Love Gone to the Dogs (6 page)

He rose, too, towering over her, his black bag clutched in his hand. "Fine, Leah."

He didn't move, however, and Leah felt swamped by his male presence. He dominated the porch. She swallowed several times, waiting for something to happen, as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff, her footing precarious, the drop hundreds of feet down. She wanted to edge away from him, but her legs wouldn't move.

He lifted his hand and touched her cheek—softly, like a warm whisper against her skin. "Sweet dreams."

As he left Leah remained transfixed, watching him stride away from her, still feeling the caress of his hand on her face. At the bottom of the steps he turned and added, "And keep that hound locked up. I like to read my newspaper before I use it for compost."

His words brought her out of her trance-like state. "Arnold does not like to be referred to as a hound. He is a thoroughbred among beagles. His papers are impeccable."

"I don't care what his papers look like. Just keep him away from mine." He waved, then jogged the distance to his house.

Leah sank down onto the swing, her legs weak, her heartbeat rapid. She suddenly felt as if the energy had been sucked out of the space around her. Oh, Dr. Shane O'Grady was a dangerous man. She could come to care for him, and that must not happen. She had to think of her family first.

* * *

Running her hand repeatedly through her short hair, Leah shuffled into the kitchen, her eyes only half open. The first rays of dawn made it possible for her to see without turning on a light, even though it was only five-thirty in the morning. An ungodly hour, she thought as she plugged in the coffeepot and then went back to the dining room to check out front.

She raised the binoculars she had gotten out of a packing box the night before and scanned the street. The newspaper boy hadn't delivered yet. With a sigh of relief, she headed back into the kitchen to take up her vigil.

Arnold was not going to outsmart her and snatch Shane's newspaper. She propped herself up against the bay window that afforded her a view of the backyard with Arnold stretched out in front of his dog
house. She could also see the gate from her vantage point and the padlock she had bought to keep it locked.

Cupping her chin in her hand, she leaned against the sill and waited. She was sure Arnold would make his move soon if he were going after the newspaper. She had purposely kept the lights off in the kitchen. She didn't want her pet to suspect she was watching him. He might have flunked obedience school, but he wasn't a dumb dog.

As she stared outside, the smell of brewing coffee saturated the kitchen like fresh rain after a long drought. She yawned and blinked. After spending a restless night tossing and turning, perhaps she should let Arnold eat Shane's paper. After all, that man was the reason she hadn't slept much. The feel of his hand on her arm, on her face, had plagued her with sensual dreams, sending her active mind into overload.

She yawned again, her head dropping forward. She jerked upright "Okay, Leah, you can do this." She looked toward the coffeepot to see if the red light had come on, but the brew was still perking, the aroma teasing her with the promise of caffeine soon.

Her attention returned to the backyard. Again she rested her chin in the palm of her hand and stared at Arnold. Her eyelids felt as if they weighed a ton. After making sure her pet was still in front of his doghouse she closed her eyes, telling herself it would only be for a minute. Surely Arnold couldn't get out of the yard that quickly.

The next thing Leah felt was the warmth of the sun as it streamed into the kitchen. Her eyes popped open. All she saw was the side of the window. Her head was cradled in her crossed arms, which acted as a pillow on the sill. Her back ached from bending over in the chair.

Straightening slowly, she was afraid to look out into the backyard. Sure enough, Arnold was gone. She glanced at the gate, which was still closed and locked. Jumping to her feet, Leah raced for the front door. Maybe she could stop the hound from chewing the paper completely. If not maybe she could get to a store, buy one, and return before Shane realized what had happened. This situation might not be a total disaster.

Yanking open the front door, she ran outside, then skidded to a halt on the porch. The newspaper was still on Shane's lawn, and it looked perfectly all right. Leah frowned, wondering where Arnold was and what he was getting into now.

She didn't have to wonder long. The next thing she saw was Arnold flying from around behind Shane's house and dashing toward her yard. Right on the dog's heels was Shane, with his arm raised, his fist clenched.

As Arnold and Shane raced down the driveway to
ward the back of the house, Leah rushed to the end of the porch and bent over the railing to see what was happening. She leaned farther out to get a better view of the gate and the pair. She watched Arnold scramble up the chain-link fence and leap into the backyard, hardly breaking his stride. Shane vaulted over the fence, and at the same moment Leah pitched forward. She screamed as she landed in the holly bushes on the side of the house.

The pointy leaves dug into her skin as she blew out a mouthful of them. She half expected to hear Arnold barking or Shane yelling, but silence greeted her as she struggled to sit up, aching in places she had never ached before.

In front of her, bare feet planted themselves a foot apart. A hand reached down toward her. Slowly, because she was afraid to see the expression on Shane's face, she looked up past the jean cutoffs, past the white T-shirt. Concern etched deep lines in his features.

"Are you all right?" His gaze raked the length of her body.

Again she had been caught wearing something less than desirable when meeting a healthy, red-blooded male. She stretched her oversized T-shirt beyond its limits, fighting the urge to blush to the tips of her bare toes. She was going to have to get a better wardrobe to sleep in—maybe long-sleeved flannel nightgowns. Right now that thought had a lot of merit, even if it was summer.

She grasped his hand, and Shane yanked her to her feet "I think so," she murmured while adjusting her attire to cover her essentials.

"Good, because I have a few things to say to you." All concern was wiped from his expression while a scowl descended.

Leah pulled a holly leaf out of her T-shirt, noting the scratches on her hand. She would have liked to escape into the house and lick her wounds, but he blocked her retreat with his large presence. "I know. Arnold got out, but your newspaper is fine."

"Well, Princess isn't"

"Who's Princess?"

"One of my dogs, and your hound had his way with her."

"What!"

"My purebred
bichon frise
will probably have a mixed litter in two months." He balled his hands at his sides. "She was to be bred tomorrow with a champion show dog. Tell me he"—Shane jerked his thumb toward the vicinity of Arnold, who was probably hiding somewhere in the backyard—"is neutered."

She winced. "Afraid not"

Shane's fists opened and then closed, his scowl strengthening.

"Maybe she didn't conceive."

"Yeah, and your hound is Prince Charming." He clenched his jaw. "If I find your dog ever sniffing around Princess again, I'll neuter him—for free."

She shifted, ready to plead Arnold's case, when pain streaked up her leg. She winced.

"You're not all right"

"It's nothing," she said, and started to step away from the holly bush, and from the man who had every right to be angry. But again pain radiated from her ankle, and she faltered. She clutched for something to steady herself and latched onto Shane's arm.

"Liar." Shane swept her up into his embrace. "Let me take a look at your ankle."

Nestled against his chest, Leah couldn't think of anything to say to his declaration. Her gaze was riveted to her T-shirt hiked up dangerously high. He followed the path her gaze took and shifted her so that she was decently covered, but not before he caught sight of the tops of her thighs and his dark eyes glittered.

Her heart responded by speeding up, and her pulse felt like pure, heated honey was flowing through her veins. This was much worse than the evening before, when all he had done was touch her cheek, her arm. This time she felt surrounded by him, almost as if she were a part of him. Oh, my, when this was over, she would have a few choice words with Arnold for placing her in such a tempting situation, and they were definitely going to visit the veterinarian to end his carousing days.

Shane carried her up the porch steps and inside her house. He didn't release his hold on her until he put her gently on the couch. Kneeling, he took her right foot in his strong hands and began to feel for any breaks.

"I don't think you broke anything. You should have it X-rayed, however, to make sure. I think it's only a twist."

"I will if it doesn't get better soon."

"I'll get you a bag of ice to keep the swelling down."

While Shane went into the kitchen for the ice, Leah frantically tried to get herself under control. That was very important because she found little else she could control with a family like hers that pushed all the boundaries. She grabbed an afghan from the back of the couch and threw it over her legs, even though the temperature was already seventy degrees outside and climbing quickly.

No matter what she told herself, her skin felt branded where he had touched her, her pulse rate unusually fast. If he didn't hurry, she would probably find herself hyperventilating before too long. She pulled the afghan up and tucked it under her arms.

"Here, this should do the trick," Shane said as he reentered the living room, his amused look taking in the fact she was covered almost from head to toe.

Not nearly enough, Leah thought as she stared at the puny bag of ice. She needed a plunge into a tub of cold water. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so hot around this man. "Thank you. I'm sure I'll be fine in no time. You should go check on Princess." She reached out for the ice pack, amazed her hand was steady.

Shane captured it and inspected it "That's a nasty scratch. I'd better clean it up."

She tried to snatch her hand away. "I can."

"Nonsense. I'm a doctor. I'm here. Where's your medicine cabinet?"

"Somewhere in one of those." She gestured toward the stack of boxes still left to be unpacked.

"Then I'll be right back."

"Don't rush on my account," she said as he quickly left.

She heard the front door open and shut and took a deep breath. A mistake. His fresh soap scent lingered on the air and filled her lungs. Doomed to be in his presence for a while longer, she sank back on the couch and closed her eyes. The aches in her ankle and her hand were nothing compared to the throb in her heart. She knew there was no future for her and Shane, and yet she reacted to his nearness like a teenager with her first crush.

She'd begun to drift toward sleep when she heard the front door crash open. Shane hurried into the room. She shot up, the blanket slipping down around her waist.

"Princess is gone, and so is Arnold.

Chapter Four

"What do you mean, gone?" Leah swung her legs to the floor and grimaced when her twisted ankle touched the carpet

"Gone as in vamoosed." Shane waved his hand to indicate what Arnold had done.

"Maybe they're not together."

"And the moon is really made of cheese. Come on, Leah. Arnold knows a good thing when he sees it."

She rose, careful not to place too much weight on her bad foot. "He might be hiding. You did scare him."

"Not nearly enough, obviously."

The scowl that accompanied that remark made her pause and swallow hard. "You aren't going to do anything rash, are you?"

"Like carry out my earlier threat?"

She nodded.

He stared at her worried expression, and his features softened. "No. I'm all bark, no bite. No pun intended." His hand closed around hers. "You sit and rest that foot while I look for them."

"No. Arnold is my responsibility. I'll help. I'm fine." When he sent her a dubious look, she added, "Really."

"Here. Let me at least clean these scratches. They'll probably be back before I finish."

She sank down onto the couch, not sure if she should trust his sudden cavalier attitude. She didn't have time to think about it, not while her heart was beating so fast and perspiration beaded on her upper lip. The plain and simple truth was that his gentle touch unnerved her. She wasn't used to tenderness, she thought as she watched him turn her hand over and examine the cuts before he opened his black bag and took out some antiseptic.

When he dabbed some cool liquid on her scratches, she quivered, not from the medicine but from the way he took care of her wounds as if she were the most important person in the world to him. For a fleeting moment it made her long for something more, for something she would never have. She had just become too cautious to put her heart in anyone's hands ever again.

"There now. I think you'll live." He curled his large hand around hers for a few seconds while his gaze touched hers.