Tough to Tame (6 page)

She stood very still, waiting, hoping that he wasn’t going to draw back. She loved the way his body felt, so close to hers. She loved his strength, his height, the spicy scent of his cologne. She hung there, at his lips, her eyes half closed, waiting, waiting…

“Where’s that cake?” came a plaintive cry from the living room. “I’m starving!”

They jumped apart so quickly that Cappie almost fell. “Coming right up!” Heavens, was that her voice? It sounded almost artificial!

“I’ll take the coffeepot into the living room for you,” Bentley said. His own voice was oddly hoarse and deep, and he didn’t look at her as he went out of the room.

Cappie cut the cake, forcing her mind to ignore what had almost happened. She had so many complications in her life right now that she didn’t really need another one. But she did wonder if it was possible to put this particular genie back in its bottle.

And, in fact, it wasn’t. When they finished the cake and a few more minutes of conversation, Bentley got a call from his answering service and hung up with a grimace.

“One of Cy Parks’s purebred heifers is calving for the first time. I’ll have to go. Sorry. I really enjoyed the meal, and the cake.”

“So did we,” Cappie said.

“We’ll have to do this again,” Kell added, grinning.

“Next time, I’ll take the two of you out to a nice restaurant,” Bentley said.

“Well…” Cappie hesitated.

“Walk me out,” Bentley told her, and he didn’t smile.

Cappie looked toward Kell to save her, but he only grinned. She turned and followed Bentley out the door.

He paused at the steps, looking down at her with a long, unblinking stare in the faint light that shone out from the windows.

She bit her lower lip and searched for something to say. Her mind wouldn’t cooperate.

He couldn’t seem to find anything to say, either. They just stared at each other.

“I hate women,” he bit off.

She faltered. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Oh, what the hell. Come here.”

He scooped her up against him, bent his head and kissed her with such immediate passion that she couldn’t even think. Her arms went around his neck as she warmed to the hard, insistent pressure of his mouth as it parted her lips and invaded the soft, secret warmth of her mouth. It was too much, too soon, but she couldn’t say that. He didn’t leave her enough breath to say anything, and the pleasure throbbing through her body robbed her mind of the words, anyway.

Seconds later, he put her back on her feet and moved away. “Well!” he said huskily.

She stared up at him with her mouth open.

His eyebrows arched.

She tried to speak, but she couldn’t manage a single word.

He let out a rough breath. “I really wish you wouldn’t look at me in that tone of voice,” he said.

“Wh…what?” she stammered.

He chuckled softly. “Well, I could say I’m flattered
that I leave you speechless, but I won’t embarrass you. See you Monday.”

She nodded. “Monday.”

“At the office.”

She nodded again. “The office.”

“Cappie?”

She was still staring at him. She nodded once more. “Cappie.”

He burst out laughing. He bent and kissed her again. “And they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” he mused. “This is much quicker than food. See you.”

He turned and went to his car. Cappie stood and watched him until he was all the way to the main highway. It wasn’t until Kell called to her that she realized it was cold and she didn’t even have on a coat.

After that, it was hard to work in the same office with Bentley without staring at him, starstruck, when she saw him in between patients. He noticed. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling. But when Cappie started running into door facings looking at him, everybody else in the office started grinning, and that did inhibit her.

She forced herself to keep her mind on the animal patients, and not the tall man who was treating them.

Just before quitting time, a little boy came careening into the practice just ahead of a man. He was carrying a big dog, wrapped in a blanket, shivering and bleeding.

“Please, it’s my dog, you have to help him!” the boy sobbed.

A worried man joined him. “He was hit by a car,”
the man said. “The so-and-so didn’t even stop! He just kept going!”

Dr. Rydel came out of the back and took a quick look at the dog. “Bring him right back,” he told the boy. He managed a smile. “We’ll do everything we can. I promise.”

“His name’s Ben,” the boy sobbed. “I’ve had him since I was little. He’s my best friend.”

Dr. Bentley helped the boy lift Ben onto the metal operating table. He didn’t ask the boy to leave while he did the examination. He had Keely help him clean the wound and help restrain the dog while he assessed the damage. “We’re going to need an X-ray. Get Billy to help you carry him,” he told her with a smile.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is he going to die?” the boy wailed.

Dr. Rydel put a kindly hand on his shoulder. “I don’t see any evidence of internal damage or concussion. It looks like a fracture, but before I can reduce it, I’m going to need to do X-rays to see the extent of the damage. Then we’ll do blood work to make sure it’s safe to anesthetize him. I will have to operate. He has some skin and muscle damage in addition to the fracture.”

The man with the boy looked worried. “Is this going to be expensive?” he asked worriedly.

The boy wailed.

“I lost my job last week,” the man said heavily. “We’ve got a new baby.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dr. Rydel said in a reassuring tone. “We do some pro bono work here, and I’m overdue. We’ll take care of it.”

The man bit his lower lip, hard, and averted his eyes. “Thanks,” he gritted.

“We all have rough patches,” Dr. Rydel told him. “We get through them. It will get better.”

“Thanks, Doc!” the boy burst out, reaching over to rub a worried hand over the old dog’s head. “Thanks!”

“I like dogs, myself,” the doctor chuckled. “Now this is going to take a while. Why don’t you leave your phone number at the desk and I’ll call you as soon as your dog’s through surgery?”

“You’d do that?” the man asked, surprised.

“Of course. We always do that.”

“His name’s Ben,” the boy said, sniffing. “He’s had all his shots and stuff. We take him every year to the clinic at the animal shelter.”

Which meant money was always tight, but they took care of the animal. Dr. Rydel was impressed.

“We’ll give her our phone number. You’re a good man,” the boy’s father said quietly.

“I like dogs,” Dr. Rydel said again with a smile. “Go on home. We’ll call you.”

“You be good, Ben,” the boy told his dog, petting him one last time. The dog wasn’t even trying to bite anybody. He whined a little. “We’ll come and get you just as soon as we can. Honest.”

The man tugged the boy along with him, giving the vet one last grateful smile.

“I can take care of his bill,” Keely volunteered.

Dr. Rydel shook his head. “I do it in extreme cases like this. It’s no hardship.”

“Yes, but…”

He leaned closer. “I drive a Land Rover. Want to price one?”

Keely burst out laughing. “Okay. I give up.”

Billy, the vet tech, came to help Keely get Ben in to X-ray. Cappie came back after a minute. “I promised I’d make sure you knew that Ben likes peanut butter,” she said. “Who’s Ben?”

“Fractured leg, HBC,” he abbreviated.

She smiled. “Hit by car,” she translated. “The most frequent injury suffered by dogs. They know who hit him?”

“I wish,” Dr. Rydel said fervently. “I’d call Cash Grier myself.”

“They didn’t stop?”

“No,” he said shortly.

“I’d stop, if I hit somebody’s pet,” Cappie said gently. “I had a cat, when we lived in San Antonio, after Kell got out of the army. I had to give him away when we moved down here.” She was remembering that Frank had kicked him, so hard that Cappie took him to work with her the next day, just to have him checked out. He had bruising, but, fortunately, no broken bones. Then the cat had run away, and returned after Frank was gone. She’d given the cat away before she and Kell left town, to make sure that Frank wouldn’t send somebody to get even with her by hurting her cat. He was that sort of man.

“You’re very pensive,” he commented.

“I was missing my cat,” she lied, smiling.

“We have lots of cats around here,” he told her. “I think Keely has a whole family of them out in her barn and there are new kittens. She’d give you one, if you asked.”

She hesitated. “I’m not sure if I could keep a cat,” she replied. “Kell wouldn’t be able to look out for him, you know. He has all he can do to take care of himself.”

He didn’t push. He just smiled. “One day, he’ll meet some nice girl who’ll want to take him home with her and spoil him rotten.”

She blinked. “Kell?”

“Why not? He’s only paralyzed, you know, not demented.”

She laughed. “I guess not. He’s pretty tough.”

“And he’s not a bad gamer, either,” he pointed out.

“I noticed.”

“Cappie, have you got the charges for Miss Dill’s cat in here yet?” came a call from the front counter.

She grimaced. “No, sorry, Dr. King. I’ll be right there.”

She rushed back out, flustered. Dr. Rydel certainly had a way of looking at her that increased her heart rate. She liked it, too.

C
APPIE STAYED
late to help with the overflow of patients, held up by the emergency surgery on the dog. The practice generally did its scheduled surgeries on Thursdays, but emergencies were always accommodated. In fact, there was a twenty-four-hour-a-day emergency service up in San Antonio, but the veterinarians at Dr. Rydel’s practice would always come in if they were needed. In certain instances, the long drive to the big city would have meant the death of a furry patient. They were considering the addition of a fourth veterinarian to the practice, so that they could more easily accommodate those emergencies.

The dog, Ben, came out of surgery with a mended foreleg and was placed in a recovery cage to wait until the anesthetic wore off. The next day, if he presented no complications, he would be sent home with antibiotics, painkillers and detailed instructions on post-surgical care. Cappie was glad, for the boy’s sake. She felt sorriest for the children whose pets were injured. Not that grown-up people took those situations any easier.
Pets were like part of the family. It was hard to see one hurt, or to lose one.

Kell was pensive when she got home. In fact, he looked broody. She put down her coat and purse. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked with a grin.

He put his laptop computer aside with deliberation. “I had a call from an assistant district attorney’s office in San Antonio, from the victim support people,” he said quietly. “Frank Bartlett got out of jail today.”

It was the day she’d been dreading. Her heart sank. He’d vowed revenge. He would make her pay, he said, for having him tried and convicted.

“Don’t worry,” he added gently. “We’re among friends here. Frank would have to be crazy to come down here and make trouble. In addition to the jail time, he drew a year’s probation. They’ll check on him. He wouldn’t want to risk having to go back to jail to finish his sentence.”

“You think so?” she wondered. She recalled what a hardheaded man Frank was. He got even with people. She’d heard things from one of her coworkers in San Antonio at the animal clinic, one who was friends with Frank’s sister. She’d said that Frank had run a man off the road who’d reported him for making threats at one of his jobs. The man was badly injured, but he could never prove it had been Frank who’d caused the accident. Cappie was sure, now, that there had probably been other incidents as well. Frank had admitted to her once that he’d spent time in juvenile hall as a youngster. He’d never said what for.

“He won’t be able to get to you at home,” Kell con
tinued, “because I keep firearms and I know how to use them,” he added grimly. “At work, I don’t think he’d dare approach you. Dr. Rydel would likely propel him headfirst out the front door,” he chuckled.

Cappie was reminded that Dr. Rydel had actually done that. Dr. King told her about it. A man had come in with a badly injured dog, one with multiple fractures, claiming that the animal had fallen down some steps. After examining the dog, Dr. Rydel knew better. He’d accused the man of abusing the dog, and the man had thrown a punch at him. Dr. Rydel had picked him up and literally thrown him out onto the front porch, while fascinated pet owners watched. Then he’d called the police and had the man arrested. There had been a conviction, too.

Cappie, remembering that, smiled. “Dr. Rydel gets very upset when people abuse animals,” she told her brother.

“Obviously.” He pursed his lips. “I wonder why he decided to become a veterinarian?”

“I’ll have to ask him that.”

“Yes, you will. I made macaroni and cheese for supper,” he said, “when you called to say you’d be late.”

She made a face before she could stop herself.

Kell just grinned. “It’s frozen,” he said. “I heated it up in the oven.”

She sighed with relief. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve had my carbon for today.”

He laughed. “I know I can’t cook. One day, though, I’ll learn how. Then watch out.”

“Some men are born to be chefs. You aren’t one of them. I’ll make a salad to go with the macaroni.”

“I did that already. It’s in the fridge.”

She went to kiss his cheek, bending over him in the wheelchair. “You’re the nicest brother in the whole world.”

“I could return the compliment.” He ruffled her hair. “Listen, kid, if the surly vet proposes, you take him up on it. I can take care of myself.”

“You can’t cook,” she wailed.

“I can buy nice frozen things to heat up,” he returned.

She sighed. “As if Dr. Rydel would ever propose,” she laughed. “He likes me, but that doesn’t mean he’ll want to marry me one day.”

“You need to invite him over again and make that shrimp and pasta dish you do so well. I have it from a spy that Dr. Rydel is partial to shrimp.”

“Really? Who knows that?”

“Cy Parks told me.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “Did you try to pump Cy Parks for inside information?”

Kell gave her his best angelic look. “I would never do such a sneaky thing.”

“Sure you would,” she retorted.

“Well, Dr. Rydel knew why Cy was asking him, anyway. He just laughed and asked if there was any other inside information that Cy would like to have for us.”

She flushed. “Oh, my.”

“Cy said the good doctor talked more about you than he did about the heifer he was helping to deliver,” Kell added. “It’s well-known that Dr. Rydel can’t abide women. People get curious when a notorious woman hater suddenly starts seeing a local woman.”

“I wonder why he hates women?” she wondered aloud.

“Ask him. But for now, let’s eat. I’m fairly empty.”

“Goodness, yes, it’s two hours past our usual suppertime,” she agreed, moving into the kitchen. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“How’s the dog?” he asked, joining her at the table.

“He’ll be fine, Dr. Rydel said. The poor boy was just devastated. I felt sorry for his dad. He’d just lost his job. You could see he was torn between getting the dog treated and taking care of his family. There’s a new baby. Dr. Rydel didn’t charge him a penny.”

“Heart of gold,” Kell said gently.

“We were going to take up a collection, when Dr. Rydel reminded us that he drove a Land Rover,” she laughed. “He inherited money from his grandmother, Dr. King said, and he makes a good living as a vet.”

“That means he’ll be able to take care of you when you get married.”

She made a face. “Horses before carts, not carts before horses.”

“You wait and see,” he replied. “That’s a man who’s totally hooked. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

She smiled from ear to ear as she started putting food on the table. She’d already pushed her fears about Frank to the back of her mind. Kell was right. He surely wouldn’t risk his freedom by making trouble for Cappie again.

Dr. Rydel took her to a carnival Friday night. She was shocked not only at the invitation, but at the choice of outings.

“You like carnivals?” she’d exclaimed.

“Sure! I love the rides and cotton candy.” He’d smiled
with reminiscence. “My grandmother used to save her egg money to take me to any carnival that came through Jacobsville when I was a kid. She’d even go on the rides with me. I get tickled even now when I hear somebody talk about grandmothers who bake cookies and knit and sit in rocking chairs. My grandmother was a newspaper reporter. She was a real firecracker.”

She was remembering the conversation as they walked down the sawdust-covered aisles between booths where carnies were enticing customers to pitch pennies or throw baseballs to win prizes.

“What are you brooding about?” he teased.

She looked up, laughing. “Sorry. I was remembering what you said about your grandmother. Did you spend a lot of time with her?”

His face closed up.

“Sorry,” she said again, flushing. “I shouldn’t have asked something so personal.”

He stopped in the aisle and looked down at her, enjoying the glow of her skin against the pale yellow sweater she was wearing with jeans, her blond hair long and soft around her shoulders.

His big, lean hand went to her hair and toyed with it, sending sweet chills down her spine when he moved a step closer. “She raised me,” he said quietly. “My mother and father never got along. They separated two or three times a year, and then fought about who got to keep me. My mother loved me, but my father only wanted me to spite her.” His face hardened. “When I made him mad, he took it out on my pets. He shot one of my dogs when I talked back to him. He wouldn’t let
me take the dog to a veterinarian, and I couldn’t save it. That’s why I decided to become a vet.”

“I did wonder,” she confessed. “You talk about your mother, but never about your father. Or your stepfather.” Her hands went to his shirtfront. She could feel the warm muscle and hair under the soft cotton.

He sighed. His hand covered one of hers, smoothing over her fingernails. “My stepfather thought that being a vet was a sissy profession, and he said so, frequently. He didn’t like animals, either.”

“Some sissy profession,” she scoffed. “I guess he never had to wrestle down a sick steer that weighed several hundred pounds.”

He chuckled. “No, he never did. We got along somewhat. But I don’t miss seeing him. I had hard feelings against him for a long time, for letting my mother get so sick that medical science couldn’t save her. But sometimes we blame people when it’s just fate that bad things happen. Remember the old saying, ‘man proposes and God disposes’? It’s pretty much true.”

“Ah, you advocate being a leaf on the river, grasshopper,” she said in a heavily accented tone.

“You lunatic,” he laughed, but he bent and kissed her nose. “Yes. I do advocate being a leaf on the river. Sometimes you have to trust that things will work out the way they’re meant to, not the way you want them to.”

“Why do you hate women?”

His eyebrows arched.

“Everybody knows that you do. You even told me so.” She flushed a little as she remembered when he’d told her so; the first time he’d kissed her.

“Remember that, do you?” he teased softly. “You don’t know a lot about kissing,” he added.

She moved restlessly. “I don’t get in much practice.”

“Oh, I think I can help you with that,” he said in a deep, husky tone. “And for the record, I don’t hate you.”

“Thank you very much,” she said demurely, and peered up at him through her lashes.

He bent slowly to her mouth. “You’re very welcome,” he whispered. His lips teased just above hers, coaxing her to lift her chin, so that he had better access to her mouth.

Before he could kiss her, a deep voice mused from behind him, “Lewd behavior in public will get you arrested.”

“Kilraven,” Bentley groaned, turning to face the man. “What are you doing here?”

Kilraven, in full uniform, grinned at the discomfort in their faces as he moved closer and lowered his voice. “I’m investigating possible cotton candy fraud.”

“Excuse me?” Cappie said.

“I’m going to taste the cotton candy, and the candy apples, and make sure they’re not using illegal counterfeit sugar.”

They both stared at him as if he’d gone mad.

He shrugged. “I’m really off duty, I just haven’t gone home to change. I like carnivals,” he added, laughing. “Jon, my brother, and I used to go to them when we were kids. It brings back happy memories.”

“They have a sharpshooting target,” Bentley told him.

“I don’t waste my unbelievable talent on games,” Kilraven scoffed.

“I am in awe of your modesty,” Bentley said.

“Why, thank you,” Kilraven replied. “I consider it one of my best traits, and I do have quite a few of them.” He peered past them. Winnie Sinclair, in jeans and a pretty pink sweater and matching denim jacket, was walking around the penny-pitching booth with her brother, Boone Sinclair, and his wife, Cappie’s coworker, Keely. Kilraven looked decidedly uneasy. “I’ll see you around,” he added.

But instead of going to the cotton candy booth, he turned on his heel and walked right out of the carnival.

“How odd,” Cappie murmured, watching him leave.

“Not so odd,” Bentley replied. His eyes were on Winnie Sinclair, who’d just seen Kilraven glare in her direction and then walk away. She looked devastated. “Winnie Sinclair is sweet on him,” he explained, “and he’s even a worse woman hater than I am.”

Cappie followed his glance. Keely smiled and waved. She waved back. Winnie Sinclair smiled wanly, and turned back to the booth. “Poor thing,” she murmured. “She’s so rich, and so unhappy.”

“Money doesn’t make you happy,” Bentley pointed out.

“Well, the lack of it can make you pretty miserable,” she said absently.

His hand reached down and locked into hers, bringing her surprised eyes back up to meet his.

She was hesitant, because Keely was grinning in their direction.

“I don’t care about public opinion,” Bentley pointed out, “and she wouldn’t dare tease me in my own practice,” he added with a grin.

Cappie laughed. “Okay. I won’t care, either.”

His strong fingers linked with hers, while he held her gaze. “I can’t remember the last time I smiled so much,” he said. “I like being with you, Cappie.”

She smiled. “I like being with you, too.”

They were still smiling at each other when two running children bumped into them and broke the spell.

Bentley drove her home, but he didn’t move to open the door after he cut off the lights and the engine. He unfastened her seat belt, and his own, and pulled her across the seat and into his lap. Before she could speak, his mouth was hard on hers, grinding into it, and his fingers were lazily searching under the soft hem of her sweater.

She wanted to protest. It was too soon. But he found the hooks on her bra and loosened them with one quick motion of his hand. Then he found soft flesh and teased around it with such expertise that she squirmed backward to give him access.

“Too quick?” he whispered against her mouth.

“No,” she bit off, and arched her back.

He smiled as his mouth covered hers once more, and his hand settled directly over the hard little nub that raised against his palm.

After a few minutes, kissing was no longer enough. His hand moved in at the base of her spine and half lifted her against him, so that her belly ground against his in the rapt silence of the vehicle, broken only by the force of their audible breaths, and her soft moan. She could feel him wanting her. It had been exciting with Frank, but not like this. She wanted what Bentley wanted. She was on fire for him.