The Vixen and the Vet (7 page)

Someday
, he promised himself.
No matter what you have to do. Someday.

He glanced at the dashboard clock. It was already two
thirty. With at least another hour of driving still to go, he stepped on the gas, knowing that heaven’s gates opened at four o’clock.

Which is why, when
he pulled up in front of his house at three forty-five and Miss Potts explained that she’d canceled the interview, he almost lost his mind.

“
What are you talking about?” he growled, standing in the front hall with his duffel bag slipping off his shoulder to the marble floor with a dull thud.

“I didn’t think you’d be home in time. I didn’t want the poor girl
to waste her time. Wednesday’s just as well, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not. It’s
not
just as well, and I don’t appreciate your interfering.”

“Well, I never. I only meant to help.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I told her you were called out of town as men sometimes are.”

“
As men sometimes
… “ His eyes widened, and his chin jutted forward as he understood her meaning. “You implied that I—that I was—”

“
Jealousy
does
make the heart grow fonder.”

“Miss Potts,” he groaned. “I never asked for your meddling!”

“This is the thanks I get for helping?” she demanded, then turned on her heel in a huff and headed back toward the kitchen.

“Some help!” he yelled at her back.

Asher ran his hand through his hair, disappointment and frustration driving him to do something he hadn’t done in almost eight years: He walked back through the front door, got in his car again, and turned it toward town.

***

Scarlet had gotten off early from work and sat beside Savannah on the swing, reading out of one of those goddamned bridal magazines again, but Savannah barely heard a word. It was almost four o’clock. And there would be no rush of excitement today as she drove up to Asher Lee’s house. No teasing conversation. No brush of his strong, warm hand. No rainbow-colored sunsets. No nothing.

He’d figured prominently in her dreams last night, the undamaged side of his face bending to kiss her. And then she’d backed up only to watch some
bottle blonde writhe beneath him as his perfect ass clenched, thrusting forcefully forward over and over again. She’d woken up shaking and sweaty and … sad. She hated dreams that didn’t wear off as the sun rose. She hated them even more when they lingered late into the day.

“
‘… and little gift bags for out-of-town guests are always a nice touch,’” read Scarlet. “Isn’t that a nice idea, Vanna? Gift bags for the folks comin’ in from out of town? It says here to ‘make sure you include bottled water, chocolates, directions to the church and reception, and recommendations of things to do.’ We could add Virginia Peanuts, too, and maybe some of mama’s famous muffins. Charmin’. Vanna? You listenin’?”

“Gift bags,” Savannah
said listlessly. “Charmin’.”

Sitting closer to the porch rail than the house meant she had an unobstructed view of kids riding their bicycles and the odd afternoon car. She sighed deeply, feeling forlorn.

Scarlet made an exasperated sound. “Oh, for Lord’s sake, Savannah! Why don’t you just go over there tomorrow and give him hell? I can’t stand it when you mope. You’re too strong and too tough to mope.”

Savannah turned to her sister. “I have no right to give him hell
, and I’ll be done moping in a few more minutes. At four o’clock. When we head to Fowler’s Bridal.”

“You really like him.”

Savannah shrugged. “I don’t know him all that well. But, yeah, Scarlet. I liked him. We had a lot more in common than I expected. I guess I just thought …” She looked away, at a mother pushing a carriage along the sidewalk. “It doesn’t matter.”

She heard the expensive motor before she actually saw the black sports
car pull up in front of her house.

“Who do you know
who owns a black BMW?” she asked Scarlet.

Her sister stood up and went to the porch railing, her pink
-and-white gingham sundress blowing lightly in the afternoon breeze. “No one.”

Savannah propped her elbow on the arm of the swing, watching with tepid curiosity as the engine went silent.
For several long moments no one emerged from the car, but her mouth dropped open in shock when someone finally did.

“Is that
…?” asked Scarlet, whipping her face to Savannah’s.

“Yes,” breathed Savannah, her heart pounding like crazy as her stomach flipped over in excitement. “It’s him.”

Asher moved quickly, slamming his door and keeping his head down as he made his way around the hood of his car. He opened the little gate and surged forward up the brick walkway, finally glancing up to find Scarlet gaping at him from the top of the steps.

“You’re Scarlet,” he said, extending his left hand. “Nice
sundress.”

Savannah couldn’t
keep a grin from spreading across her face as she heard his voice and choice of greeting. Unpolished. Perfect. She untangled her legs and stood up, wishing the world would stop spinning so much faster than usual.

“
Th-thanks,” said Scarlet, taking his hand, flashing a worried look at Savannah.

Asher followed Scarlet’s glance
, his eyes finding and resting on Savannah’s.

“I’ll just
… I’ll just leave you two to …” Scarlet turned and headed into the house, letting the screen door slam behind her.

Asher
clenched his jaw and Savannah could see the wildness in his eyes. My God, how much courage had it taken for him to show up here? She forgot about the bleached-blonde floozy and her disappointed hopes. She extended her hand to him, and he took it, moving around the coffee table to sit beside her on the swing. Once seated, with his injured side safely facing the side of the house, he seemed to relax. A little.

Savannah turned her body to face him, one knee brushing against his khaki-covered thigh as she moved. It felt like rock and made her shiver.

“What are you doing here? You canceled.”

“I
never
would have canceled. Miss Potts canceled. I read her the riot act. I almost killed myself getting home in time to see you … to …” His voice trailed off, and he clenched his jaw, like he’d said too much. He turned slightly to catch her eyes. “I didn’t want you to think I’d stood you up.”

“So you drove over here?”
At some point, their fingers had found each other, and his thumb stroked the back of hers gently. “It was impulsive.”

“It was darling,” she
said. Then, remembering his activities all weekend long, she wrangled her hand away from his and shifted her body to face front. “Though I’m surprised you could squeeze me in.”

She felt him move his arm around her shoulders and she forced herself not to lean back into it, even when his fingers lightly massaged her shoulder.

“I was in Bethesda, Savannah. At the military hospital, where I had a super-sexy dinner with my friend …” Her narrowed eyes whipped around to find his, but she was confused to find his wide and innocent. And, damn it, teasing. “… Lieutenant Barry Stevenson. We served together. In Afghanistan.”

“You weren’t
… I mean, you didn’t have … That is, you weren’t—”

“I understand Miss Potts made a very innocent trip appear to be more than it actually was. Though I’m incredibly chuffed that you care.”

Savannah felt the hot, red flush cover her chest and neck, creeping up to cover her cheeks. “She led me to believe …”

“I don’t know why she would have done that. I don’t
…
keep company
with anyone.”

The heat in her cheeks was almost painful now, and she reached forward for the iced tea pitcher, pouring two
glasses and appreciating the coolness against her fingers. What a fool. What a complete and utter idiot. Oh boy, would she have some choice words for Matilda J. Potts on Wednesday.

“When did you get home?” she asked weakly, taking a sip of her tea. Though she had poured him a glass, he hadn’t moved his arm to take it
, and his fingers continued the heavenly rhythm, massaging her shoulder. She never wanted him to stop.

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

She turned to look at him, cocking her head to the side. “You came right here?”

He nodded, looking slightly sheepish. “It’s four o’clock.”

“It’s four o’clock.” She winced, shaking her head. “When you canceled, I made plans with Scarlet. We’re picking out my maid of honor dress today. Did I tell you that my sister’s getting married in July?”

“I heard through the grapevine.”

“Miss Potts?”

“The one and only.”

“We’re going to have to keep an eye on her,” remarked Savannah, grinning at him, loving how his good eye crinkled when he smiled back.

He finally slid his arm away, shifting forward on the swing. “I guess I’d better be going, then. But Savannah
…”

She didn’t know what he was about to ask her, but he bit his lower lip, looking down at his hand on his thigh.

“Stay for dinner on Wednesday?” He looked up at her, and she saw the uncertainty in his eyes, the hope, the warmth.

She nodded. “Do you still want me to come at four?”

“Sure. We’ll do the interview first, and then we can just …”

“Have dinner,” she finished, wondering if he could hear her heartbeat. It pou
nded so thunderously in her ears, surely everyone on her street could hear it.

“Why Savannah,” her mother said cheerfully, stepping out onto the porch, followed by Scarlet, who hovered behind, looking
wide-eyed and uncertain as she flicked nervous glances at Asher’s arm and face. “I didn’t know you had a visitor.”

Asher stood up immediately,
offering his good hand to Judy Carmichael. “Mrs. Carmichael. I’m—”

“Asher Lee. Of course you are.” Savannah thanked God for her mother’s kindness. She didn’t flinch or shudder or gawk as she beheld Asher’s imperfect face. She beamed at him. “You have your mother’s eyes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I liked her very much.”

“She liked you, ma’am.”

“Come for supper on Sunday. Three o’clock.”

“Oh, I …”

“I insist, Asher.” She covered his hand with her other hand, patting gently to seal the deal before releasing
him.“We’ll wait for you in the car, button.”

Asher and Savannah watched as Judy and Scarlet made their way around the house
.

“Damn
,” Asher said. “I should’ve told her I liked her muffins. And cookies. And scones.”

“You can tell her on Sunday,” said Savannah, reaching out to touch his arm in farewell.

“Savannah, I …”

She looked up to meet his eyes as they walked side by side down the porch steps, the back of his hand lightly brushing the back of hers with every step.

“I just …”

“Me too, Asher,” she said softly. And then, because she was so glad to see him
, and so glad not to feel so damn sad anymore, she leaned toward him on tiptoe and pressed her lips gently to his left cheek.

His lips dropped open in awestruck surprise as she drew back, and she had a brief fantasy of leaning up to kiss
them,
too, but she was already feeling a little light-headed from that peck on his warm cheek. She turned toward the driveway, sprinting away and turning back only to wave when she heard him call, “Wednesday!” from behind.

The first time you talk until dawn

Asher didn’t tell her to dress fancy, but when she arrived
on Wednesday in a skimpy silver top that clung to her breasts, fancy dark-blue jeans that hugged her ass, and black ballet flats, his jaw just about dropped. Her hair was pulled into a loose braid at the nape of her neck, and she wore silver bracelets on her left wrist that jangled as she handed a small foil-covered plate to Miss Potts. He’d seen her dressed like a country miss and a disheveled city girl, but sophisticated was new. Sophisticated made his blood hot and his body hard. How in the world was it possible that he had even an outside chance with such a woman?

He watched
from the top of the stairs as she greeted Miss Potts.

“Well, Savannah Carmichael. Don’t you look
just lovely?”

“I was invited to stay for dinner
.” He heard the wariness in her voice.

“Of course you were. And Asher asked specifically for a picnic in the grove.”

“A picnic?”

“Have you been to the grove?” asked Miss Potts.

Savannah shook her head.

“
It’s a special spot,” Miss Potts said, patting Savannah’s cheek in a motherly gesture. “Oh, and dear, I’m so sorry if I led you astray during our phone conversation on Sunday.”

“I’m sure you are,” answered Savannah, her voice level but cool.

“I’m a terrible tease,” said Miss Potts winking at her before bustling into the kitchen, leaving Asher to continue his descent down the stairs to welcome his guest.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “You look beautiful.”

She smiled up at him, lacing her fingers through his as he led her to the stairs.

“There’s more to her than meets the eye,” murmured Savannah
, looking toward the kitchen.

“True enough.
”

“
She deliberately misled me, Asher.”

“I know.”

“Why would she do that?”

He shrugged, glad he remembered to leave the office door ajar so he didn’t have to drop her hand. “Maybe she didn’t want you to think I was out of the game.”

She pulled on his hand, forcing him to stop and face her before taking a seat in the wingback chairs. “For the record? I never thought you were out of the game.”

He gave her his best “don’t
kid a kidder” look and raised her hand to his lips, brushing her skin with aching tenderness before releasing it to take his seat.

She seemed surprised by his kiss and lingered behind her chair for an extra moment before joining him.

“Well, even if I did …,” she said in a breathy voice, thick with some sort of wonderful emotion that he could easily fall in love with. She raised her eyes to his, and the heat there nearly made him jump her. “… I certainly don’t anymore.”

***

Asher had stopped in the kitchen to pick up the picnic basket on their way outdoors, and Miss Potts had whispered something to him that made him blush and give her a stern look as he took the basket. Savannah considered asking him what she’d said, but her own nerves were getting the better of her. At no point had he asked her out on a date, or called tonight a date, and yet it was, hands down, the sexiest, most thoughtful, most romantic date she’d ever been on, and it had barely started.

An outdoor picnic? In a place called
the grove? Girls would swoon for less.

Which made
her feelings about everything more confusing than ever. That she cared for Asher had been well established in her mind over the weekend, but following his perfect-looking body from behind through the woods, she wondered where exactly she wanted her feelings to lead her. To a special friendship? To a relationship? To love?

Yet again they’d had a marvelous conversation in his office
, and he’d told her about his decision to attend U.Va. and why medicine had appealed to him as a career. He’d been a member of the prestigious, secretive Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity, and refused to tell her about his hazing experiences, though he did lift his pant leg to show her a crude tattoo in Greek letters near his ankle, raising his eyebrows merrily when she winced.

It was definitely where she’d start this week’s piece—with that little tattoo—though that was another thing. She hadn’t told him yet about her new angle: to portray their budding friendship, rather than
tell a straightforward story about his life. And aside from the tattoo anecdote, she had no idea what tone to take in this week’s piece. Should she mention her fit of jealousy at being misled by Miss Potts? Should she describe the leapings of her heart when he arrived on her doorstep? And what about tonight? Arguably her “story” started now, when the formal interview was over and they continued to explore the budding attraction between them. But was she prepared to share the nitty-gritty of her relationship with Asher? And, most troubling to her, would he object?

She shrugged away her concerns. He’d given her permission to interview him, right? How she chose to portray the content of their conversations was her decision, right? Of course
, and of course. Anyway, she hadn’t even started the next part of the piece yet. If, at some point, she felt that her story was somehow trespassing on his privacy, she could share it with him then. There was simply no need to bring it up tonight.

A
ll thoughts of her article and her feelings and her confusion and nerves turned to awe as the grove came into view. Much to Savannah’s surprise and delight, the grove turned out to be a rustic dining pavilion set in the middle of an apple orchard about a five-minute walk through the woods from the main house.

On a
brick patio sat a large wooden table in light wood with six comfortable chairs. Adjacent was a seating area with a love seat, two easy chairs, and a low, rustic table set before an outdoor fireplace.

At each corner of the patio
stood an authentic-looking totem pole, and from the tops of the poles, metal bars extended diagonally up to the center, all four bars meeting over the middle of the pavilion, where a deer antler chandelier cast soft light over the entire area. You could tent the whole area with those poles if you chose, but tonight they were wrapped with tiny white twinkle lights that gave the entire setup a fairy-tale quality.

“Oh, Asher,” she
said, meeting his eyes as he lifted the picnic basket to the table. “It’s breathtaking.”

***

Yes
, he thought, staring at her face in the soft light of dusk.
It is.

He hadn’t been able to hold her hand as they trekked through the woods since he’d been holding the basket
, and for the first time since they’d started meeting, he wasn’t wearing his prosthesis. It was okay, though. He’d sensed her skittishness as they left his office, and frankly he was feeling a little out of his depth too. He hadn’t asked a woman out in over ten years, and though he hadn’t called it a date, it was pretty clear that’s what it was, wasn’t it?

Or was it? He was pretty sure she’d been jealous of his nonexistent lover last weekend. They held hands easily now
, and she’d even kissed his cheek on Monday afternoon. But just about all those gestures could fall under the behavior of close friends. And though he loved his growing friendship with Savannah Carmichael, he wanted far more from her, and tonight was his first move toward making that happen.

He took his
iPod out of his pocket and plugged it into the docking station that connected to an outdoor audio system. A moment later, soft music filled the grove.

Her face tilted up, smiling in wonder, as she took in the details.

“Did you build this place?” she finally asked.

He shook his head. “Not entirely. My grandfather built the patio and fireplace back in the
fifties. My father added the totem poles and beams. There’s a mesh tent and a full tent that can be added to the poles to ward off bugs or the elements. I added the electricity and decided to split the patio into dining and lounging.”

“You
‘lounge’ here a lot?”

He shrugged, opening the picnic basket and finding one of two bottles of wine. He checked it out: a
decent vintage with a twist-off cap. He said a word of silent thanks to Miss Potts. Corkscrews were not his forte. He removed two wineglasses from the basket.

“
Chardonnay?” he asked.

“Sure. I’d love some
.” Savannah gestured to the table. “Should I …?”

“Why don’t we relax first?” He nodded to
ward the fireplace.

He watched as she walked over to the little sitting area, part of him praying that she’d choose the love
seat. His heart dipped when she didn’t. She chose an easy chair instead, sitting on the edge, wringing her hands and playing with her rings. She was nervous; he needed to remedy that.

He brought her a glass of wine before returning for his, then sat down alone on the love
seat across from her. “Are you cold? I can light the fire.”

Savannah took a sip of her wine. “Later?”

Well, at least that’s promising.

“Can I ask you something?”
she asked.

He nodded. “Anything.”

“You never said, and I’m not always very good at reading between the lines. But … is this a date?”

Her directness surprised Asher, but he felt a little relieved to have a chance to answer the question.

“Yes.”

“What about friends?” she asked, her eyes luminous in the soft light.

“Friends is good,” he answered, putting his glass on the table between them and lifting his arm to the back of the love seat. He stared at her, wanting her beside him, amazed that she was here with him, worried about doing anything that might make her run away from his face and his arm and his leg and his shattered life. His hand patted the back of the love seat. “Come here.”

She sat up a little straighter
, and, intentionally or not, it made her breasts thrust forward inside her little silver top. His eyes flicked to them before returning to her face.

“I hated the thought of you with someone else last weekend,” she whispered.

“I wasn’t with anyone else. I was thinking of you.”

“We barely know each other.”

“Good thing I’m not asking you to marry me.”

“If I come sit by you, what’re you going to do?”

He swallowed. Unbelievably, she was here. On a date with him. Best not to overthink it, because it was already too dreamlike to be true. All that mattered was that he had a chance with her. He was all in at this point—there was no room for half measures, no turning back.

He held her eyes and spoke firmly.
“I’m going to kiss you, Savannah.”

Her eyes widened
, and he heard her short, surprised intake of breath. After an eternal moment, she stood up and sat down beside him.

***

Asher turned his full face to her, and Savannah was again struck by how little his injuries affected her now, almost as if she were immune to them, almost as if he wouldn’t be the same without them. His eyes searched hers as he withdrew his hand from the back of the couch, reaching up to cup her cheek. She leaned into the strong warmth, letting her eyes close as the wine hit her head and the music swelled, and she felt his lips touch hers.

His hand slid backward,
his fingers weaving into her hair with more pressure, pulling her face forward, and her heart kicked into a gallop as his lips moved on hers, brushing, nipping, hypnotic. She leaned forward, pressing her hands against his chest, the hardness making her breathless as his tongue gently traced the seam of her lips, coaxing hers apart. Her mouth opened softly, reflexively welcoming him, and when their tongues touched, tentative at first, the wild buzzing in her stomach felt so hot, she moaned softly into his mouth.

His hand skimmed down her face to her neck, down her arm to her waist, which he encircled,
jerking her against him with such strength and certainty, her fingers curled against his chest, fisting in his shirt as heat pooled below her waist.

Savannah had been kissed before
—clumsily, hesitantly, passionately—but this kiss was on another plane of chemistry entirely. It was as though his taste, his smell, his touch, had been engineered solely for the purpose of making her give in. He kissed her long and fast and slow and wet and deep, and as their tongues twisted against each other Savannah’s nipples beaded, and she arched against him, hearing a desperate groaning, growling sound coming from his throat as his iron-like arm tightened around her.

His lips skimmed down her cheek to her neck, his tongue darting out to lick the warm skin where
her pulse fluttered wildly, pressing his lips against her while she inhaled raggedly.

“Asher,” sh
e gasped, trembling and panting as she rolled her hips instinctively toward him.

“
Mmm,” he breathed, taking her earlobe between his teeth and making her gasp again from the sharp pleasure of the sensation.