matching her stride for stride… in shorts.
She poured out two glasses of iced tea and sat across from him at the table. You’re making a big deal about nothing, she told herself. The man just wants a running partner to break up the monotony. It’s a perfectly harmless offer… from a harmless, incredibly attractive veterinarian. No big deal. She could handle it.
Jake stared at the empty pizza pan and felt a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry about the pizza. I couldn’t help myself. I was on my way home, minding my own business, and suddenly my car was surrounded by pizza fumes. I tried to resist, but it was impossible. I guess you think I’m a weak man.”
Amy looked at him sideways. “I think you’re full of… pizza. Why
“I came to pick up my TV dinners. I forgot to take them yesterday. The part about not being able to resist your pizza is true, though. And, well, I guess I came over to ogle you a little bit, too.” Oh boy, did he just say that? “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say that. I swear, it just popped out.”
“It just popped out, eh?”
“No. Well, actually… yes.”
Amy wasn’t sure how to respond to being ogled, so she busied herself with a large bite of pizza.
“Do you mind?” Jake asked.
She might have known he wouldn’t be the sort of man to let it rest. There was an evil smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “No, I don’t mind. Would you?”
“Hey, ogle away.”
Amy tried to swallow the glob of pizza in her mouth, but it was difficult getting past the lump of panic in her throat. If truth were told, she wasn’t good at being looked at. And being ogled by Jake was
Jake gave her his empty glass and tweaked a blond curl. “Since I ate your pizza, I think it’s only fair I supply dessert. How about an ice cream cone?”
Amy lay in bed and wriggled her toes, listening to the cicadas singing in the oak tree outside her window, signaling the beginning of another hot summer morning in Virginia. Her digital clock said 6:55. That seemed like the middle of the day after years of arising at four. A welcome luxury, Amy thought, shutting off the alarm before it rang. She missed being Lulu the Clown, but being a veterinary receptionist had some advantages. One of them was three extra hours of sleep; another was the veterinarian.
Jacob Elliott was absolutely wonderful, impressively nice, and a total enigma. He’d taken her out for an ice cream cone, stopped by the clinic to make sure the injured cockapoo puppy was recovering properly from surgery, and taken Amy home without even so much as a good-night kiss. It was practically insulting, and it was definitely disappointing. Maybe being kissed made her nervous, but that didn’t mean she minded being a little nervous! Amy wrinkled her nose. Men. Who could figure?
She took a quick shower and rifled her closet for an appropriate outfit, finally settling on a peach knit shirt. She shook out her curls, applied a thin line of eyeliner, thickening mascara, and a touch of peach-toned blusher. She squinted at her reflection in the mirror, deciding she looked about fourteen. No wonder Jake hadn’t kissed her last night. Criminy, she wished she had cleavage! She looked at herself more sternly. Jacob Elliott was making her crazy. She’d always been proud of her lithe, athletic body before. Now she was worried about cleavage. Yuck.
“Get a grip,” she told herself. She had a cab drop her at the supermarket parking lot so she could retrieve her car and her purse. She plugged her extra key into the ignition and drove the short distance to the office.
At midafternoon Jake took a moment to watch Amy organize his office. Files were all in proper order, phone messages were neatly stacked on a special clipboard, and somehow, she was managing to schedule appointments so that he was almost on time. And, not only was she efficient, he thought, she was adorable. Her shirt was the same color as her cheeks and soft, kissable lips, and the outfit she was wearing subtly hinted at high round breasts and a slim, girlish waist.
Jake followed her startled expression as the front door burst open and a sobbing brunette dragged a kennel cage into the waiting room.
As the woman bent to peer into the mesh window of the cage, Jake was treated to a full view of her derriere, clad in skimpy pink shorts. When she straightened and rushed toward him the word that popped into his mind was
The woman grabbed Jake by the lapels of his white lab coat. “Are you Dr. Elliott?”
Jake looked into her large brown eyes, swimming in tears, and wondered at the weight of her mascaraed eyelashes. How the devil did she keep her eyes open with all that gunk on them? He looked closer, realized the lashes were fake, and smiled at her, already amused. “Yup. I’m Dr. Elliott.”
“This is an emergency,” she sobbed, pulling him toward the crate. “My bird is sick. There’s something terribly wrong with him. He was fine this morning, and then he just keeled over. Do you suppose he could have had a heart attack?”
Jake attempted to lift the cage and was surprised at the weight. Definitely not a parakeet here, he thought. This was a
“Amy, do we have an examining room open?”
Amy didn’t move a muscle.
“Earth to Amy,” Jake said. “How about Room Three? Is Room Three empty?”
Amy knew this brunette, and she knew exactly what was in the cage. “It’s the chicken,” she said in a hoarse, choked whisper, feeling as though she’d been hit in the face with a pie.
Jake peered into the cage. “Oh, my-” Amy was right. It was Rhode Island Red… the rooster that broke Amy’s heart.
The brunette took a step backward. “What’s wrong? He isn’t dead, is he? Oh geez, don’t tell me he’s dead.”
He wasn’t dead, but Jake didn’t think he looked too good. He was hunkered down in the back of the cage with his eyes closed.
“Listen, Dr. Elliott,” the brunette said, “this rooster’s worth lots of money. He’s a television star. Do something!”
Jake set the cage on an examining table, opened it, and gingerly lifted out the rooster. The bird was lifeless on the table.
“I have to be honest with you,” Jake said. “We only treat domestic animals here. I haven’t had much experience with roosters.”
“Maybe it just needs vitamins. Maybe it’s anemic. Can roosters get mono? He’s been working awfully hard, ya know.”
After questioning her about the bird’s diet and any possible trauma it may have suffered, he listened to the bird’s heart. “How old is this fellow?”
The brunette shrugged. “I don’t know. I bought him a couple months ago at the farmers’ market.”
Jake stroked the glossy sienna feathers. “Why don’t you leave him here overnight. I’d like to run a few tests.”
“The tests won’t take too long, will they? He has to be up and dancing by Monday morning.”
Jake thought they’d be lucky if the bird was still breathing by Monday morning. “We’ll get started right away.”
“You sure he’ll be okay here?”
“I’ll put him in intensive care. He’ll be nice and safe. We need to keep him quiet.”
She took a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. “Poor bird. All those years on a dirty old chicken farm, and just when he makes it big… tragedy strikes.”
Jake bit his lip. This woman was going to be in deep trouble when the chicken died; the chicken had all the brains. “I’ll do what I can for him.”
It was six-thirty when Amy shut her computer down for the day, switched the phone over to the answering machine, and walked down the short hall, looking for Jake. She found him in intensive care, studying his patients, his thumbs hooked into his jeans pockets.
