Breakaway. Rochelle Alers

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      “It’s based on body weight. I doubt if this little guy weighs more than seven pounds. You, on the other hand, would have to be injected with the entire bottle before you’d go out.”

      His eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to say?”

      Celia swabbed an area on the puppy’s hip, wiping away dirt and debris. If she’d had the time, or if the wound hadn’t been infected, she would have given the dog a bath. She gave Gavin a quick glance. “You’re at least six-four or five, and I’m willing to bet you weigh about two-twenty or thirty, and that translates into injecting you with a lot more morphine to put you down than what I’m going to give Terry.”

      Gavin exhaled an audible breath. “I really don’t like the term put down.”

      Terry let out a small yelp with a prick of the needle. Seconds later he lay completely still. His ribs were clearly visible under a sparse coat of grimy, light-colored wiry fur.

      Celia winked at Gavin, her gaze lingering on his cropped black hair. “Not to worry, Mr. Faulkner, I promise not to put you down. You can let go of his head now.”

      Concentrating intently, she shaved the area around the wound and cleaned the infected flesh. She applied a topical antibiotic then closed the laceration with small, even sutures.

      Gavin leaned over to survey her surgical skill. “You do very nice work, Dr. Thomas.”

      “Thank you. You can take your gloves off now.”

      “When is he going to wake up?”

      “He’ll probably sleep for the next two to three hours. I’m going to call the animal hospital in Asheville to let them know I want to bring him tomorrow for an observation. After that, I’m going to try and clean him up.”

      “I’ll do that,” Gavin volunteered as he gently lifted the puppy off the table.

      Celia gave him a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”

      He nodded. “Yes, I’m very sure. Where are you going to wash him?”

      “We’ll use the mudroom.”

      She led the way across the kitchen to a side door that led to an unheated mudroom. It was where she stored garden equipment and did her laundry. She filled two plastic basins: one with warm water and a mild shampoo and the other with lukewarm water for rinsing. Reaching for cleaning cloths from a stack in a canvas basket, she spread them out on the utility table attached to a wall.

      “Gavin, please try and not wet the sutures.”

      “I’ll be careful,” he said as she turned and walked out.

      He dipped a cloth into the soapy water, wringing out most of the moisture, then began the task of washing and rinsing the grime covering the puppy’s fur. Gavin poured out the water, refilling each bin before he was able to discern the white coat with a faint tan patch of color on the back of the neck, back and above the tiny tail. Wrapping a fluffy towel around the canine, he picked him up and dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

      Celia stopped in the doorway to the mudroom, smiling when she saw the tender moment between Gavin and the dog. There was something about him that enthralled her. The longer she remained in his presence, the more she knew it had nothing to do with his face or body.

      Even as an adolescent, she’d never been one to find herself attracted to a boy because he was cute. For Celia, it was always deeper than that. With Yale, it had been his passion for medicine, yet with Gavin she hadn’t been able to identify what it was. For all she knew he could be married with half a dozen children.

      When his head came up, he saw her staring at him. “He smells wonderful.”

      She smiled. “He looks adorable. I spoke to a veterinarian at the animal hospital, and he’s set up an appointment to see Terry at eleven.”

      “I’ll go with you.”

      Celia shook her head. “Don’t bother. I can take him.”

      “Are you going to be able to hold him while you drive?”

      “Maybe I’ll ask my neighbor to go with me if she’s not busy.” Children’s book illustrator Hannah Walsh was also a stay-at-home mother. She was now in her last trimester with her second child.

      “I’m on vacation which means I have a lot of free time,” Gavin countered. He wasn’t on vacation, but on assignment. Accompanying Celia to Asheville would fit nicely into his plans. He had to present himself as a tourist or garner unwarranted attention.

      Crossing her arms under her breasts, Celia angled her head. “I’m also on vacation. But wouldn’t you rather spend your free time vacationing with your family than babysitting an injured puppy?”

      She didn’t tell Gavin that she’d been on vacation for the past year. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to return to the hospital and relive the horror of the minute that had changed her and her life forever.

      A beat passed. “No.”

      “Why not, Gavin?”

      “Because other than my mother, brother and some cousins, I don’t have much of a family. I’m going with you because I’m concerned about my dog.”

      “Your dog? I save his life and you say he’s your dog?”

      “Why don’t we compromise?” Gavin suggested.

      “How?”

      “Since we’re both on vacation, we can share Terry.”

      “I’ll agree. But he stays with me until he’s fully recovered.”

      He extended a hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

      It couldn’t have worked out better for Gavin than if he’d planned it in advance. Hanging out with Celia Thomas would provide the perfect cover when he became the typical tourist, touring the area and asking questions.

      Celia offered Gavin her brilliant dimpled smile when she took his hand. Slowly, seductively, his gaze moved from her parted lips to her throat and still lower to her chest before reversing direction. She tried to ignore the eddying sensations racing along her nerve endings. She didn’t know who Gavin Faulkner was, or what he did for a living, yet she’d agreed to share a stray puppy with him.

      “Deal.”

      Gavin released her soft, delicate hand. “I’ll come by and pick you up at ten.” Turning on his heels, he made his way out the mudroom.

      “Gavin?”

      He stopped. “Yes.”

      “Leave the puppy.”

      “Oops,” he said, hiding a grin. “He’s so light I forgot I was holding him.” Celia extended her arms and he handed her the sedated dog. Taking a step, he angled his head and brushed his lips over her cheek. “Kiss Terry for me when he wakes up.”

      Celia experienced a jolt of awareness СКАЧАТЬ