was glad to have that behind her, and she’d just started up the walk to the clinic when a vehicle drove in and stopped in the customer parking area. It took only a second for her to recognize Reed Kingsley’s SUV, and another second for her heart to start pounding in a ridiculously female fashion.
She gritted her teeth. Getting silly over a man was not on her agenda. It was never going to be on her agenda, and maybe today was the day to tell Mr. Kingsley to stop wasting his time in plain language…very plain language.
She hurried inside and cursed her bad timing. If she hadn’t gone to the mailbox at the exact moment she had, then Kingsley would not have known she was on the premises. She could have ignored his arrival completely, for when someone rang the bell at either the dog or cat entrance, she could check on who was out there before letting him or her in.
Feeling strangely weak, she leaned against a wall and waited for one of the bells to ring. This weakness was nothing like those chemo-related spells, she realized, and she stood there in her white lab jacket and jeans and told herself that she was not weak in the knees because of a man.
But it was a lie, she knew, and she didn’t like it one damn bit.
The cat doorbell rang, and even though Val had been expecting the sound, it made her jump.
“You damn fool,” she muttered under her breath as she made her way to the door, unlocked and opened it. There, looking sober and serious, with nary a silly grin in sight, stood Reed Kingsley, dressed in great-looking jeans, boots, a royal-blue shirt and a dark leather vest. He was holding a cardboard box, from which came the unmistakable mews of very young kittens.
Val evolved from aggravated female to competent veterinarian. “Come in,” she said, and swung the door wide for Reed to enter.
He lowered the box a little so she could see its cargo. Val saw two tiny orange tabby kittens. “They’re less than two months old,” she said. “Whose are they? Where’s the mother?”
“They belonged to one of the ranch hands. Their mother disappeared—she was a barn cat—along with a third kitten, about a week ago. Rafe thinks she was in the process of moving her kits, carrying one in her mouth, and got caught by a coyote. They are always a danger to cats and small dogs.”
“Yes, they are. Well, what are you doing with them?”
“Rafe’s been bottle-feeding these two, but he’d just as soon get rid of them, and he’s adamant about not spending any money on shots or neutering or anything else that might cost a buck.”
“Yes, well, some people feel that way, especially about barn cats. Why did you bring them to me?”
“Because I’ve adopted them, and I’m more than willing to pay for whatever you can do that will guarantee their good health.”
“I can administer the recommended shots and procedures for young cats, but I can’t guarantee their good health. No one can do that.”
Reed thought of her personal fight for good health and felt a massive amount of admiration for her spunk. He was admiring her incredible eyes, as well, and her sensual mouth. She was an unusually pretty woman, and being this near to her was so pleasurable he wished he could take up residence right here in her animal clinic so he could see her all the time.
“You’re right, of course,” he said quietly, surprised that he could speak so softly when the sound of his heartbeat pumping blood through his veins was almost deafening. “But I would appreciate your examining them and making sure they’re healthy now.”
“Follow me.” Val walked off at a brisk pace, deeply unnerved over something he couldn’t have dreamed up. But maybe he had. Maybe he’d scoured the countryside for young kittens as an excuse to see her. Was his story about how he’d come by the two adorable kittens even remotely true? She didn’t trust Reed Kingsley, she decided again as she led him into an examining room. Why on earth would she?
Then again, the man seemed perfectly trustworthy. She might even like him as a person if he hadn’t been coming on so strong since…since— Good Lord, had all of this folderol started last spring at Joe’s Bar, when she dropped her quarters?
She sighed inwardly, put on an expressionless face and picked up one of the kittens. It was so small it fit into the palm of one hand, and since she adored kittens to begin with, her entire demeanor became softer from holding this one’s warm little body.
Still, she was a vet, and she began doing her job. “This one’s a male,” she said evenly, refusing to look directly at Kingsley, whose stare seemed to be boring holes through her skin. Could he be any more obvious?
“And this kitten is also male,” she said, after examining the second one. She weighed them and looked into their mouths and ears. “They both appear to be healthy.” She recited a list of the shots they should have to avoid illness. “And I highly recommend neutering. Adding to the unwanted pet population is terribly negligent. Also, if you intend for these babies to be house cats, then declawing is something you should consider. One guarantee I can give you is that they will rip curtains, furniture and anything else to shreds. Of course, if they’re going to be barn cats, then they should keep their claws for protection.”
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