Chapter 2
Amy opened one eye and sniffed. A wonderful aroma was drifting into her bedroom. A food-type aroma. That was impossible. She squinted at her clock radio. Seven-thirty. She looked at the multicolored alley cat sleeping at the foot of her bed. “Motley, have you been cooking French toast?”
Motley twitched his ears and looked at her through half-closed eyes.
The ivory nightshirt lying on the floor caught Amy’s attention. If the nightshirt was on the floor—then what was she sleeping in? Her bra and her skirt. A fuzzy memory of being undressed crept into her brain. It was followed by the memory of a conversation about deflowering.
“Oh no,” she said. “I didn’t. I couldn’t have!” Motley was lounging on her white blouse. Good lord, maybe she had.
Jake knocked lightly on the bedroom door before pushing it open with his foot. “Glad to see you’re awake.”
Amy’s mouth dropped open. There was a man in her bedroom. Jacob Elliott, to be exact. She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself this was all a bad dream. When she reopened her eyes, Jake was still there.
A jumble of emotions boiled in Amy. Disbelief, fear, disappointment, embarrassment. Last night, after only one glass of wine, she’d felt scandalously comfortable with Jake. This morning she wasn’t nearly so comfortable.
“What are you doing here?”
“Making breakfast. I’m not much of a cook, but I make a mean French toast.”
“Have you been here…long?” Amy managed, ignoring the voice inside her head screaming, Have you been here all night?
“Only long enough to make breakfast. I took the liberty of helping myself to your house key last night, after you passed out. I thought you might be a little under the weather this morning. I can honestly say, I’ve never seen anyone get so drunk, so fast, on so little.”
Amy pulled the covers up to her chin and watched in dismay as he set a tray across her lap. He’d given her a glass of orange juice, a plate filled with steaming, golden slices of French toast drenched in butter and syrup, and a rose. A delicate, pale pink rose. She didn’t know what to say. Not only hadn’t anyone ever fixed her breakfast in bed before…but a rose! What had she done to deserve this? She was afraid to ask. “Um, about the rose…”
“I had to go to the supermarket for coffee, and I spied this rose. It’s the same shade as your skirt.” He grinned at the blush spreading across her face. “And your cheeks.”
“This rose isn’t for…ah, anything special? I mean we didn’t…”
“Don’t you remember?”
“I remember being unbuttoned out of my blouse.”
Jake helped himself to a corner of toast. “Don’t you remember anything else?”
“I remember a conversation about…gardening.”
“You mean that stuff about flowers, deflowering?”
Amy closed her eyes. She’d hoped it had been a nightmare. She’d told an acquaintance of only two hours her most intimate secret…and she was almost certain she’d then proceeded to attack him. “What happened after the conversation?”
Jake sliced off another corner and fed it to Amy. “You tried to get me to go to bed with you.”
“I didn’t!”
“You did, but I wouldn’t do it. I have my principles, you know. I didn’t want you to think I was easy.”
If she could die from embarrassment, Amy was sure she’d be dead in a minute. She swallowed the piece of bread in one gulp and slumped back against the headboard. “I suppose I’m relieved. I was afraid I just didn’t remember it.”
“It? You mean the momentous occasion?”
She detected a trace of laughter in his eyes, but his voice was low and purposefully seductive. It was a nice combination, she thought; it was playful. He was trying to ease them through an awkward morning after.
She sipped her orange juice and studied Jacob Elliott, deciding he had to have been at the head of the line when God was giving out all the good stuff. Not just physical good stuff like broad shoulders and perfect teeth. Jacob Elliott had a bunch of intangible qualities that, even in her inexperienced state, Amy knew would make him an extraordinary lover and a good friend. There was a gentleness about him, a satisfaction with life, a generous sense of humor. And he was honorable. Thank goodness.
She couldn’t imagine what had gotten into her last night. She’d indulged in a glass of wine from time to time—a nip of sherry at Christmas and champagne at weddings—but it had never affected her like that. It probably had to do with being fired. Yes, that had to be it: She’d been vulnerable. And depressed.
She should explain to Jake. He probably thought she was a crazed sex fiend. “I don’t usually do things like this,” she said. “I’ve never picked up a veterinarian before. And I’ve certainly never tried to get one into my bed.”
Jake nodded solicitously and tried not to smile.
Amy nervously twisted her napkin. “I can’t imagine what you must think of me, but it’s wrong. Honestly, I’m really very nice. In fact, most men think I’m prudish.”
Damn. This wasn’t coming out right, and if he didn’t stop smiling she was going to rearrange his nose. “What I mean to say is that I’d never go to bed with you!” Lord, now he looked insulted! “Not that it wouldn’t be…ah, pleasant.”
“Pleasant?”
“Incredible?” Did she just say “incredible”? Was that her voice? That shamelessly husky whisper?
She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in casual sex. I think the union between two people is very special and should be reserved for marriage. Besides, I could never, um, fool around with my employer.” She looked at him speculatively. “Do I still have a job?”
“You bet. And it starts today.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to get going. Mrs. Tobin is bringing her cat in at eight o’clock. Things slack off around noon. That would be a good time for you to come in to the office and meet my crew. The clinic is just around the corner from the supermarket…you can’t miss it. Oh, and Amy…”
“Yes?” She gulped, afraid of what he might say next.
“Wear something casual…something that won’t show dog hair.”
Amy locked the front door behind her and skipped down two porch steps before coming to a screeching halt. There was no little red car sitting in her driveway. She thunked her fist against her forehead. “Dumb, dumb, dumb.” Her car was still in the supermarket parking lot. No big deal. She could ride her bike. She hustled back into the house and changed out of her blue sundress into a pair of red shorts and a crisp white blouse. She traded her white sandals for a pair of running shoes.
Thirty minutes later she sailed into the clinic parking lot with sunburned cheeks, her blond curls damp against her forehead. She parked her bike in the flowerbeds to the side of the door and immediately stepped in a soft, malodorous brown mound. The four-letter expletive she uttered fit the occasion perfectly. She entered the empty, air-conditioned waiting room holding her shoe as far from her nose as possible.
Jake looked up from the front desk and grinned. “You have to be careful where you walk around a vet’s office.”
“Uh-huh.”
He gingerly took the shoe from her. “Follow me. I’ll rinse it off for you and give you the complete tour.” He opened doors as they walked. “Four examining rooms.” He pointed out a room with microscopes and stainless steel gizmos. “We have a good lab.” They proceeded toward the back of the clinic. “This is our grooming and minor-surgery area…over there are intensive-care cages.”
He cleaned her shoe in a deep sink, sprayed it with disinfectant, and waited while Amy laced it back onto her foot. “Boarding kennels are through that door, and major surgery is downstairs.”
He led her into a large carpeted room with wall-to-wall bookshelves and a huge oak desk heaped to overflowing with stacks of manila folders, magazines, apple cores, and a massive yellow tomcat with only one eye and half a tail.
“This is my
office. Maybe you could help me get it straightened out.”
The floor was littered with newspapers. Cardboard boxes held unpacked books. Phone numbers had been scribbled on the wall nearest the desk. Photos of patients were taped everywhere.
Straighten it out? Amy gasped. It would take a forklift to clear off his desk. “How much are you going to pay me?”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Is the cat real or stuffed?”
“That’s Spike. I rescued him from the shelter. He’s had a tough life. He lives here now.”
“Any other animals I should know about?”
“Spot comes and goes with me; you’ve met him. And there’s Ida.”
“What’s an Ida?”
“Ida!” a big green bird screeched from the corner. “Ida, Ida, Ida.”
Amy’s eyes opened wide. “My word. I didn’t see it there. It blends in with the palm tree.” This, Amy thought happily, was going to be fun.
Jake wanted to kiss her. It was all he could think about. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true, he admitted to himself. He could think of other things, but they started with kissing. Hell, maybe one little kiss wouldn’t hurt. A gentle kiss. Last time he’d kissed her he’d acted like a Neanderthal. This time he’d use restraint.
He didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize Amy’s feelings for him. She was a passionate, responsive woman who’d saved a very special part of herself for twenty-six years. He didn’t want to be the one to mess up her plans. He didn’t want her jumping into his bed because he’d stirred up a bunch of vacationing hormones, and then when the flush of desire was sated have her wonder if she’d done the right thing.
After all, virginity wasn’t something you could replace. When it was gone, it was gone for good. He wanted to make damn sure that when Amy decided to love someone, it would be the man she’d marry. And by thunder, it had better be him! he thought, thumping his fist on his desk.
Amy flinched in surprise.
Jake felt the flush rise from his shirt collar. “I got carried away.”
“What on earth were you thinking? For a minute there I thought you were going to kiss me again, and then I was afraid you were going to strangle me.”
“Pick one.”
“No way. Is there a ladies’ room here?”
Jake sighed. “Two doors around the corner. To the left.” He slouched in his chair and rubbed his forehead, wondering if everyone acted this stupid when they were in love.
The front door to the clinic opened and Jake heard the unmistakable shuffle of his colleague’s size-thirteen feet.
Allen Logan paused at Jake’s open door. “You look like you’ve just been hit by a bus.”
“That’s about how I feel.”
“The flu?”
Jake sighed. “The receptionist.”
“What receptionist?”
“Our receptionist. The one standing behind you.”
Logan turned around and grinned down at Amy. “Howdy.”
Jake ambled over. “This is Amy Klasse. Amy, this is Allen Logan, DVM…my happily married partner and resident bear.”
Amy smiled at Allen Logan. He did resemble a bear. A big, lumbering, gentle bear.
“Will you excuse us for a moment?” Allen said to Amy. Grabbing an arm, he pulled Jake into the lavatory and closed the door. “I like her. Nice legs, cute nose, great smile. What the hell are we going to do with a receptionist?”
“I’m going to marry her.”
“Oh.” Allen didn’t bother to keep the laughter from his voice. “Does she know this?”
“Not exactly.”
There was a knock on the door. “Jake? There’s a horse out here.”
The bathroom door opened and the two men stuck their heads out.
“That’s not a horse,” Jake explained. “That’s a Great Dane. Mrs. Newfarmer must be early for her one-thirty appointment.”
Amy flattened herself against the wall while the dog sniffed her shorts. “He’s drooling on my shoe.”
“Can’t blame him,” Allen Logan said wistfully.
A small, round woman appeared in the hallway. “I’m sorry, Dr. Elliott. Brutus was so anxious to see you, he pulled the leash out of my hand and took off.”
“Mrs. Newfarmer, I’d like you to meet my new receptionist, Amy Klasse.”
Mrs. Newfarmer shook Amy’s hand. “How nice. This office needs a receptionist,” she confided.
Jake and Allen looked at each other nonplussed.
“I didn’t think we needed a receptionist,” Allen whispered.
Jake looked at yesterday’s files spread across the front desk. The telephone rang once and then plugged into the answering machine. In the past year his client list had tripled. Maybe he really did need a receptionist. He looked at Allen and shrugged. “Life is strange.”
“Speaking of strange, Mr. Billings is due any minute with Daisy Mae.”
Jake’s eyes got round. “Did you tell him he had to have her confined?”
“I forgot.”
The front door opened and a whiskered old man strode in with an enormous gray cat perched on his shoulder. Jake dived for the Dane’s leash, but it was too late. The dog lunged at the cat, who catapulted itself onto Jake’s chest. Brutus changed direction in midair, striving for a hunk of gray fur from the cat’s tail. The cat turned around and made a quick swipe at the dog’s nose. The dog gave a loud yelp and retreated to a corner, where he had an accident.
“He’s just a puppy,” Mrs. Newfarmer apologized. “Do you have a mop?”
Amy almost fainted at the sight of tiny pinpricks of blood oozing through Jake’s shirt. “You’re wounded!”
“Nothing several hundred stitches couldn’t cure,” Jake said.
Allen saluted his injured partner. “Dr. Disaster strikes again.”
Jake began carefully unbuttoning his shirt. “I wasn’t overwhelmed by your bravery, Allen.”
“I was right behind you. I would have done something, but you were in my way.”
Amy winced at the scratches on Jake’s bare chest. This job is going to be a lot like teaching first grade, she thought. Wiping up puddles and administering first aid. Her experience in nursing had been mainly in the area of cut fingers and skinned knees, but she was sure she could transfer her knowledge to cat punctures.
“Poor Jake,” she soothed in her most sympathetic first-grade voice. “If you come back to the lavatory, I’ll clean up those mean scratches and you’ll be just fine.”
Jake gave Allen an eat-your-heart-out look and followed Amy into the hallway.
Amy almost fainted for the second time that day when Jake removed his shirt. He had a great body, with an enchanting thin line of hair traveling the length of his hard, flat stomach—pointing like an arrow to places she’d rather not think about right now.
She soaked a clean washcloth in warm water but stopped short of applying it to Jake’s chest, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment. There’s nothing wrong with touching a man’s bare chest to administer first aid! she told herself. Lord, she was such a ninny!
The problem was, this was no ordinary chest. It was warm and gorgeous and absolutely mesmerizing, and it belonged to Jake.
Jake removed the cloth from her hand and dabbed at his scratches. “Are you okay? You look all flushed.”
“It’s your chest. It’s, it’s…got holes in it.”
He poured antiseptic onto a cotton ball and applied it to the ragged red lines. “They really aren’t so bad.”
“Does this happen often?”
“Every time Daisy Mae enters this office. I keep extra shirts in my desk drawer just in case a dog shows up.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Bottom drawer on the left-hand side.”
Amy went to the office, opened the drawer and, sure enough, she found a whole stack of shirts fresh from the cleaners. She selected a blue button-down and helped him slide into it. “I suppose you have all your shots up to date…
like tetanus and rabies and stuff.”
“Worried about me?”
“Of course. I don’t want to be out of a hunk…I mean a job.”
Amy cracked her knuckles. She wanted to drop right through the floor. She was acting like a blithering idiot. Jacob Elliott in unbuttoned splendor sent her blood pressure soaring. This was probably very healthy. She wouldn’t even have to jog tonight. Her heart rate couldn’t get any faster.
The front door opened and closed and opened and closed. The sounds of chattering people drifted in from the waiting room. “Boy,” Amy said, “things get busy around here.”
“Maybe you could sit at the front desk and do receptionist things. And you could try to find some folders for me. We have a filing system, but things don’t always get put back immediately.”
“I could do that. I could put things back immediately, and I could find folders.” Anything to get away from his naked chest! Amy glanced at Jake, then practically ran to the desk.
She smiled at the roomful of people and swallowed hard at the mess in front of her. Don’t panic, she told herself. One thing at a time. There must be an appointment book…somewhere. She stacked the folders in alphabetical order and filed them in the cabinets behind her desk. She located the elusive appointment book, unplugged the recorder, and began taking phone messages.
Allen and Jake watched in amazement from the hallway. “Son of a gun,” Allen said. “Maybe we did need a receptionist.”
Only an hour later, Amy was beginning to feel comfortable. She had established some semblance of order to the office, and she was surrounded by people and animals, which, she decided, was actually quite nice.
The door opened and a small boy stumbled in carrying a shaggy inert form. Tears streamed down the child’s face. Blood dripped from the animal, staining the boy’s shirt and jeans.
Amy had survived a cat fight and Jacob Elliott’s bare chest, but she wasn’t up to a bloody animal. “Merciful heavens,” she whispered. She shouted “Dr. Elliott!” and fainted dead away.