Entice Me Box Set: The Truth About Shoes and Men\Cover Me\My Favorite Mistake (12 page)

I was starving, too, but gravy still didn’t sound appetizing. Come to think of it, I wasn’t even sure I knew what gravy
was
.

“It’ll be about fifteen minutes,” Arma said, scuttling toward the diner side of the establishment and giving me a
thorough once-over in the process. “Grab yourselves a seat.”

Sam gestured toward a booth. When faced with the prospect of making small talk, I suddenly remembered my disheveled state and excused myself and Angel to the ladies’ room to freshen up. It took me two minutes to powder my nose and scrutinize my blotchy neck in the hazy mirror over the sink. For the next thirteen minutes I stared at my watch and Angel stared at me.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I said. “You’re thinking if I’m nervous about being alone with him in public for fifteen minutes, how am I going to get through this week?”

Angel tilted her head.

I moaned and leaned into the sink for support. “You’re right,” I wailed. “How am I going to get through this week?”

Seeing Sam again had hit me hard, and the scary part was that I didn’t know why. Yet. Entirely. I had a sneaky suspicion that I wasn’t ready to consider. I could admit, though, that I’d wanted to see him again, but he made me feel scared and clumsy and hungry. And the kiss had thrown me off.

I replayed the half kiss in my mind and tried to figure out what it had meant. Hello? Missed you? Did he kiss all the women he knew like that? Had he thought I expected it?

I touched my finger to my lower lip and studied my reflection. Big of eye and wide of nostril. Anxious. Confused. Allergic. And very, very out of place. I shouldn’t have come—I had a bad feeling that before I escaped Jar Hollow I was going to have to suffer through more than a long-running case of the hives.

Then my gaze was drawn to a faded Keep on Truckin’ sticker that had been affixed in who-knew-what decade in
the lower left corner of the mirror. I had the eerie feeling that it had been put there for my benefit, for this very moment. I straightened. I could keep on truckin’.

As long as it didn’t require having an actual truck, of course.

Then a light bulb flashed on in my head. I was allegedly here to get an article—if things became sticky or awkward between me and Sam, I’d simply go into interview mode. Fire questions, record answers, reestablish a professional distance.

There—I was brilliant.

Because even though the article was a cover, I was determined that this would be the best darned article ever written about a small-town veterinarian. I wasn’t sure who or what was to blame for the sudden uneasiness between me and Helena—maybe she sensed my maternal attachment toward her and was trying to put professional distance between us. I had the smarts to realize that was probably a good thing, so scoring with this piece would be just the ticket to prove to Helena I was all business, and keeping an eye on Sam would show her that I was willing to go above and beyond the call of duty for the magazine. This trip, I decided, was a means to an end—the launch of my dream to write.

Jacki’s words about resisting the temptation of Sam came back to me, and I realized that my man allergy might be my saving grace this week by helping me to keep my priorities straight. Resolve puffed out my chest—if I had to sacrifice my allergic body to male pheromones for the greater good, then so be it.

Of course, the half kiss notwithstanding, Sam Long might not be interested in picking up where we’d left off. If so, this week certainly would be easier than I’d planned.

I felt wetness on my foot and experienced a rush of
warmth toward Angel for licking me in my moment of need. Until I realized that she’d just taken a pee on my Miss Sixty’s.

It was a sign that nothing in my life these days had any intention of getting easier.

When I emerged from the ladies’ room, a line had formed. I gave the women apologetic looks and tried not to stare at their clothes even though they were staring at mine. And Angel’s. Bulky ski sweaters, jeans and tennis shoes seemed to be the norm. I reasoned that the shopping choices in Jar Hollow were probably limited, and consoled myself that I didn’t look too out of place.

“Who’s the Barbie?” someone whispered loudly.

“Is she carrying a
dog?
” another woman said.

“Must be Big City Barbie,” another added in a scathing voice.

My cheeks were burning when I approached Sam, who stood by the booth with one arm full of chicken and the other arm full of…chick.

The dark-skinned, lush-figured brunette reminded me of April Bromley, and from the proprietary way this woman touched Sam’s arm, I had a feeling that I was looking at Sam’s “type.” Not to mention his girlfriend.

Sam did start guiltily when he saw me approach. I slowed my step, lest I overhear something personal. My heart was beating harshly even while I told myself that knowing he was attached only made things simpler. Act natural, I told myself. Just as if I hadn’t been up close and personal with this woman’s personal handhold.

“Kenzie Mansfield,” Sam said, gesturing toward the gorgeous young woman. “Meet Val Jessum.”

I conjured up my best don’t-worry-he’s-all-yours smile. “Pleased to meet you, Val. Will you be joining Dr. Long and me for dinner?”

I’d caught her off guard. Eyes that had been ready to sling arrows went wide and her gaze flew to Sam’s. “Oh, well…I don’t think so, not this time.”

“Sometime before I leave then,” I said easily.

“Sure,” she murmured.

“Sorry to be in a rush,” Sam said, “but I need to get to the clinic.”

“See you later,” Val said, looking back and forth between us.

I pushed open the door, partly because I was used to doing it for myself, and partly because I didn’t want Sam looking too chivalrous around me with his girlfriend looking on.

“Sorry about that,” Sam said, when we got outside.

“About what?” I asked, wide-eyed.

He hesitated a split second, then scratched his temple. “Never mind. Follow me—if we’re separated by traffic, I’ll pull onto the shoulder and wait.”

Traffic? It was time for me to scratch
my
head. “Okay.”

He climbed into a white double-cab pickup truck— April would be drooling—and I situated Angel in the passenger seat of the Volvo.

I’d be lying to myself if I said the appearance of a girlfriend hadn’t shaken me. Did they have a commitment? And had he broken it by sleeping with me? I didn’t want to think so, but it was none of my business. In truth, it seemed downright unrealistic to think that Sam
didn’t
have a permanent woman in his life.

And I kept coming back to the question of why it should bother me—I had no claim on the man.

My mind was swirling as I opened the driver’s-side door. The quarter I’d tossed poked out beneath the seat. Tails—we should have gone back. I curled my fingers
around the coin and sighed. Too late now. I glanced to the left and Sam’s grin through the open window made my heart jerk sideways.

Too late for a lot of things.

10

T
HE DRIVE
to Sam’s place took so long, I started to think maybe I should have brought the bucket of chicken with
me
—for a snack along the way. We didn’t cover much ground, but the terrain was so rugged—and vertical—we were forced to travel at a snail’s pace. Darkness was starting to fall, and the trees lining what passed for a road blocked out what little daylight was left. I was really getting creeped out, probably because I’d seen too many horror movies set in the woods.

Just before my ears started popping from the altitude, the ground leveled out, and the trees gave way to a clearing where two buildings sat about fifty yards apart. I stared at the larger building, and my heart fell to my stomach. “He lives in a log cabin?”

I looked down at Angel, who tilted her head.

“He
lives
in a log cabin,” I repeated. I supposed the heavy feeling in my gut came from the realization that the sight before me clinched the differences between us—pint-sized apartment versus hand-hewn homestead. We might as well have lived on separate planets.

Sam parked his whopper truck between the two log buildings in a worn grassy area lit by a big globe on a telephone pole. I pulled my car into a spot next to him and climbed out gingerly.

“What do you think?” Sam asked, throwing his arm in the air toward…everything.

“It’s really…something,” I declared, circling in place. No matter what direction I turned, the scene was the same—trees. Tall and thick and unending, pressing upon us, hissing as the wind pushed them around. I longed for the comforting crush of skyscrapers and lights and street noise. Here the only sound was…whining.

I glanced toward the car and saw Angel standing with her nose pressed against the window. I jogged around to the passenger side and opened the door to let her out. But when I set her on the ground, she did a funny little dance, lifting her feet like a high-stepping show horse. She sniffed the packed ground suspiciously. It dawned on me that Angel had never before walked on dirt, and before I could snicker, I realized that the only time I had trod upon anything other than asphalt and grass was the time I’d happened upon water-line construction in Central Park.

I glanced at Sam and decided to keep the fact that I was a dirt virgin from the Eagle Scout. “Is that your clinic?” I asked, gesturing toward the smaller log building.

He nodded. “Want to see it? The Randalls are about ten minutes behind us, and I need to prep an exam room.”

“That’s why I’m here,” I said cheerfully. “Let me grab my notebook and camera.”

“You can call your boss from the phone in my office to let her know you arrived safely.”

I did just that. Sam left me in his office, then disappeared down the hall, flipping on lights to the tune of much screeching and cage-rattling in other rooms. The hair raised on my arms just wondering what kinds of creatures he housed here. Angel, the more curious of the two of us, followed him and I let her, experiencing a surge of relief that someone else was looking after her for a few minutes. I turned and stared at the unbelievable chaos he called a work space, then stepped around stacks of books, files and
paper to catch the trail of a phone line and follow it to a base unit sitting under a pile of mail. I recalled Sam’s comment about his disorganization and vowed to remember his penchant for understatement.

I blew dust off the phone, then dialed Helena’s number. She answered on the first ring.

“Kenzie?”

My chest tingled at the concern in her voice—maybe I’d imagined the recent distance between us. “Yes, Helena, it’s me. I ran into a few delays, but I’m at Dr. Long’s—”

“How is Angel?”

I smirked, thinking I should’ve known the concern was all for her dog. “She’s fine, trying to adjust to dirt.”

“
Dirt?
”

Apparently it was a foreign concept to Helena, too. “Urn, she’s fine.”

“Does Dr. Long suspect why you’re there?”

Her second concern—the magazine. I looked over my shoulder to make sure I was alone. “I don’t think so.”

“He hasn’t said anything about the cover curse, has he?”

“No, but we haven’t had much time to talk. He’s preparing for a patient now.”

“Tell me it isn’t a big, dangerous animal, like a mountain lion.”

I blinked—there were mountain lions in this area? “Uh, no, it’s just a family dog.”

“Good. Try to keep him from taking on anything too hazardous. And I’ve been thinking that someone might try to contact Dr. Long about the cover curse. Is there a way you can screen his calls?”

I frowned. “What?
No
, I can’t screen his calls. And I don’t know that it would be such a bad thing if he did find out—wouldn’t he be more careful?”

“Kenzie,” Helena chirped, “how would it look if everyone
thought we actually believed in this cover curse enough to send someone to watch him?”

Something false and fearful in her voice stirred a memory chord…the woman with the exotic voice I’d taken a message from—Madame something-or-other. The only people who went by Madame these days were brothel keepers and
psychics
. Aha! “Helena, is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

I wasn’t comfortable confronting my boss about her phone conversations, so I tried another tack. “Helena, do
you
believe in this curse?”

“Kenzie, that would be…unnatural.”

I pursed my mouth. She
so
believed in this curse. “Is that why you wanted Sam on the cover, because he’s big and strong and less likely to come to harm?”

“Oh, there’s my doorbell, Kenzie. I’m glad you and my Angel arrived safely. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

I hung up the phone feeling befuddled…and a little used. Helena hadn’t been completely up-front with me, but then again, did her opinion of this cover curse really change my circumstances? Still, I had that panicky feeling of the situation spinning out of control. And deep down, I wondered what I would do if something did happen to Sam on my watch. And how I felt about the possibility of something happening to Sam, period—not good. I toyed with the idea of telling him about the cover curse.

“How’s it going in here?”

I jumped and turned around, then my knees weakened. If possible, the man was even more breathtaking in a white lab coat. I didn’t need the stethoscope hanging around his neck to know my heartbeat had picked up. I realized how ludicrous a cover curse would sound to him, and decided
to stick with my original story—the article I was writing. “It’s going…well.”

He looked sheepish. “Sorry about the mess in here—I can never seem to catch up on my paperwork.”

“Do you have an assistant?”

“Urn, not at the moment.” He glanced at his watch. “Are you starving?”

My mouth was watering, but not for fried chicken. “I’m fine.”

“I hope this appointment won’t take too long, then we can eat and relax.”

Relax? There went my heart again. Was Sam expecting us to…you know? Somehow I had the feeling that Val Jessum wouldn’t be too keen on the idea of Sam and me…relaxing. And I had made up my mind—if he tried anything like that confusing little half kiss again, I was going to have to set him straight.