, generous, loyal, honest and all those other Boy Scout virtues except when he’s trying to run my life.”
“I sorta like him myself. Tell me he watches basketball.”
“He’s still mad at the Suns because they’re out of town this weekend.”
“Well, love,” he said, doing the worst English accent she’d ever heard, “I really don’t think there’s anything here we can’t bloody well handle.”
4
“DAD, GOOD NEWS,” Mindy said Monday morning when her father thumped out of the guest room on sturdy wooden crutches rented from the hospital.
“Is the dog tied up?” he asked. “I’m rusty on crutches and I don’t want to be tripped again. I haven’t used these things since I tore up my knee playing high school basketball.”
“Peaches is outside on her line, but now that she’s used to you, she’ll be calmer. You don’t need to worry.”
He grunted and plopped down at the kitchen table where his coffee was waiting.
“Now what’s the good news?” he asked.
She knew what he wanted to hear, something to do with engagement rings, wedding bells, more grandchildren.
“I called the airport. There’s no problem getting a wheelchair. You can go from my van to the door of the plane without setting foot on the floor. So far they expect your plane to be on schedule. I’ll take care of baggage and everything, and Dwight will be there to meet you at the Pittsburgh airport. Even the weather is cooperating, so it should be a smooth flight.”
“I don’t want to be pushed around like a feeble old man,” he grumbled.
“It’s too far to walk on a sprained ankle. The doctor said it’s important to stay off it.”
“I plan to. I called the airline and canceled my ticket. I’d rather wait for my ankle to heal before flying home. It’ll cost me fifty dollars to reschedule, but it’s worth it to get to know your boyfriend better.”
“Dad! I’d love to see more of you, but you’ll be bored silly sitting around here alone. I do have to work. It’s my busy season.”
This was very bad news. How could she continue the fantasy about having a boyfriend until Dad’s ankle healed?
“You do whatever you need to. Don’t worry about me. I can entertain myself. You’ve got a computer and a TV I can use, and there must be a bookstore somewhere in the area. I’ll give you a list of books I’ve been wanting to read.”
She couldn’t say, Dad, go home, you make me crazy. She loved him, but she couldn’t continue seeing Eric. It wasn’t fair to him, and she was embarrassed enough already.
“You’ll miss your only grandson’s birthday Wednesday,” she reminded him.
“Sam will only be three. He won’t care when I present my stack of presents, and I’ll get out of going to the party Carly has planned at Bucko’s Pizza Palace. Have you ever been to one of their birthday orgies? Corny clowns, noisy game machines, kids screaming and running.” He shuddered. “I went to Kim’s fifth-birthday party there. A sledge hammer couldn’t give me a worse headache.”
“You love sharing your grandchildren’s big events,” she said. “Cake, candles, hugs and kisses for Grandpa.”
“The nice thing about retirement,” he said, speaking from his weeks of experience, “is I have plenty of time for the grandkids plus time to get to know my future son-in-law better.”
“Dad, we’re not that serious!”
“I know chemistry when I see it,” he said smugly. He started leafing through the TV listings, and she dejectedly began her day.
BY MIDMORNING Mindy was the one with a headache. She had to check with the woman who was catering the Robinson family Thanksgiving reunion, twenty-two people and counting, then run to the party store outlet for orange napkins and table decorations. After that, she had to meet a new client at two and make sure the carpenter had come back to finish the shelves in Mrs. Konkle’s home office. People paid her to worry, and she was good at it.
Unfortunately, with her dad dropping his bomb on her head, she couldn’t concentrate anymore. How could she work with her father in the house? Even before she left to run errands, he was busily using her computer to e-mail everyone he knew, however slightly. She could bump him, of course, but then what would he do all day? She remembered his book list and tried to figure out a time for a library trip. No point in buying thirteen books unless they weren’t available to borrow.
“I have to talk to Eric,” she said resolutely to herself.
The bogus romance had to end. Telling her father it was a hoax was no longer an option, not when he’d be there with her day and night expressing his disappointment with sad, mournful pronouncements. He took her single status as a personal affront because she rejected his opinion of it. He refused to believe she was happy the way she was and in no hurry to rush into a relationship just to satisfy him.
She dialed Eric’s office on her cell phone while she waited her turn to drive through a construction area. How she loathed those two-sided signs carried by the bored workers who reduced a four-lane road to one lane. There seemed to be a rule that the busiest lane had to wait the longest.
“Kincaid Veterinary Practice,” Della answered. “How may I help you?”
“Della, it’s Mindy Ryder. I desperately need to talk to the doctor.”
“Sorry, honey, he’s in the middle of a procedure. I can have him call you when office hours are over.”
“No, I need to talk to him now.”
“Has something happened to Peaches?” Della remembered pet names better than most people remembered people names.
“No, she’s fine. What about lunch? When does he take a lunch break?”
Traffic in Mindy’s lane started inching forward.
“I never know for sure. Sometimes he runs upstairs for a bite. Other days he’s so busy he just skips it.”
“Can you work me in anytime today?” She’d pay for an office visit if that was the only to talk to him.
“It must be really important.”
Della was curious. This was good. No doubt she remembered giving Eric the directions to her house.
“It is.”
“Tell you what, if you come over right now, I’ll squeeze you in as soon as humanly possible.”
“Thank you, Della, thank you, thank you, thank you.”
WHEN SHE GOT to Eric’s office, the prospects for seeing him very soon seemed grim. Half a dozen people were crowded into the area with a Noah’s ark of pets. The biggest gray cat she’d ever seen was perched on an elderly lady’s lap, glaring at a Saint Bernard waiting with stoic resignation. Mindy eyed a square red cardboard box barely large enough to hold a teapot. It had holes punched in the top. Did Eric treat snakes? She shuddered and hoped the hidden creature was something soft and furry like a gerbil.
“Mindy Ryder.” Della solemnly announced her name after only a couple minutes of waiting, giving her a nod.
She self-consciously walked to the door of the examining room, not at all comfortable about cutting to the front of the line.
“The procedure took longer than expected,” Della explained. “Please be as quick as you can. We’re really backed up today.”
“Thanks, Della. I appreciate this so much.”
She went through the swinging door to Eric’s examining room. It was empty, but only seconds later he came through another door that led to his hospital wing. He made eye contact for a second or two, and her heart thumped as enthusiastically as her dog’s tail usually did at the sight of the vet.
“Mindy, I didn’t expect to see you today. Where’s Peaches?” He went to the sink and started scrubbing his hands with pink liquid soap from a wall dispenser.
“I won’t take much of your time, but I had to see you. We really should’ve broken up yesterday.”
“You know, Mindy, I’m overbooked today.” He dried his hands on a paper towel. “Exactly why are you here?”
He sounded pleasant enough, but she hated the feeling that she was only a nuisance to a man who could turn her on with a smile.
“Dad’s decided to stay.”
“How long?”
“He didn’t say, but he canceled his flight home. He wants to get to know you better.” She paused. “Hey, is there a snake in your waiting room?”
“Doubt it, unless one slithered in by itself. About your father…”
“Yes, what about my father? If I calmly announce that we’re no longer an item, he’ll probably try to get us to reconcile. He won’t let it rest unless you do something unforgivably mean.”
“What did you have in mind?”
His scowl wasn’t enough to mar his good looks, and she was filled with regret. She should’ve kept going to the big impersonal vet clinic even if they had muzzled Peaches on her last appointment there. Mindy wouldn’t mind seeing Eric a lot more often than twice a year at her dog’s checkups, but by now he probably thought she was nothing but a nuisance. And here she was again, trying to use him to solve her problem.
“I shouldn’t have come. You’re busy, and you’ve already done more than I had any right to expect.”
She started to leave, but he stepped in front of the door and put both hands on her shoulders.
“But you did come, and I’m glad.”
What did he mean by that? She met his eyes and was even more confused. She shrugged, but he didn’t remove his hands.
“I’ll fake a breakup on the phone. I should’ve thought of it before I barged in on you,” she said apologetically.
“You didn’t barge. I told Della to send you in as soon as you got here.”
“But your waiting room is full.”
“Happens sometimes. I try, but…” He dropped his arms and turned away from her. “So your dad’s not leaving as scheduled, and he expects to see me….”
“Often, I’m afraid.”
“Then you and I had better strike a deal,” he replied, facing her again.
“A deal?”
Her shoulders felt warm where his hands had rested on top of her silky cherry-red ruffled blouse. She’d worn it with dressy gray slacks and low-heeled black pumps in anticipation of meeting a new client, hoping she’d look businesslike but imaginative. She looked good in red and hoped what she saw in Eric’s eyes was at least a trace of admiration.
“Maybe we can help each other out,” he said slowly.
The last time she’d heard that, her date had been trying to wiggle his fingers between her thighs. She looked at Eric’s hand, strong but gentle and soothing with his patients, then at his face. Who knew eyes could actually twinkle? Maybe he was only teasing about a deal, although he seemed too busy for games.
“Helpful is nice,” she said wanting to kick herself for sounding so clueless.
“There is something you can do for me.”
She dropped her eyes to the apex of his legs, which was not quite covered by the lab coat, then realized what she’d done and was mortified. She hadn’t intended to check him out, certainly not in his examining room where the air was heavy with disinfectant and tension.
He reached out, the back of his wrist brushing against her breast, but all he did was flip over the cameo pendant she was wearing.
“The backside was showing,” he said, his grin reminding her of the way she’d straightened his tie.
“I’m in a bind myself.” He sighed. “You can see how busy I am, but my mother has involved me in a big charity event to raise money for pet adoptions. Of course, she had an ulterior motive. She’s hoping I’ll meet the future mother of her grandchildren among the single women working in the event. She put me on the committee and expects me to help bring the thing together, thinking I’d be thrilled to get involved. Party planning isn’t my forte even if I had time to kill. But you’re a professional organizer…”
“It’s what I do for a living,” she said cautiously.
“I don’t want to let Mom down in front of her friends, but my idea of organizing is putting everything in a pile to worry about later.”
“What’s your deal?” she asked.
Once, as a kid back home in Pennsylvania, she’d been sliding down a snow-covered hill on a plastic sled when she hit a bump and headed straight for a tree. This felt the same way, but she didn’t have the option of wiping out on purpose and landing on soft snow.
“I’ll play Dr. Boyfriend if you’ll help me out on Mom’s charity event. Quietly. She doesn’t need to know you’re involved. I’ll go to the committee meetings and volunteer for as little as possible. Naturally most of the planning was done months ago. I call my mom’s group the committee for last-minute disasters. It doesn’t matter how far in advance they plan, something inevitably goes wrong. You handle what I’m supposed to be doing, and in exchange, your dad and I will be best buddies. He’ll go home sure you’re in good hands.”
There was nothing wrong with Eric’s proposal, but she couldn’t believe two competent adults were scheming to hoodwink their parents.
“Maybe we should both fess up instead,” she suggested.
“Take our medicine, get the spanking over with?” he asked.
“At least insist we’re mature adults who want to run our own lives.”
“Well spoken,” he said solemnly, “but I can’t do it without hurting Mom’s feelings, a lot. That’s just the way she is.”
“I can’t, either,” she admitted. “Dad misses Mom so much, he doesn’t want me to end up lonely and alone. It’s just that he’s so—so insistent.”
“So do we have a deal?” Eric asked.
She knew it was the answer to both their problems, at least temporarily, but it was only a little over six weeks until Christmas. She had parties to plan, people to consult, lists to cross off….
On the other hand, she hadn’t seen her father so happy and animated in a long time, even with his bum ankle keeping him housebound.
“Okay.” She said it with deep reluctance, but he smiled broadly.
“Shake.”
She lifted her hand to meet his. Strong fingers pressed against hers, and his firm palm felt wonderful. When his fingers brushed against her wrist, she felt ripples of pleasure course up her arm. One part of this charade would be a snap. She wouldn’t have any trouble pretending Eric was sexy and appealing.
He dropped her hand, and she had a terrible thought.
“You’re not involved…that is, seeing anyone else, are you? I wouldn’t want to interfere….”
“They’re lined up ten-deep to be with me,” he said with a grin, “but they’re all four-footed and furry.”
“Oh, my gosh, I forgot all those people in your waiting room. They must be ready to lynch me by now.”
“I’ll see you safely out.”
He opened the door, let her step through, and put his arm around her shoulders.
“Glad you stopped by, sweetheart,” he said for the benefit of his crowded waiting room.
He walked her to the outer door, opened it for her and gave her shoulder a squeeze.
She could feel the hostility in the waiting room turn to curiosity. They forgave her line-jumping because they thought she was Dr. Eric’s love interest—or at least one of them.
“See you later,” he said.
He grinned broadly as a finale to his act just as she stepped outside. She stared after him as he walked back to the examining room. How sincere was he about this deal? Was it just a ploy to get rid of her? She’d hate the additional stress so much she’d bail? She couldn’t resist the sudden urge to test him.
“Eric!”
She held the door open as he turned to face her again.
“Dinner tonight at my house, seven o’clock?” she asked in an expectant tone.
He hesitated for an instant, then agreed. “Fine. I’ll be there.”
Whatever the cost, she had a boyfriend, at least for the duration of her dad’s visit.
There had to be a better word than boyfriend. Lover, partner, significant other? Nothing quite described their nonrelationship.
She drove away, behind schedule and seriously short of time, and wondered if she’d ever before seen eyes as blue as his.
ERIC RAN a couple of extra miles after work, but still felt as though his brain were full of cobwebs. He wanted to sidestep any little committee chores his mother had lined up for him, but was the price of Mindy’s help too high?
He wasn’t ready for a new relationship, but keeping Mindy at arm’s length was harder every time he saw her. The impulse to take her in his arms and let nature take its course got stronger all the time. But he’d felt that way about Cass not very long ago, and he’d been as wrong about her as a man could be.
Sure, sometimes bachelor life was lonely after working hours, but he had friends and interests to keep him occupied. He didn’t need a new best buddy who expected him to become a son-in-law.
If he’d been free earlier in his office when Mindy had called, he would’ve cheerfully helped her orchestrate a breakup her father would believe. But when she walked into his examining room, he hadn’t wanted an abrupt end to their tentative relationship. He’d had a flash of inspiration. They could trade favors and make both parents happy. It was a spur-of-the-moment idea but seemed reasonable. An “I help you, and you help me” kind of thing.
After the run he scrubbed himself hard under a tepid spray. He hadn’t moved away from frigid Iowa winters to shiver in a cold shower, but his body chemistry had a way of reacting to Mindy that was totally at odds with his intentions. He was usually indifferent to women whose pets he treated, but he’d gone beyond his normal professionalism with Mindy. She turned him on, and the lukewarm water didn’t do much to cool down his involuntary interest in her.
She’d already put him off his stride. After her un-scheduled appearance at his office, he’d called Mrs. O’Brien’s St. Bernard Bozo instead of Beau Geste. He’d forgotten what a foul disposition Sugar Baby had until the cat punctured his latex glove with her needle-sharp teeth.
He never gave more than ten seconds thought to what he wore, but this evening he stood in his walk-in closet in white briefs and couldn’t make up his mind. If he really were courting a woman—what a corny, old-fashioned word—he’d wear his navy blue blazer and gray dress slacks. That outfit was sure to be a father-pleaser, especially to a man who probably slept in his wing tips, but what message would it send to Mindy? What if she were interested in him, and this was her way of attracting his attention.
“Yeah, right,” he said skeptically.
He knew a come-on when he saw one, and he wasn’t getting any signals from her. Was that why he had this strange feeling about their deal? Was it because she was more immune to his dubious charms than he was to her very real attractions? Or maybe he should be flattered. He didn’t need enough reforming and reorganizing to interest her. Wayne might be biased, but Mindy apparently went for men she could make over. Cass had tried that with him, and he didn’t want Mindy or any other woman trying to change him.
He yanked an old pair of jeans and a black knit turtleneck off the hangers. Hopefully wearing them wouldn’t send any messages one way or the other.
He got to Mindy’s house twenty minutes late because he belatedly remembered to stop for a bottle of wine as an offering for Wayne.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said when Mindy opened the door.
“No problem. I’m doing lemon-pepper chicken and marinated vegetable kabobs on the grill, nothing very fancy.”
Since his usual bachelor fare ran to omelettes or salads and submarines from the supermarket deli, it sounded elaborate to him.
“I was expecting leftovers from Mountain Monty’s.”
She laughed lightly, an altogether pleasing sound. “Dad had steak and eggs for breakfast, then polished off the last of the leftovers for lunch. Apparently his low cholesterol diet is on vacation.”
“I heard that, young lady,” Wayne said from the couch where he was lounging with his foot resting on a mound of pillows. “I’ll go to the store with you tomorrow and cash some traveler’s checks so you can stock your kitchen.”
“Dad, you don’t have to buy groceries. I make a good living.”
This had the ring of an old argument. Eric presented the wine to Mindy and ambled into the living room to sit opposite the patriarch in a high-backed Boston rocker.
“How’s your ankle?”
“Fine as long as I treat it with RICE. That’s rest, ice, compression and elevation.”
Eric knew that. He’d done enough track and field sports even before he got to college to be familiar with trainer’s lingo, but he was here to be the deferential suitor. From where he sat, he could see Mindy in the kitchen struggling with the cork in his bottle of wine.
“Let me,” he offered, walking over to her.
The nice thing about having the living room and kitchen as one large room was being able to see her as she worked. The bad thing was Wayne had a front-row seat to watch them together. Eric remembered his deal and moved up to her intending to carry out his end.
“Something smells nice.”
He nuzzled the back of her neck, soft and fragrant under her short-cropped sable hair. It seemed natural to wrap one arm around her waist, which looked slender and sexy in a long black skirt with big splashy yellow, red and green flowers. Her midriff-baring yellow top rode up so his arm was circling warm silky flesh. He should’ve braved an icy cold shower.
“I need to put the chicken on,” she said, pulling away.
“I’ll help you.”
He picked up a tray of foil packets and followed her down the hallway between the back rooms. They walked out through sliding glass doors onto a small flagstone patio, where she had a propane gas grill and a round white-metal table with two matching chairs and umbrella.
“This is nice,” he said.
“Except for having neighbors so close I can’t use the grill without attracting people who want to give me cooking advice.”
She kept her eyes averted. So far she hadn’t looked directly at him, not even when she answered the door.
“You know,” he said softly, “if you want your father to buy our act, you’re going to have to gaze longingly into my eyes.”
They both laughed self-consciously.
“I’ve had some second thoughts,” she admitted as she carefully laid the packets of chicken on the barbecue, still not meeting his eyes.
“And?”
Was she going to let him off the hook? Did he want her to?
“This is terribly unfair of me, expecting you to give up your free time like this.”
“Can’t complain about the eats.”
“Really, Eric, we can call this off right now. I’ll still help as much as I can with your committee, but I can’t ask you to—”
“Mindy,” he interrupted, even though he didn’t know what he wanted to say.
“You’re so busy,” she went on.
“When I agree to a deal, I keep my word,” he said, trying to sound resolute and committed.
“But I feel like I’ve trapped you into this.”
She kept fussing with long kabobs of potato, onion, mushroom and colorful yellow, red and green peppers.
“Look at me.”
He wanted to talk to her face, not the back of her head.
She looked at him over her shoulder, just long enough for him to see miniature bolts of green lightning in her intriguing hazel eyes.
“Enough fussing,” he said. “The food is fine.”
She turned and faced him squarely, then reached up and straightened the collar on his turtleneck. One minute she was willing to let him back away from their bargain, and the next she was fixing his shirt. The woman just couldn’t leave him alone. He took her hands in his and stared so intently she dropped her eyes.
“Sorry,” she said meekly.
“I’m going to go inside and talk to your dad,” he said gruffly.
“I meant what I said. You don’t have to do this….”
He went into the house without answering.
5
DAD WAS ONLINE AGAIN when Mindy got home from work late Friday afternoon. She’d moved the patio table into the living room and set up the computer there so she had access when her father was sleeping in the spare bedroom. Still, the arrangement wasn’t working well from her point of view. She did all her planning, organizing and accounting on her computer, usually in the evening. But after being home alone all day, her father was more chatty then he’d ever been before.
“How was your day?” he asked in a hearty voice from his spot on the couch.
“Fine, Dad.” Except for a crabby caterer, a carpenter whose wife had been in labor for twenty-one hours and counting and a client whose check bounced. “Did you find things to keep you busy today?”
“I found a list of e-mail addresses from my class at Penn State. I connected with a guy who lived next to me our freshman year. Now he’s right here in Phoenix. We had a good online chat.”
“Sounds like fun.”
Peaches did her welcoming dance while Mindy kicked off her sandals and enjoyed the cool tiles on the soles of her feet.
“Don’t leave your shoes where I can trip over them,” her father warned.
No, I certainly don’t want you to fall again she thought. “Did you get to your doctor’s appointment all right?”
She still felt guilty about not driving him there herself, but the day had been impossibly busy.
“The cab was twenty minutes late, but I allowed an extra forty-five for the trip.”
When had her father ever been late for anything, unlike Dr. Eric Kincaid who made a specialty of keeping people waiting? And not calling the woman he was supposed to adore.
“I do have good news,” he said.
“What?”
“The doctor says my ankle is coming along fine. Apparently the emergency room handled it okay. I’ll be back on both feet sooner than I thought.”
“That’s great news, Dad.” No more worrying about a phantom boyfriend, not that her father asked about him more than twenty or so times a day.
“That’s not the good news.”
Whoops.
“I’ve decided to stay through Christmas.”
“You mean stay another—”
“I haven’t had Christmas with you in a long time.” Interrupting was one of his little habits that was driving her up the wall.
Her father would be living in her house, micro-managing her life, giving her helpful advice. Until Christmas. She felt panicky. Maybe she could rent a temporary office—no, too expensive. She loved her father, but she desperately needed her space, especially during the busiest season of the year for her business.
“I don’t do much to celebrate Christmas,” she said.
Now there was an understatement. Last year she and Laurie had done each other’s nails and shared a frozen pizza. Her best friend was originally from Rhode Island and, like Laurie, Mindy preferred to make the annual pilgrimage home to see her family in the summer.
“This year we’ll do it up big. You and Eric can help me trim a tree—”
“Dad, Eric probably has other plans. His family will expect him to…”
“We’ll work it out. Christmas Eve, Christmas morning, I’m flexible about when we open presents.”
“Aren’t you forgetting Dwight and Carly and Sam and Kim? I can’t imagine you’d want to miss your grandchildren’s Christmas. You always spend holidays at their house.”
“No problem. I called Carly’s dad today. They’re going to take the family on a trip to Florida as their Christmas present. Renting a condo for a week. They’ll surprise them with the news on Thanksgiving. They can still celebrate a late Christmas with me when we all get home.”
“Sun, sea, beach, amusement parks. Doesn’t sound much like Christmas,” she mused aloud.
“Now don’t be envious, Mindy. Maybe you’ll go some place exotic for your honeymoon, maybe a Caribbean cruise. I might be persuaded to spring for the trip as a wedding present.”
“Dad, I have no plans whatsoever to get married in the near future.”
Peaches ambled away and went to her favorite hidey-hole at the far end of the couch where only the white tips of her paws revealed her location. Even the dog was cringing at her father’s premature offer of a honeymoon—or maybe it was his plan to intrude on her canine kingdom for more than a month.
“I have to level with you,” she went on, wishing she could tell him the whole truth without badly hurting his feelings. “Eric and I are only dating very casually. We have no plans for the future. He’s not interested in commitment, and I like things the way they are.”
“We’ll see,” he said smugly. “Meanwhile, I’ll have more time to get to know him better. He’s the first decent boyfriend you’ve had, so I hope it’s a sign your taste in men has improved.”
“You’re not being fair—”
The phone on the kitchen counter rang shrilly, which was probably a good thing. She grabbed for it, wondering if her father saw himself as an aging Cupid with thinning hair and a bum ankle.
“Yes, Mrs. Wilmer. How can I help you?” Mindy said after the Scottsdale social leader identified herself.
Mindy was setting up a database for Kitty Wilmer’s long Christmas card list, a tedious chore that involved reading an endless number of names and addresses written in the woman’s tiny, cramped handwriting, which included thirty years’ worth of additions, deletions and changes. She had to finish soon so the mailing labels were ready for the cards. It was the kind of picky job she hated, but Mrs. Wilmer could throw a lot of business her way if she was happy with her work.
“I have a pencil right here,” Mindy said as she started to jot down a few more additions to the list. The woman collected people as if they were coins.
At least her father got bored and thumped out to the back porch on his crutches for some early evening air.
Christmas! Her tenuous deal with Eric would never hold up that long.
ERIC MET Guy at the athletic club where they both had memberships. They played racquetball until they were pooped, then sat in the sauna making small talk.
“What a hottie,” Guy said, trying for the third time that morning to get Eric to open up about his date at Mountain Monty’s. “When are the four of us going to get together?”
“Your idea or Tammy’s?” Eric asked, letting the towel on his head hide his face.
“Both. We’d like to get to know her.”
Eric doubted Tammy was that eager to get acquainted with Mindy. She’d dragged Guy away before they could even finish their conversation.
“Why don’t you two agree on something important like when you’re getting married?”
“I’m on the road too much right now,” his friend replied.
“Lame excuse.”
“Effective though. I love a sauna,” Guy said with feeling. “Cleans out the pores, sharpens the brain.”
“It’s a good time for quiet contemplation.”
Sarcasm was wasted on Guy. He enjoyed talking even more than listening to his collection of CDs and audio books, the largest Eric had seen outside of a store.
His friend laughed, another thing he did easily and often.
“When you bring the dad along on a date, something serious is going on.”
“Nothing is going on,” Eric said, with no hope of being believed.
“Well, at least you’re over Cassandra. She was as cold as an ice sculpture.”
“She didn’t like you much, either.”
Guy thought that was hilarious.
“Well, when you feel like being sociable, we’ll set something up,” his friend said. “You can’t keep her all to yourself forever.”
“Time to hit the showers,” Eric said, knowing it was also time to call Mindy.
He thought far too often of calling her, but the cautious side of his nature held him back. He’d been through an emotionally charged breakup with Cassandra. She’d refused to accept any share of the blame for their incompatibility and was furious, mainly because he’d spoiled her horse-care plans. He still felt angry when he remembered her resentment and spite.
He’d been blinded by optimism and admiration for Cassandra’s style and class, that and basic lust for a hard-to-get female. He couldn’t help comparing his infatuation for Cass with the way he was beginning to feel about Mindy. Unfair as it might be, he was gun-shy when it came to women like Mindy, whose chief goal was to organize and reform. Better to keep his life unfettered, risk-free and placid than deal with another colossal mistake.
He would call Mindy, though. They had a deal, and he would do his part.
NOTHING WENT quite the way Eric planned that day. To begin with, he still hadn’t talked to Mindy. Now here he was, on her doorstep on Saturday night, not sure how he felt about another cozy dinner for three.
More to the point, what had her reaction been when Wayne told her Eric was coming for another meal? Mindy hadn’t been home when he finally called in the early afternoon. Wayne didn’t expect her soon, but suggested Eric drop over for dinner that evening. He’d declined, of course. He didn’t think Mindy wanted her father to arrange her social life, and he sure as hell didn’t, either. But he’d neglected to give a valid-sounding excuse right away, and Wayne wore him down until there was no way to refuse without disclaiming all interest in his daughter.
What Eric wanted was a private conversation with Mindy. What he was getting was dinner, deception and her dad.
His only consolation was she was probably more uncomfortable about it than he was. She’d gotten him into this, and she’d better have good news about her father going home. He didn’t like this dating charade. Their nonrelationship was getting to him more than he would’ve believed possible.
Probably worst of all, he felt silly standing in front of her door, not knowing if she wanted him to come for dinner. Rather than show up empty-handed, he’d picked up a bouquet of flowers that reminded him of autumn in Iowa, shades of gold and rust like the late fall foliage. They were long-stemmed and wrapped in green tissue paper. All he had to do was hand them over, but now that he was about to do it, the gesture seemed romantically hokey.
Wayne had probably spotted him through the big front window, so it was too late to retreat or hide the flowers in the car. He rang the buzzer.
His wanna-be father-in-law answered the door leaning on his crutches. The old boy still didn’t know how to dress down the Arizona way. He was wearing dark navy slacks, brilliantly shined black dress shoes, and a short-sleeved blue tailored shirt. His bolo tie looked stiff and formal.
“Good to see you, Eric.” He thrust out his hand.
“Nice seeing you, sir…Wayne.”
A spicy tomato smell permeated the interior of the house making him realize how hungry he was.
“Come on in, come on in. Mindy will be out in a minute. I have to warn you though, she’s a little miffed.”
“At me?”
She could be mad because he hadn’t called all week. That would’ve been enough to send Cassandra into a blue funk, but he didn’t have a real relationship with Mindy. She could’ve called him anytime if she had something to say.
“No, not at you.” Wayne laughed a bit too heartily. “At her father. Seems I committed a social nono when I invited you to dinner. Not that she isn’t happy to have you.”
“I’ll go if being here is a problem.”
“No, stay. You’re not the one she’s angry with,” Wayne said, shuffling out of the way then shutting the door behind Eric. “I’m the one who’s in the doghouse.”
“Where is Peaches?”
Right now he’d welcome the little rascal even if she jumped all over him, panting and licking his fingers. Anything to cut off this conversation with Wayne.
“In the bedroom with Mindy. You know women. Always a few last-minute rituals they think will make them look better. With Mindy, it’s usually eyebrows. Pluck, pluck, pluck. Anything wider than a pencil line is too bushy.”
Eric smiled, entertained by her grooming secret. Now that Wayne mentioned it, her brows were dark dramatic slashes, the sexiest he’d ever noticed. He’d wanted to run his fingertip over them more than once.
She came out of her room with Peaches forming a noisy honor guard and stood by the kitchen counter with a grim expression.
“Has he told you?”
She was asking Eric. The bouquet was beginning to feel clammy in his fist. Would soggy tissue turn his hand green?
“That you’re mad at him?”
He thrust the flowers forward, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Dad was being cute when he invited you to dinner. He’s going out.”
So Wayne was playing matchmaker, inviting him over to be alone with his daughter. The sly old devil had done exactly what Eric wanted, given him a chance to talk to Mindy alone. Their deal wasn’t working for him, and this was better than meeting at his office or working things out on the phone.
“I found an old friend from college, Jack Webster, through the Internet,” her father explained sheepishly. “Turns out he lives in Phoenix. He’s picking me up any minute now. His wife divorced him after thirty-eight years of marriage, so he’s at loose ends.”
This was more than Eric wanted to know about the old college buddy, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Mindy. She was wearing blue denim overalls, loose the way farmers in Iowa wore them, but hers barely came to mid-thigh. She probably didn’t know how sexy they were, which was a big part of their appeal. With only a little white camisole showing under them, the effect was pretty spectacular. He was too busy imagining how it would feel to run his hands under the loose denim and down her sides to her panties—if she was wearing any.
She must be. She was that kind of girl, and he deserved a swift kick for confusing what he felt—or didn’t feel—for Mindy with real sexual attraction.
From outside a horn beeped.
“Oh, there’s Jack,” Wayne said. “I’ve got a spare key, Mindy. You two have a good time.”
He went down the flagstones, swinging on his crutches like a kid let out of school and got into a dark green sports utility van big enough to haul a baseball team.
“Nice your father has a friend here,” Eric said, thrusting the flowers in her direction again after she closed the door. “These are for you.”
“Thank you.” She’d probably accept a summons with the same degree of enthusiasm.
“I don’t have to stay.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“No, but…”
“I have spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove, garlic bread ready to heat, salad already tossed and lemon bars in the fridge.”
“All that for me?”
He gave her a crooked little smile hoping to break through her anger, although he didn’t know why he cared.
“No, for my scheming, conniving father who never even hinted he was going off on his own tonight until a few minutes before you got here.”
Thanks, Wayne, he thought sourly. Ignite a brush-fire and let me get burned stamping it out. The guy was looking worse all the time as a prospective father-in-law.
“By then I didn’t see much point in trying to reach you, especially since I don’t have your cell phone number. If you’d been late as usual, Dad would have been gone.”
“I’m not usually late.”
Now he was mad, too. Maybe it would be best to leave.
“He’s staying until Christmas!”
He heard the distress in her voice and forgot his own petty annoyance.
“What?”
“You heard me.” She finally took the flowers out of his still outstretched hand, but made no move to do anything with them.
“Now what do we do?” he asked.
“I have to tell him the truth. It was bad enough deceiving him when he was halfway across the country and too busy to poll everyone he’s ever known for potential husbands. I can’t keep it up another…”
She used her fingers to calculate.
“Another five and a half weeks, longer if he doesn’t leave right after Christmas.”
“He won’t be happy when he hears it.” In the short time he’d known Wayne Ryder, even he could be sure of that.
“No.”
She stared at the bouquet in her hand as though just noticing it.
“Thank you for the flowers.”
“You’re welcome, but maybe it would be better if I leave now.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t want to go, but didn’t know why, even though the situation was definitely getting complicated.
“Stay. Please. Dinner’s nearly ready. All I have to do is cook the pasta.”
“If you’re sure…”
He tried to conceal his relief at not being sent on his way. Later he’d try to understand it.
“Anyway, you haven’t told me what I need to be doing for your mother’s fund-raiser committee.”
“So far I’m supposed to pick up donations the merchants have promised. Prizes, food. Mostly last-minute stuff. But if you’re going to tell your father about us, you don’t have to help.”
“Let’s talk about it later.” She managed a weak smile. “Sorry we can’t eat outside. I had to bring the patio table into the living room to use as a computer table. I’m doing my work after he goes to bed. I’ll get the noodles started now.”
“Can I help?”
“You can set the table. Plates and stuff are in the dishwasher. I haven’t had time to unload it.”
He took two heavy white stoneware plates with green bands from the dishwasher and arranged them on opposite sides of a small kitchen table. Trying to keep his mind on his task, he arranged flatware on either side of each plate and folded yellow paper napkins from a basket on the counter.
Without looking at her, he was fully aware of everything she did. He could track her by scent alone, a delicate floral fragrance that somehow permeated the garlicky smells in the kitchen.
She walked over and inspected the table, making it impossible not to notice her eyebrows. They were thin but angled in an impish way, well worth the time her father claimed was spent on them.
“We could renegotiate our deal after dinner,” he suggested cautiously.
“No, don’t even think about keeping up this charade. I don’t want you to keep pretending because you feel sorry for me. I got myself into this mess, and I’ll get myself out.”
“Without hurting your father?”
“Low blow.”
She was gorgeous when her brows arched and her lips formed a pouty little scowl.
Face it, he thought with irritation, she was gorgeous all the time. He’d noticed that the first time she walked into his office with Peaches.
“None of my business,” he mumbled by way of apology. “Remember the first time you brought Peaches for a checkup? You gave me a hard time about stepping onto the scale with her. I still remember what you weigh.”
“You don’t!” She stopped, dropping dry pasta into boiling water before facing him with pursed lips.
“One hundred sixteen pounds.”
“I can’t believe you remember that.”
“It’s a perfect weight for you. You’re only five feet tall.”
“Five-foot-three,” she said indignantly, then quickly reacted to his teasing with a broad smile. “You’re not exactly a basketball prospect yourself. What are you? Five six or eight?”
“Six foot even.”
“With platform soles.”
“Never wear them. Barefoot.”
“Hair standing up straight?”
“No, my usual baby blond curls.”
They both laughed. At least their silly argument had broken the ice. They could talk about something other than her father over dinner.
By her own admission, the spaghetti sauce came from a glass jar, the salad from a cellophane bag and the lemon bars from a package mix, but it was arguably the best dinner he’d had in years.
“How do you make canned sauce taste like this?” he asked. “When I use it, it’s like lumpy tomato sauce.”
“I add fresh green peppers, mushrooms and onions plus my secret seasonings.”
“Which you’re not going to share with me?” He pretended to be mad.
“Maybe, but it’ll cost you.”
There it was again. Even when they were kidding, everything between them was a deal. Just once he’d like to have a real date with her, the kind that ended in some serious smooching, some passionate petting…
He watched her nibble at her lemon bar, breaking off tiny bites with a fork and slowly savoring the tangy-sweet morsels. He finished his, decided against seconds although he was tempted, and kept his attention riveted on her mouth. It was small, but her lips were naturally pink and full. Could they possibly feel as sensual as they looked? He’d like to kiss her for real, nuzzle the lobe of her ear below her silky dark hair, and find the spots where she’d subtly splashed perfume.
She put the fork down with a small segment of lemon bar still on her plate. Why did women do that, leave the final bite when they’d already consumed enough calories to tweak the scale the next morning? Why not go all out and lick the plate clean?
“Are you going to waste that?” he asked, staring at her plate.
“Not if you want it.”
She speared it with the fork tines and held it out like a lure. He rose slowly from the chair, leaned across the table, opened his mouth and snapped it shut on air. She’d snatched it away with the quickness of a blinking eye.
“Tease!” he accused.
He walked to her side of the table. She stood up still tempting him with the bite of lemon bar.
“Do you really think you need more?” she asked.
He’d never seen this flirty side of her, and he liked it.
“Are you my calorie counter, my nutritionist, my mother?”
“Definitely not your mother. I just don’t think that little bulge of yours should get any bigger.”
“What bulge?”
He looked down even though he knew his waist and belly were lean and hard from lots of running.
She laughed, a ripple of pleasurable sound.
“You’re an evil girl.”
“Twenty-eight is hardly a girl.”
“Still a child.”
“Like you’re an old man!”
“Thirty and then some.”
“Aside from one bad engagement, why are you still available, Dr. Kincaid?”
“I’m not.”
He enjoyed the flicker of disappointment in her eyes.
“I’m seriously seeing a hot little number who likes to reform men.”
“Do you need reforming?” She backed away, bumping into the refrigerator and could retreat no farther.
“No, I’m pretty much perfect.”
“No ego, either.”
“Humble to the core.”
Placing both hands on the fridge, he hemmed her in. The white door was cool, but he wasn’t.
“I was only kidding,” she said softly.
“Kidding is good. Kissing is better.”
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and he took that as a yes.
He’d kissed her for show, for her father’s benefit, but this one was all for him, slow and soft until she leaned forward and melted into his arms.
“I didn’t expect…” she murmured as he slid his lips to the skin below her ear.
“I didn’t plan…” she whispered a tad breathlessly.
He moved his hands over her bare shoulders, down silky smooth arms until both her hands were covered by his. She escaped his grip and caressed the back of his neck while he locked his arms around her.
When her lips parted under his, he felt dizzy. He hadn’t allowed himself to fantasize about kissing her like this—well, not often anyway—but the reality of having her in his arms was better than anything he could imagine.
The metal clasps on her overalls pressed into his skin through the material of his shirt.
“I like what you’re wearing,” he said, exploring the contours of her back under the overall straps.
“You weren’t supposed to.”
She took his lower lip between her teeth and gently nipped at it, surprising him again because she wasn’t at all the cool, controlled woman he’d been trying to dismiss from his mind.
“What did you put in that sauce?” he asked when his voice kicked in again.
“Secret herbs and spices.”
He had a decision to make. Should he sweep her into his arms and carry her to the bedroom, or close the blinds on the picture window and…
The phone rang, waking Peaches who had been sleeping on the couch. She barked furiously, and Mindy slipped out of his arms.
“Don’t answer it.”
“Could be my dad. I have to.”
She picked it up, said hello several times, and hung up.
“Must have been a telemarketer double dialing.”
She walked into the living room and petted her dog’s head without looking at Eric. He followed, but she was bent over, showing no sign she wanted to pick up where they’d left off. Damn! What timing!
“Dad will be coming home soon,” she said, her meaning plain.
He’d forgotten about him, but surely two old buddies with nothing better to do would talk for hours.
“It’s early,” he said.
“They were only going to the Ranchero. It’s less than ten minutes from here.”
“Still, we’ve only just finished eating.”
“Yes, but…”
“Would your father be upset if we were, you know, being friendly?”
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