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 from the press of his mouth on her face. She followed him as he walked through the kitchen, living room and dining area and to the door. She stood in the doorway, staring into the encroaching darkness as nightfall descended on the mountain like someone pulling down a gossamer, navy-blue curtain. She stood in the same spot, staring at the red taillights of Gavin’s vehicle until he disappeared from her line of sight.
Celia found Gavin so compelling, his virility so forceful that he reminded her of what she’d missed—had been missing—for nearly a year.
She wanted a man, but more than that she needed a man to make her feel alive, desirable. She’d joked with her brother about taking a lover for the summer. After meeting Gavin Faulkner, the joke was upgraded to a notion. Besides, she mused, she could do a whole lot worse than the hunky stranger who cooked and had a soft spot for dogs.
Chapter 4
Gavin supported his back against the headboard of the bed in the master bedroom. He’d enjoyed hanging out at this house overlooking a picturesque valley. His temporary residence was a far cry from hotel decor that failed to vary much from one chain to another regardless of the upgrade.
Scrolling through his cell-phone directory, he punched in a secure number, grinning when he heard a familiar voice come through the earpiece. The analyst had the sultriest voice of any woman he’d encountered. Now that he heard it again, there was something in its timbre that reminded him of Celia Thomas’s voice. There was just enough of a drawl in Celia’s cadence to garner his complete attention whenever she spoke.
“Good evening, Vera. When did you switch to nights?”
“I put in the request several months ago when Peter was reassigned to forensics. There’s no way we can afford to leave two teenage boys unsupervised for long periods of time. The last time Peter and I worked days they almost burned the house down. I know you didn’t call to get an overview of my home life, Gavin. What’s up?”
“I need you to run a Florida plate for me.” He gave Vera Celia’s license plate number.
“How much do you want to know about her?”
“Everything from the day she was born.”
“Let me call you back, Gavin.”
“I’ll be here.” Pressing a button, he ended the call. Gavin knew he could count on Vera Sanchez to come up with the information he needed on Celia Cole-Thomas. If he was going to connect with her on a more personal level, then he wanted to know what to expect.
She’d told him that she was a doctor—that was verified by her surgical skills. She’d also said that she was on vacation. He wanted to know where she lived in Florida, her family connections, whether she’d been married, had children and if she’d ever been arrested.
Crossing bare feet at the ankles, Gavin stared at the image of the news anchor on the flat-screen television on the opposite wall. He picked up the remote device and began channel surfing. The late-night news was over, so he had his pick of reruns, movies and infomercials.
When he spoke to Mac, he would thank his supervisor for putting him up in a place and permitting him access to cable television. He found a channel airing a movie about Nelson Mandela and the South African prison official who’d befriended him during his twenty-seven year imprisonment for his opposition to apartheid.
Halfway into the film, Gavin’s cell phone rang and he was loath to answer it. However, he knew he had to take the call. “Faulkner,” he said by way of identifying himself. His cell phone was programmed with voice recognition. If he lost or misplaced his phone and someone attempted to use it, then it would be rendered inoperable within seconds.
“Dr. Celia Cole-Thomas has a very interesting life,” Vera began.
Gavin listened, stunned by the information Vera had come up with on the woman. “Thank you, Vera. You’re invaluable.”
“Always glad to help. Be safe, Gavin.”
“Always, Vera, always.”
He hung up and closed his eyes. He’d never been shot or wounded when he’d served as an Army Ranger or during his tenure as a special agent with the Bureau. But on the other hand, Celia—who’d taken an oath to protect life—had nearly lost hers during a street-gang shootout in a hospital’s E.R., where she’d become an eyewitness to murder.
She’d said that she was on vacation, but what Dr. Thomas hadn’t said was that her vacation was also an extended medical leave.
Gavin wondered if the reason she hadn’t returned to the hospital was because she’d been traumatized by the murders, or because she was still mourning the shooting death of her fiancé.
Forcing his attention back to the film, he temporarily pushed all thoughts of the woman with the dimpled smile and sexy voice to the recesses of his mind.
Celia heard whining and opened her eyes. She sat up and scrambled off the bed. Terry was sitting up in the makeshift bed she’d fashioned from a wicker laundry basket and a pillow. After making certain he’d recovered from the effects of the sedative, she’d driven to a twenty-four-hour Walmart to pick up puppy food and supplies.
Kneeling, she picked up the puppy. He’d soiled the wee-wee pad. “Good morning, baby boy,” she crooned softly. “How are you feeling?” Celia was greeted with a yawn. “Are you still sleepy from the drug?” Terry had become her first non-human patient.
Cradling Terry to her chest, she walked to the French doors, punched in the code on the security keypad on the wall and opened the doors leading out to the deck. She placed Terry on the flagstone surface and returned to the bedroom.
Celia made a mental list of the items she had to purchase from a pet store: bed, crate, lead and harness. She wouldn’t trust the terrier to have the run of the house until he was housebroken.
She wasn’t certain whether Terry would eat, but she knew he had to get some nutrition or he wouldn’t survive. She removed the pad, returned him to the basket, carrying it down the staircase and placing it in a corner between the kitchen and pantry. The puppy’s nose twitched as he surveyed his surroundings.
Sitting on the floor, she attempted to hand-feed the puppy when he sniffed the bowl containing a small amount of dry food. He’d walked away, taking furtive steps. It took Celia