Take Me Again (14 page)

"She's looking good.” Uncle Carl broke into her concentration as he entered the corral. She hadn't even heard his approach. “So what do you think?” He narrowed his eyes on Tracy.

She felt the blood drain from her face as she turned to face her uncle. Did she really have to admit that she had no idea? That she'd been sleeping on the job? That she'd dropped the ball?

"Not too bad. It was a good night."

Dolan came to her rescue when he added, “Your niece knows her stuff. Ice Princess might even come through this with no aftereffects. What do you say, Tracy, fluids and medicine for the next couple of days?"

"Yes. Definitely. She'll need to be monitored and kept quiet."

Carl's gaze darted from Dolan back to her. “Good. I'll have my stable manager arrange for someone to be with her at all times. I bet you two could use a shower and some sleep."

A shower? Tracy released a sigh that grabbed both men's attention. “Sounds heavenly,” she admitted feeling heat race across her cheeks.

"Do you want me to have one of my men take you home?"

"No need. I can take her,” Dolan offered quickly.

It was a moment before her uncle said, “Fine. Hey, Campton.” A man bending over checking the ankle of one of the horses glanced up when Carl called his name. “Need for you to take care of Ice Princess while my niece is away."

"Sure, boss.” He lowered the horse's leg and headed toward them.

"Campton, this here is my niece, Tracy Marx. You already know Dolan Crane.” Her uncle's foreman had been out of town on business until today or she would have met him when she arrived.

Campton shook Dolan's hand before he turned to Tracy. He eyed her warily as he extended her his hand. They shook. “Ms. Marx.” As he tried to release her, she locked her fingers around his.

"Dr. Marx,” she corrected, before easing her grip.

Cocking a brow, he looked down at their hands. “Of course.” He pulled out of her grasp.

Bastard.

She wouldn't let him get to her. She was tired and that didn't bode well in a battle of wits. “Here's what needs to be done in my absence.” Tracy outlined exactly what she expected, ignoring the fact he glanced toward Dolan occasionally to see if he concurred. Thankfully he remained silent, his features not revealing his opinion. “Call me if there's any change."

"Ready?” Dolan asked.

"Not yet.” She couldn't leave without hearing for herself the horse was doing well.

Dolan picked up her bag and handed it to her. His gaze flickered toward Campton and her uncle who had begun to talk about another horse. “You don't trust me,” he whispered for her ears only.

"It's not that."

His eyes widened with skepticism.

"Really,” she insisted. “I just need to check—listen to her.” After several minutes she had confirmed what Dolan already knew. The horse was doing much better. She packed away her stethoscope and picked up her bag where he had set it. Walking toward her uncle, she said, “I have an appointment the later part of the morning, but I'll be back afterwards."

He nodded.

Dolan took her bag, holding it in the same hand he carried his own. Pressing his free hand to the small of her back, he guided her toward the door.

Stepping outside, she looked askew. “Thank you.” He had covered her ass with her uncle when he could have thrown her to the wolves.

"My pleasure,” he returned. Their eyes met and both began to smile. “Now. Your place or mine?"

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"She's beautiful.” Tracy admired the eight-year-old sorrel thoroughbred. Her superior racing lines and long legs were obvious even heavy with foal. In Midnight Blue's hay days she must have been fast. But that wasn't the only thing that had Tracy in awe.

Dr. Zimmerman's facility was amazing.

From the immaculate stables with their own fresh water supply system to the fibre sand walkways from the yard right up to the start of the gallops. He even had an equine spa.

Two to thirty-five degrees Celsius, the cold saltwater hydrotherapy was great in treating and preventing a multitude of limb injuries. She glanced at the self-contained unit that could service three horses per hour.

Hot damn
.

She tried to hide her excitement as she stroked the mare's ankle, but it was difficult surrounded by such luxury. Facilities like this at her fingertips. She had died and gone to heaven. Tracy stared up from her squatting position.

"So how are you adjusting?” Grey threaded Dr. Zimmerman's black hair. In his day he must have been a damn good-looking man. Now sixty-something, he walked with a limp supported by a cane. Arthritis had made its tracks across once strong hands.

She stood, brushing off her palms. “California is beautiful."

He frowned. “I didn't ask about California, girl. How are you getting along? I hear you've already met Dr. Crane.” His voice was gruff, but his eyes were warm, comforting.

What? How did he know?

Boy howdy had she met Dr. Crane. She knew what made him tremble. That he liked his lovin’ a little kinky. That he was the most virile man she had ever met. But she didn't share those facts. Instead, she calmly said, “Yes, I have."

He struck his cane against the corral, spooking the horse and Tracy. She flinched.

"So?” The man was like a bulldog with a bone.

She shifted her feet. “I gathered Dr. Crane isn't pleased with my arrival. However, I think we've gotten past that awkwardness."

Or had they?

Just because they spent one long sultry night and morning together didn't mean their business problems had been resolved. Her presence would definitely impact Dolan. He was set up to take over when Zimmerman retired. Her presence could change all that.

"Good. Now tell me how you feel about manning the facility while Crane handles the field.” He waited until she exited the corral and then closed the gate with a bang.

The clang cut straight through her. Damn. She was jumpy. This job meant everything to her, even if holed up in a facility wouldn't have been her first choice.
Baby steps
, she mentally whispered. Patience wasn't one of her virtues. Yet a girl had to do what a girl had to do to develop her career.

"It sounds exciting,” she lied.

He cocked his head knowingly. “Something tells me that wouldn't have been your first choice."

Shit. The man was intuitive.

"Dad, give her a break.” A deep male voice chastised.

Dad? Tracy glanced over her shoulder.

The resemblance was uncanny. If this is what Dr. Zimmerman looked like as a young man, then she had hit the nail on the head. His son was the effigy of strength and power dressed in a pinstripe blue suit and starch white shirt. No boots. No jeans. No cowboy. This man was executive material. Even his smile looked expensive. His movements held a confident air as he closed the distance between them and extended her his hand.

"Zachery Zimmerman."

"Tracy Marx."

He didn't release her hand. “It's a pleasure."

"The pleasure is mine,” she said politely.

Truth was she'd never seen a man so—pretty. That's the only word she could find. Black hair and long black eyelashes any woman would die for swept over high cheekbones. Sky blue eyes a woman could drown in. Every feature sculptured, every muscle toned, not from hard work but hours in a gym. Even his fingernails and hands looked like he had a recent manicure and his cologne was a clean, unobtrusive woodsy scent.

The clearing of one's throat broke the trance Zimmerman's son had weaved around her. “Am I missing something?” She could hear an edge to Dolan's voice.

Tracy jerked her hand back.

"Just introductions,” Dr. Zimmerman explained.

"Zach,” Dolan spoke his name like a curse.

"Dolan,” the man returned with just as much animosity.

She looked between them, witnessing their demeanors change, stiffen. There was a story here. Yet she got the feeling it was one better left alone. Sometimes being uninformed was a good place to be.

"Dolan, would you show Dr. Marx around while Zach and I complete our business?” He didn't wait for an answer; he just limped away toward his office.

"Dr. Marx, would you like to join me for lunch?” Zach asked.

The heat on Dolan's face was hard to miss. He looked angry. About the man's presence or the fact he had just asked her out on a date, which was a ridiculous thought. Of course it had to do with the man's presence. Still it was better to keep their relationship on a professional basis. She'd already crossed the line with Dolan.

"Thank you, but I have another appointment after this one."

His smile was breathtaking. “You do have to eat."

"Yes, but—"

"She said, ‘no',” Dolan said abruptly.

Zach's smile faded. He narrowed his eyes on Dolan. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and then a gleam sparked. “So that's how it is.” He turned his attention back to Tracy with that priceless smile now a smirk. His gaze stroked her body with renewed interest.

Something crawled beneath her skin. She wasn't sure she liked this man.

"Zach!” Dr. Zimmerman yelled, holding the door open.

"I'm coming,” Zach threw over his shoulder. “Does he know?"

Dolan seemed to mask his control beneath an apathetic expression, but she wasn't so lucky. Tracy couldn't breathe. Every tendon had decided to lock up. Was the heat between her and Dolan so obvious or was this man like his father—intuitive? Did that mean Dr. Zimmerman already knew that something intimate existed between them?

Crap. Crap. Crap.

Somehow she managed to say, “Excuse me?” at the same time Dolan said, “I believe you owe Dr. Marx an apology."

Zach glanced from Dolan back to her. “Of course, my apologies.” His expression shifted so easily from sonofabitch to gentleman, she wondered if she had misread his comment. “Dinner? Say you will join me for dinner tonight."

What the—

Not no, but hell no. She wasn't interested.

"Zach—"

"Thank you,” she interrupted Dolan. “As I said, I have plans. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Zimmerman.” She didn't even offer her hand. Instead she turned her back on him. “How many stables are on the premises?"

"Twelve."

She placed her palm on Dolan's arm and felt the tremor that snaked through him. “I'm eager to see more. Thank you."

"We have additional paddocks for turnout of long-term patients and day boarders.” Dolan escorted her down the hall. “We provide twenty-four-hour intensive care for all critical cases with the full utilization of specialized equipment. We could bring Ice Princess here if you wish."

"Thank you, but I've checked on her earlier. I think she'll be okay. Campton seems to be very competent."

Dolan agreed that Campton was competent.

Zachery Zimmerman, on the other hand, was one man he couldn't stand. Bad blood had existed between them since they were children. Their relationship had gone from bad to non-existent when Doc Zimmerman had taken an interest in Dolan. Guess the elderly man hadn't expected his son to seek all the get-rich schemes versus hard work. Although he had to admit Zach must be doing well if the designer suit and black Mercedes were really his.

Possessively, Dolan placed his palm at the small of Tracy's back. Damn. He loved touching her. She felt so right—so his.

The thought of Zach even near her made his stomach knot. Of course, that was ludicrous. He had no ties to her other than his body recognized hers as his other half. That in itself was asinine.

He guided her throughout the building filled with the scents of antiseptic, medicines and of course a variety of animals. They not only treated horses in this facility, but cattle, sheep and the occasional dog or cat.

"I think you'll be impressed not only with our equipment but our staff. Our technicians are some of the best in California.” Pride filled his chest. In the last year they had increased their clinical business two-fold. The real truth was that they needed another veterinarian. There was plenty of work. The loss of the colt the other day and this loneliness he was experiencing had him off kilter—not thinking right.

They entered a large room where one female technician held the reins of a large bay gelding while another adjusted an overhead mounted X-ray machine. Dolan and Tracy pulled to a stop, watching. “We have the capability of producing high quality radiographs of most portions of a horse's anatomy. Our consulting radiologists interpret and report on all radiographic studies, providing us the highest quality diagnoses."

The sparkle in Tracy's eyes said she was impressed. He remembered that hungry look staring back from a mirror once. She'd be perfect here.

"Two portable X-ray machines are available for limited field studies,” he added before including, “Beth and Courtney are both certified in radiology and ultrasonography."

Tracy's eyes widened. “You have an ultrasound?"

"Endoscope too,” he said. “Ladies, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Marx. She's contemplating joining our practice.” Surprise flittered across their faces, but they smiled and greeted her warmly. Little more was said as the horse stomped its restless legs, demanding their attention.

The thump of Doc Zimmerman's cane on the floor introduced his arrival. He held a manila envelope tucked between his arm and body as he limped closer. Dolan couldn't help wondering what scheme Zach was attempting to talk his father into.

"So do you like what you see?” the elderly man asked.

A tight grin brightened her cheeks a rosy pink. “Yes.” She bit her lip and Dolan could see her attempting to curb her excitement. “I'm impressed beyond words."

Doc Zimmerman turned to him. The man's damn scrutiny always made Dolan squirm a little as he mentally gauged him. His silence was deliberate, seeking. “Boy, what do you say we give her a home?"

Not a chance or an opportunity, but a home. Doc was a family man. Even though his son had turned out a loser to the nth degree, he loved him. Now he was opening his arms to Tracy. But the wise old codger had placed the final decision right in Dolan's lap.

Thanks, Doc.