THE CALL CAME at nine in the evening and, although not unexpected, it made Dr. Mellie Roscoe sigh.
“Snugums is nesting,” Karyn Williams said, the fear in her voice obvious. “I think you should come.”
Mellie bit back both another sigh and a sharp reply. Although she was fed right up with Karyn and her drama, the probability that her Yorkie, Snugums, might have problems delivering her pups was high.
Fighting annoyance, and keeping her voice as calm and level as possible, she said, “What’s Snugums doing?”
“She’s off her food—hasn’t eaten today at all—and she’s pawing around in the nursery, pulling all the towels and blankets together. I read that’s a sure sign that she’s about to give birth.”
“Those are some of the indicators,” Mellie agreed. “Is her belly really hard?”
“I’m not going to touch her to find out,” Karyn all but wailed. “She growled at me earlier.”
There was no way to stop herself from rolling her eyes, and Mellie was glad she wasn’t face-to-face with the client.
“Well, you’re going to have to be brave because I want you to put her in the car and meet me at the clinic.”
“Why can’t you come here?” Panic laced the other woman’s tone.
“Because if Snugums or the puppies are in distress, I want to be able to operate immediately. You’re twenty minutes away from the clinic, and those minutes could make all the difference.”
“If Snugums bites me when I try to get her in the car, I’m holding you responsible,” was the unreasonable reply, followed by the unmistakable click of the phone being hung up.
It was only then that Mellie allowed herself to growl, and mutter a couple of curses. As she trailed into the kitchen to make herself a quick cup of coffee before going to meet Karyn, pairs of interested eyes followed her every move.
“Sorry, guys,” she said to the three dogs, opening the back door so they could go out and do their business. “I’m heading right back out again to meet up with a princess and her Karyn, so make it snappy.”
Under normal circumstances she’d be more sympathetic toward the other woman. After all, it was Snugums’s first litter, but it was also an ill-advised one.
When Karyn had first approached Mellie about breeding the tiny bitch, Mellie had been blunt with her opinion.
“I wouldn’t advise it, since any of the available males on St. Eustace will be related to her, and that is a risk in itself. Also, Snugums is rather small, and I can’t think of a male smaller than she is, which is advisable when breeding a bitch of this size.”
“I’ve never heard anything like that before,” Karyn had scoffed, despite Mellie being the vet and Karyn a first-time pure-bred dog owner. Mellie was sure all Karyn was interested in was the idea of the money she could make from the puppies, which longtime breeders would say was a lot less than people thought. “Why would she need to be mated with a male smaller than she is?”
“Because if she mates with a male larger than she is, there’s the risk that she can’t deliver the puppies naturally. Then we’d have to do a Cesarian section.”
Despite huffily saying she understood the difficulties, the next thing Mellie heard was that Snugums was in the family way.
It still rankled that Karyn would have ignored her advice. Having grown up with a hypercritical mother, it had taken a lot of hard work on Mellie’s part to learn to speak up firmly. Once she’d mastered the art, it was a source of annoyance when people dismissed what she said.
“Don’t worry about Karyn,” Dr. Milo said, when Mellie brought it up with him. “I told her the same thing, so it wasn’t just you she didn’t listen to.”
Worse, once it was confirmed Snugums was expecting, Karyn immediately went from cocky potential dog breeder to manic grandmother-to-be on steroids. Every few days, she’d brought Snugums to the clinic, quite sure that her “baby” was on death’s door.
Even the ever-patient Dr. Milo, who Karyn insisted take care of Snugums, had begun to get testy about the whole situation. When the older vet had what he euphemistically called “a turn”—in reality a myocardial infarction—just a few days ago, Mellie had found herself in the unenviable position of taking over the Yorkie’s care.
As if she didn’t have enough on her plate, worrying about her mentor and friend’s prospects of recovery, along with taking care of all the veterinary patients.
In fact, she’d just walked in the door after going across the island to drench a herd of cattle, which she’d only managed to get to after the clinic closed. Thankfully, being summer, she’d had enough light to get most of the herd done, and the farmer had brought out a standing light so she could do the last few.
Exhaustion dragged at her, but there was no way she would abandon a patient.
Thank goodness for her right-hand man, Johnny Luck, who’d fed all the animals after Mellie had called to let him know she’d be home late. Without the elderly man keeping an eye on things here at the shelter, she didn’t know what she’d do.
After letting the dogs back in, Mellie poured the coffee into a travel mug. Sheba trotted over to come to stand beside her, big brown eyes looking up at her as if to ask, You’re going out again?
Reaching down, Mellie scratched the little mongrel dog between her ears. “Sorry, girl. Mama’s got another doggy to take care of.”
Then, suppressing a yawn, she grabbed her tote and coffee, and went back out into the warmth and darkness of the Caribbean night to her car.
At that time of the evening it was only a ten-minute drive to the clinic, which was on a low hill on the road to downtown Port Michael, and Mellie spent the time mentally prepping for the upcoming delivery.
Since Dr. Milo’s medical emergency, Mellie had been fretting about her ability to keep the Prospect Vet Clinic running by herself. Over the five years since she started working there, she and Dr. Milo had worked out a system that ran like clockwork.
They each had their own patients, but were always on hand to help each other out when needed. They’d shared the ubiquitous dogs and cats, but Dr. Milo did a lot of the large animal work, while he preferred to leave what he called the “exotic” animals to Mellie.
On St. Eustace, “exotic” was anything other than dogs, cats or farm animals, and consisted of rabbits, guinea pigs, birds and the occasional hamster—all well within Mellie’s sphere of competence. So far no one had brought in a pet iguana, for which she was secretly grateful. She hadn’t had any practice on a reptile since leaving vet school.
And even if before this last illness Dr. Milo had been showing definite signs of slowing down, but while Mellie had been handling more of the patients, he’d still been there to call on.
Now, as she drove through the night toward who knew what drama, Mellie couldn’t help a shiver of apprehension. She’d be alone to deliver the pups—Karyn would be no help—and if she needed to do the C-section, it would be so much better to have someone there with her. The chances of finding a vet assistant willing and able to come back in to help were meager, at best. What if she lost the puppies? Or, worse, Snugums?
Then, on an inhale, she thrust her fear aside and tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
For the last couple of years, she’d been working and planning toward buying the seventy-year-old Dr. Milo out when he was ready to retire. Yes, it seemed as though that time might be coming sooner than she expected and, sure, she was finding the sudden plunge into being the only vet at the clinic harrowing. But in the final analysis, she was definitely ready if that was the way things panned out. The last four days had been chaotic, as she tried to fulfill all the obligations they’d committed to, but going forward things would smooth out.
She was sure of it.
Turning into the clinic parking lot, she drove around to the back and parked in her usual spot. The building exterior was lit by a number of lights, and the resident dogs in the kennels attached to the rear of the building let out a volley of welcoming barks as Mellie got out of the car.
Taking out her keys, she let herself into the kitchen/mudroom, and paused after pulling the door closed behind her.
“Who left on the light in the office?” she muttered, gazing at the triangle of light visible from the hallway, just as a shadow split it for a second, causing her heart to jump.
Frozen in place, her breath sawing in and out of her suddenly laboring lungs, she strained to hear anything from the office, anything at all, over the lingering barks and the rush of her own fear.
The dogs outside settled down somewhat, and in the sudden pocket of silence Mellie heard something like a bottle fall to the floor and a male voice grumble, as though in response.
And suddenly, ferociously, she wasn’t afraid anymore.
She was livid.
How dare someone break into the clinic to rob it?
Without another thought, Mellie moved on near-silent, sneakered feet toward the corridor leading to the office, pausing only to pick up the machete used to trim the bushes around the building. Then she walked along to the door, and stepped into the office she and Dr. Milo shared.
“Who are you?” she barked. “And what do you think you’re doing?”
The man, who was leaning into the medicine closet, jolted upright and spun around, whacking the side of his head on the open cupboard door so hard that even Mellie winced. But it didn’t make her drop her aggressive stance—machete held up and out, as though prepared to do battle.
“What the hell?” The man stood glaring at her, rubbing his cheek. “You scared the daylights out of me.”
“I’ll do a lot more than that,” Mellie retorted, lifting the machete a little higher and giving it a threatening swish. “How did you get in here, and what do you think you’re doing?”
But a couple of thoughts hit her just then, shaking her assurance.
Firstly, the burglar was very large. At least four inches taller than her own five-foot-eight-inch height, very broad in the shoulders and overall muscular.
Taking him on in a fight wouldn’t be easy.
Secondly, there was something vaguely familiar about him, although she knew, for a fact, she’d never seen him before. He was also—well—rather dapper for a burglar.
“Tall, dark and handsome” was such a cliché, but absolutely suited him.
With his neatly barbered hair, unwrinkled and expensive-looking polo shirt, “sleek and sophisticated” did too.
Sweat trickled down her back beneath her scrub top, as the man silently stared at her, his gaze shifting between her face and the machete. Instead of feeling scared or intimidated, Mellie was shocked by a rush of attraction, bordering on lust.
It took every ounce of determination she had not to devour his delicious body with her eyes, and to remind herself he was some kind of criminal. By the time he finally spoke, Mellie was about to scream with the tension that had built up inside her.
“My name is Delano, and I’m Dr. Logan’s son,” he said calmly, his dark gaze flicking one more time to the machete before fixing on hers. “And, Dr. Roscoe, I’d suggest you put down that machete before you hurt yourself.”
Over years of working with large animals—especially horses because of their almost psychic ability to read emotion and mood—Delano had learned to project nothing but tranquility.
Even when, like now, his instincts were screaming at him that this was a monumental moment, although he wasn’t sure of what kind.
The woman standing in the doorway looked downright Amazonian—all bristled up and ready to defend herself and the clinic, no matter the cost.
And even from across the room, the keen edge on the blade in her hand was obvious.
He recognized her, of course, from the pictures his aunt and father had sent over the last few years. Dr. Mellie Roscoe, his father’s junior associate and obvious favorite vet, present company not excepted. While they hadn’t met before, Delano could only hope that someone had alerted her to his existence, and it wouldn’t come as a shock.
Surely his father hadn’t completely excised him from all conversation? Although there was always that possibility. For too many years to contemplate, since Delano was twelve and his mother had died, there had been a huge chasm between him and his father that felt too wide to cross.
Pushing that depressing thought away, and hoping his words would defuse the situation, he kept looking at her face and therefore saw exactly when his statement sank in.
Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open slightly as her gaze scoured his face. Most importantly, the machete was lowered, so it hung by her side. But she didn’t put it down.
Then, instead of apologizing, or offering any kind of friendly overture, her eyes narrowed and her top lip curled.
“Dr. Delano Logan...” She drew his name out, making the hair on the back of his neck rise at her laconic and somehow insulting tone. “Well, that’s a bit of a surprise. What are you doing here?”
Taken aback all over again, Delano rubbed his still stinging cheek, wondering how to answer her rather rude question.
It shouldn’t be a surprise to her that Delano had traveled to St. Eustace from Trinidad to be by his father’s side after the elder Dr. Logan had a heart attack. Yet, she’d worked with his father for five years, and no doubt also knew Delano hadn’t been back to his homeland for a very long time.
Not when Dr. Milo got an award from the chamber of commerce for his contributions to island life, nor when the Caribbean Veterinary Council honored him for his years of service. Delano had even missed his father’s sixty-fifth birthday bash, although from the pictures it seemed almost the entire population of St. Eustace had been there.
He’d never even come back for any of the biennial dog shows his father organized in memory of Delano’s mother, Iris, who’d had a passionate love of all canines.
She probably was also well aware of the problems within the Racing Commission back in Trinidad. Their press releases had been carefully uncommunicative, simply saying there had been some irregularities they needed to investigate, and that they were canceling race meets until further notice. While Delano knew the full story, he’d been asked not to speak about it, and hadn’t; however, the rumors and gossip had flown and stung them all, even the innocent.
Just thinking about all those issues had guilt and shame crawling up in a heated wave from his chest into his throat, but he kept his face expressionless. There was another way to interpret her question regarding what he was doing there, and Delano quickly chose it.
“I’m looking for the broad-spectrum dewormers.” Her eyebrows rose, and her head tilted to one side, as though his reply came as the surprise he’d hoped for. “For my dog, Baldur. I forgot to bring any for him, and he’s due a dose now. I didn’t want to wait until I got back to T & T, so Dad suggested I come down and get some from here. I walked down rather than bother driving such a short way.”
She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she looked over her shoulder, and Delano saw a shaft of light that he thought was from an approaching vehicle travel across the wall outside the office.
“That’ll be my patient coming in.” Mellie glanced back at him, but there was no mistaking her dismissive tone. “Dewormer’s on the right-hand side of the other cupboard.”
Then, before he could say another word, she exited, thankfully taking the machete with her, and Delano took the first deep breath he’d been able to since he’d turned and seen her in the doorway.
His aunt had described Mellie Roscoe as a warm, fun, lighthearted person, who worked and played equally hard and got along well with everyone. Her pictures had shown a good-looking, smiling woman, almost invariably with her arm slung around some else’s shoulders.
Somehow, now, he couldn’t decide whether his aunt had misrepresented the vet’s personality, or if it were he who brought out the worst in her. What he did have to acknowledge, though, was that she was far more beautiful in person than in those photos. Rich, brown skin stretched smooth and silky over an oval face. Full lips made him think of kissing even when she was frowning, and flashing light brown eyes seemed made for drowning in. In all honesty, their encounter had impacted him in ways he hadn’t expected at all.
Even as she threatened him with a machete, he’d felt a definite thrill of attraction. One that was both unwanted and highly inadvisable. There was no room in his life for any kind of entanglement, especially not here in St. Eustace.
With a rueful headshake, Delano turned to the cupboard Mellie had indicated to hunt for the medication, all to a backdrop of muted conversation from one of the examination rooms. Thank goodness he only planned to be on the island for a couple of weeks, so he wouldn’t be too tempted to try and figure Mellie Roscoe out.
“Hey.”
He hadn’t heard her come back to the door, and only narrowly missed whacking his head again when he spun around to face her.
“What?”
“Make yourself useful, and help me do an ultrasound on a dog? She may need a Cesarean section and I need someone to keep her calm while I take a look at the puppies’ placement and size.”
She still didn’t look friendly. In fact, she looked as though asking him was the last thing she wanted to do, which made Delano feel even more annoyed. Let her handle her business on her own, then.
“Sure,” he heard himself say, contrary to his thought. He even threw in one of his best, most charming smiles for good measure. “I can do that.”
From her little snort—which sounded suspiciously like disgust—you’d think he’d refused instead. And Delano found himself smiling as he followed her out of the office and into the examination room.
This just might be fun, after all.