“I’ve got a date tonight.”

“You do?” Becca couldn’t quite keep the excitement out of her voice, but Randi gave her full marks for effort. “Who with?”

“Zack Foster. He’s the new partner at the veterinary clinic.”

“Oh?”

Randi almost smiled at the eagerness her sister-in-law was trying so hard to conceal. Except that she felt so miserable, smiling wasn’t currently an option. “I can’t go,” she muttered.

“Why not?” There was curiosity and concern in Becca’s voice.

“I don’t know,” Randi admitted. “I’ve only met the man once, and he…he scares me.”

“Zack? I’ve only seen him a couple of times and he’s big, I’ll grant you. But a teddy bear.”

“It’s not that Zack scares me, exactly,” she said, staring down at the logo on her shoe. “When I was sitting in his office yesterday, it was almost like I’d been hypnotized. I was practically ready to agree to anything he said. It was the oddest sensation….”

Dear Reader,

I’m really glad you’ve decided to join me here in Shelter Valley. I’ve been visiting this town on and off for a while now, and I find it harder and harder to leave each time I have to return to my “other” world. There’s so much going on here—so many great people, so many stories to tell….

Like the story of Randi Parsons and Zack Foster. Now, here are two interesting people. They’re both attractive, successful, honest and hardworking—and they’re both living at home at a time when they should be starting families. Because underneath all the smiles they have scars no one else can see. They touched me, I think, because they’re like a lot of us who put on our smiles to face the world when deep inside there’s pain most people never know about. Pain that sometimes attacks us in the middle of our busy days with no warning at all. Pain brought on by seemingly inconsequential things—a song on the radio, a phrase someone uses, a person who looks like someone we once knew.

I admire Randi in particular because she won’t compromise who she is, even when that person won’t fit the stereotypes people expect her to fit. She’d rather be alone—forcing herself to be happy—than lose the person who lives inside her. She makes no apologies for her differences, while accepting extreme differences in those around her. She’s a fighter. And a dreamer. A difficult combination. But a great one, too.

And Zack…well, I’m pretty certain he’ll make your heart beat faster if nothing else. He’s my idea of a hero. He’s sexy, athletic, logical, capable and he has a huge heart. Many parts of my own true-life hero slipped in here when I wasn’t looking.

So…enjoy. And don’t worry. I’ve so enjoyed my time in Shelter Valley that I’m coming back soon! I hope you will, too.

Tara Taylor Quinn

I love to hear from readers. You can reach me at: P.O. Box 15065, Scottsdale, Arizona 85267-5065 or online at http://www.inficad.com/~ttquinn

White Picket Fences
Tara Taylor Quinn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thanks to the faculty and staff in the men’s and women’s athletic departments at Scottsdale Community College, Scottsdale, Arizona. Any accurate portrayals of life in the academic sports world must be attributed to them.

Any mistakes are my own.

Dedication:

For my mother, Penny Gumser,

who gave me life.

And for my editor, Paula Eykelhof,

who brings my dreams to life.

I couldn’t have done this without either one of you.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

SOMETHING WAS MISSING.

Trailing through her house, leaving lights on in her wake, Miranda Parsons frowned. Why did she have this odd empty feeling?

She’d painted her living room last summer; she’d bought a luscious daybed ensemble with matching everything for her spare bedroom over Thanksgiving. And now, during Christmas break, she’d given the kitchen a coat of yellow paint, papered the wall in the breakfast alcove with wildflowers and hung curtains.

Her little house was finally done as she’d envisioned when she’d bought it eighteen months before. She should be feeling satisfied. Complete.

Making her way down the hall, she scrutinized the master bedroom and en suite bathroom carefully for anything amiss. The maroon comforter and pillow shams, the plush towels in the bathroom, the hand-woven tapestry rug on the bedroom floor were all as they should be. As she wanted them.

She loved this house.

So what was missing?

It was Tuesday morning, the second of January. She had another week off before she had to report back to school, once again taking up her position as women’s athletic director at the university. Though she’d been hoping to get to Phoenix for several rounds of golf with some friends, it was equally important to make sure her living space was just right. She could do more here if she needed to.

If only the place would speak up, tell her what to do. There certainly wasn’t anyone else here to give her any suggestions.

Randi wandered outside. Shelter Valley’s blue skies and sunshine she took for granted, though she loved them, too. Even a temperature of 65 degrees in January was a given. The tiny patch of grass in her front yard was as green and verdant as it should be. The stucco finish on the house looked great.

Sitting on the boulder in her front yard—a costly bit of landscaping she was very happy with—Randi folded her arms and surveyed her property. Yep. She was still certain the place suited her.

So why in hell didn’t she feel complete?

She could get a pet. Except that she thought they were mostly nuisances.

Or a roommate. Yuck.

Maybe she needed Surround Sound. She was no electrician, but surely one of her brothers could be prevailed upon for his expertise. There had to be some benefit in putting up with the four of them.

Will was out—he was too busy being important at the university. And spending every spare minute of his life with his adorable baby girl.

Randi was spending a lot of spare minutes with the little miracle herself.

So maybe Paul could help her. He’d rewired his attic a few years ago. Surround Sound might be just the ticket.

Except she didn’t really want it. She was perfectly happy with her stereo system. She had digital cable television, too.

Her neighbor passed by, walking her dog. The little thing peed on the edge of Randi’s fertilized grass.

Maybe she needed a fence.

Yeah.

Looking around the perimeter of her front yard, noticing how it ran right off to the sidewalk without so much as a by-your-leave, she nodded. That was it. When she was growing up, she’d always had this image of a home with a picket fence. Probably got it from watching too many reruns of The Donna Reed Show or Leave It to Beaver.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Randi slid off her boulder and went back inside. Thank goodness that was settled. She probably didn’t have time this break to install a fence, which was fine with her; she could go to Phoenix and play as good a round of golf as she was still capable of playing.

But come spring break, she’d get this done.

All her life needed was a white picket fence.

HE’D MADE IT through New Year’s. Zack Foster heated up a frozen dinner Tuesday night, feeling rather proud of himself. He’d taken a dose of his own medicine—let the animals he cared for ease him into the barren new year. Pet therapy.

He’d spent New Year’s Eve with the boarders at the veterinary clinic, giving his employees the night off to be with family and friends. He’d walked the dogs, scratched the cats’ ears, thrown balls and given treats, filled bowls and water bottles, and graciously accepted his due of kisses and purrs.

Whistling as he pulled the foil off his steaming lasagna, he reflected on the previous day, pleased to know, firsthand, that the program he’d dedicated a good portion of his career to really worked. Animals, simply through their unconditional—and sometimes unsolicited—affection, could ease the burdens of human beings.

New Year’s Day, he’d been on duty, taking the emergency cases at the clinic—a dog hit by a car, a bird with a broken wing, a cat with a bleeding paw—so that his partner, Cassie Tate, could go to Phoenix with her parents and two youngest sisters to spend the day with her uncle and his family.

Yes, he’d done well. Was damn proud of himself. As a matter of fact, now that he’d made it through the last of the holidays, he deserved a beer.

A bit of tomato sauce dripped from the foil he’d removed from his dinner and plopped on the ceramic tile of his kitchen floor. Ignoring it, Zack deposited the foil in the trash and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.

By the time he’d opened the bottle, the floor was clean. Thanks to Sammie, his canine garbage disposal.

“Good girl, Sam,” Zack praised the Sheltie. Sam wagged her tail, turned a circle and barked. Hearing her, Bear, his fifteen-year-old poodle-Pomeranian mix, trudged out to the kitchen to see what he’d missed. His chocolate-colored body seemed to move more slowly every day.

“Here you go, boy,” he said, dropping a bite of lasagna on the floor beneath Bear’s nose. And then, while the dog lapped heartily, he asked, “How’s that new arthritis medicine working?”

Bear licked his chops and, staring up at Zack, lay down right where he was.

“You’re all right, Bear, my man,” Zack said, testing the lasagna himself. “You’ve got a healthy heart, and we’ll find something that makes those bones of yours more willing to serve you.”

He took a swig of beer. And another. He’d had Bear since he was in high school. Didn’t look forward to the day when his pal would no longer be lying at his feet, silent but loyal company.

Lasagna long gone, kitchen cleaned and three beer bottles emptied, Zack took his fourth bottle out back to his patio and the seven-foot deep pool in his backyard. Sammie trotted at his heels, her mouth open in the smile she wore much of the time. Bear followed more slowly.

Flipping the switch beside the pump, Zack turned on the lights by the pool. The pool was heated; he could get in if he wanted to. But he didn’t feel much like swimming. After a long couple of weeks at the clinic, he really just wanted to sit.

Zack lounged in one of the two chaise longues that had been just about his only furniture for the first six months he’d owned this house. He didn’t move, except to retrieve another beer—and then the entire twelve-pack to save himself another trip in. Stars were out; he could look for the big dipper.

“It’s not you, Zack, it’s me….”

Dawn’s pretty face swam before his eyes, her intelligent compassionate voice ringing in his ears.

Zack shook his head, blinked until the lighted water in front of him came back into focus.

He didn’t need to relive it all again. He’d been over everything so many times it was mush. There was no point in revisiting any of this—ever. He’d looked at the breakup of his marriage from angles that mathematicians didn’t even know existed.

And the facts never changed.

It was why he’d come to Shelter Valley. To forget Dawn. To get away from the constant memories.

And because he’d been intrigued by Cassie’s offer of a partnership. Her timing had been impeccable.

He took another swig of beer. All he wanted was to relax. Maybe fall asleep out here, where the night air would keep him cool, where there were no walls to close him in.

The house he and Dawn had owned in Phoenix was spacious, full of windows. Sammie and Bear had had a huge backyard filled with luscious grass and their own doggie door to let themselves in and out. Dawn had insisted on that for the summer months, when it was too hot to leave them outside all day while they were both at work. She’d sure loved the dogs.

Maybe they should’ve had children. She’d said she wasn’t ready. And Lord knew Zack had his plate full, as well, working in one of the largest veterinary clinics in the city. But maybe if she’d had children at home…

Zack shook his head again, then took another swig of beer.

And he remembered…

“ZACK, WE NEED TO TALK.”

He came more fully into the bedroom, watching as Dawn zipped up the back of her chic navy-blue dress. He thought of offering to help, but knew that if he did, neither one of them would get to work on time.

“What’s up?” he asked her. She’d been out late the night before, another dinner meeting. Dawn was an advertising executive and often worked late in the evenings.

“I just need to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until tonight?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb even though he really needed to leave if he was going to make his eight-o’clock appointment to spay Mrs. Andrews’s new beagle. But he was enjoying the view, watching as Dawn put on her earrings, clasped her watch around her wrist. Applied lip liner and then lipstick. She was one of the most feminine women he’d ever met, and after living almost thirty years with his own large athletic body, he was fascinated by the contrast between the two of them.

He’d had lovers before Dawn, feminine women who complemented his masculinity, but none of them had captivated him as much as she had.

He tried to meet her eyes in the mirror over her dresser, but she was obviously preoccupied.

She turned to face him and Zack straightened as she finally met his eyes. “No, it can’t wait,” she said. Her tone was serious. “I promised myself I’d do this now, and if I don’t, I’m not sure when I will.”

This didn’t sound like a dinner engagement she’d forgotten to mention. Something was wrong. His muscles tensed as he waited.

He’d never known Dawn to have problems talking to him before.

“I want a divorce.”

He fell back a step as the words hit him, but they didn’t really register.

“What?”

“I want a divorce. I’m going to file today.”

“What?” Same word, a little louder. Still no comprehension.

“I know this is hard, coming out of the blue, but you have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about it, and now that I know for sure, I just have to do it and get it done.” She was talking so fast he could hardly keep up with her.

Mrs. Andrews’s beagle was going to have another day, another chance.

Zack took a deep breath. “What’s wrong?” he asked. If only he could get to the root of this problem he hadn’t even known he had. He was sure they could fix it, whatever it was. He and Dawn were great together. Their relationship worked smoothly, and they solved problems by consensus. They compromised easily, hardly ever disagreeing.

They were a good pair. A team.

Just look at the beautiful house they owned and ran together. Their well-organized lives. The dogs they both adored.

Her eyes lifted, met his again. He glimpsed the pain in them, the regret, and started to feel sick.

“I can change.” He said the first thing that came to mind, idiotic though it was. Not that he wasn’t willing to do whatever he could to save his marriage, but he had no idea what was even bothering her.

Maybe she hated Phoenix, wanted to move. Maybe she’d had a job offer somewhere far away—like Massachusetts. He’d hate to give up his practice, his patients, but he would. He’d hate the cold weather, too. The snow. But he’d adjust.

She’d do the same for him if the situation were reversed.

They were a team. Comfortable. Part of the same whole.

“It’s not you, Zack,” she said, her voice breaking as she turned away, fumbled with the diamond tennis bracelet he’d bought her for their fifth anniversary.

“What is it?” he asked again, standing upright, his muscular frame leaving barely any space in the doorway. He had some crazy notion of blocking her escape should she try to leave before she came to her senses, before he helped her work this out. But he knew that if she pushed past him, he’d let her go.

He had to. They were equals. A team.

His pager went off. Zack ignored it. His staff would be worried; he never missed an appointment. But for once, they’d have to wait. They’d understand.

Dawn stopped fiddling with her jewelry and Zack approached her slowly, taking her slim shoulders in his hands. “Talk to me, honey,” he said. “I know we haven’t spent much time together in the past year or two…” Make that five or six. “We’ve both been so busy getting established, but we’re there now. We can finally afford to slow down a little bit, take those trips we always talked about.”

She shook her head, cutting him off. When Zack looked up, he saw tears in her eyes.

“There’s someone else,” she whispered.

Jerking his hands away from her, he backed up a step. “You’ve slept with another man?”

The thought had never even occurred to him. She was his wife.

“No.” She shook her head.

Thank God.

“Where would I ever find a man better-looking than you?” she asked, giving him an intimate little smile through her tears.

“Indeed,” he agreed, because she seemed to expect it. He’d certainly never had troubles attracting women—the best-looking women. But he wasn’t foolish enough to think that looks were all that mattered in a relationship. Far from it.

“I knew this was going to be hard,” she whispered, still standing there by her dresser, watching him. “But I had no idea it was going to be this hard.”

“Dawn, for God’s sake, tell me what’s wrong.” He couldn’t ever remember being so tense. Wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand there calmly discussing things that made no sense.

“I’m in love with someone else.”

But she’d just told him there was no one else. He was the best-looking man she’d ever seen.

“Who?”

She turned away, and something inside Zack cracked wide open.

“Barbara Sharp.”

He frowned, his head spinning. He had to be missing large parts of this conversation.

“The golfer?” he asked. Zack didn’t follow the game, but the Sharp woman was a local and had been in the news a lot lately.

Dawn nodded.

“But…”

Zack swallowed. Suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but in this house—their house.

As the air grew almost too thick to breathe, Zack refused to utter the words screaming inside him. They were so incomprehensible he couldn’t even say them.

Dawn finally turned toward him.

“But she’s a woman.” The words came, anyway. Zack wanted to snatch them back.

More so when he saw the pathetic glow in his wife’s eyes as she nodded again.

CHAPTER TWO

ZACK TOOK ANOTHER SIP of beer, tried to clear his head, to send himself on another path. But the words and pictures just kept coming.

“But she’s a woman.” He’d said the words so innocently, as though his wife didn’t know damn well what she was asking him to accept. Even now, after almost a year, he still couldn’t believe that his wife had left him for a woman. That the woman he’d slept with for six years was more attracted to her own sex than she was to him.

He finished his beer in one long gulp and opened another.

In spite of making every effort not to fall in to the trap, he was back there again, seeing that glow in her eyes…

HE REELED BACK, feeling as though he’d been sucker punched. He had been sucker punched.

“I’m so sorry,” Dawn said, her voice barely audible as her tears started to fall in earnest. “You don’t know how hard I’ve fought this, but I just can’t fight anymore.”

There were a million things he didn’t say. Accusations. Questions. Zack couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even think clearly enough to string coherent thoughts together. He could only stand there and stare at his sweet feminine wife. And wait.

Wait for her to do something. To take back the things she’d just said. Things that were too terrible to bear.

“Last night Barbara asked me to move in with her, and I can’t tell her no, Zack. I want to be with her, to share her life more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. Suddenly things feel right—peaceful. When I’m with her, I feel…complete.”

It just kept getting worse. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“A while.”

“How long?” He was sure it didn’t matter, but he had to focus on something before he crawled right out of his skin.

“I met her last year at the Phoenix Open.”

She’d been there as a company sponsor, schmoozing in a VIP booth.

“You’ve been seeing her for more than a year?” He thought of all the nights he’d made love to her in the past fourteen months.

“For a long time we were just friends.”

“Define ‘long time.”’

“I don’t know. Six months, maybe.”

Which left eight unaccounted for. He nodded, clenching his jaw so hard it ached.

“Then, one night after we’d gone to a movie, she asked me if I wanted to stop by her place for a drink….”

“I don’t want to hear this.” He ordered himself to vacate the premises, but his damn feet wouldn’t move. There was going to be a punch line here somewhere. He just had to wait for it.

“She came out to me that night…”

“What does that mean?” The words were clipped, but they were the best he could do.

“She told me she was interested in having a relationship with me and asked me if that was something I would consider.”

“Friendship wasn’t relationship enough?” he muttered sarcastically. His world was out of control and he couldn’t seem to stop it from spinning faster and faster.

“I know this is hard for you to understand—”

“Damn straight it’s hard,” he interrupted. “Try impossible.”

Dawn sank down onto their bed, and as much as he wanted to hate her, Zack had to admire the way she was sticking this out. Trying to do the decent thing by him. Some distant part of Zack even appreciated the attention she was giving him.

“I’m in love with her,” she said, shaking her head helplessly.

“We’re talking about a woman here!”

“I know.” Her face lined with confusion, she sounded as though she was finding it as difficult to make sense of all this as he was. Except that she’d apparently had a lot longer to get used to the idea. Eight months, to be exact.

Zack turned away. He couldn’t even look at the bed he’d shared with her during the past eight months. Couldn’t think of all the times he’d made love to her.

Oh, God. He felt sicker than ever. Had she been thinking of another woman whenever he’d…

“How does a woman suddenly decide she wants another woman?” he demanded, feeling frustrated. Hurt.

“I suspected I might be a lesbian even before we got married.”

“You had relationships with other women way back then?” He swung around to pin her with an accusing glare. How in hell could he not have known?

“No.” She shook her head, withstood his look. “I could never quite acknowledge that there were just times when I’d feel something—or more importantly, wouldn’t feel something.”

That punched him in the gut. “You were faking the whole time you were with me?”

“No!” She stood, approached him, stopping only when he started to back away from her. “That’s just it. When I met you, when you touched me, I felt real desire for a man for the first time in my life. I can’t tell you how relieved I was.”

Zack held out a hand to her. “Then…”

She shook her head, forestalling his words. “It didn’t last,” she said. “Or at least, not strongly enough. I feel things when I’m with Barbara that I’ve never felt before. This is right for me, Zack. I’m one hundred percent sure of it.”

There appeared to be nothing left to say. Hands in his slacks pockets, Zack wondered how best to extricate himself, pride intact.

“I care very much for you, Zack,” she said beseechingly. He couldn’t figure out why she’d bothered to say that.

“Not enough, apparently.”

“Plenty,” she countered. “More than you’ll ever know. It’s killing me to do this.”

“Then don’t do it.” So much for pride. “Let’s just forget this whole conversation ever took place.”

But could he really? Every time he looked at her he’d have to picture her with—

“I just don’t feel anything…sexually when I’m with you.”

He felt the blood drain from his face.

“I want more than anything to be your friend.”

“I don’t think that’ll be possible.” The cold voice that said those words wasn’t one he even recognized.

Dawn bowed her head. “I understand.”

“Do you?” the stranger’s voice continued.

“Yes,” she whispered, fresh tears pooling in her soft blue eyes as she looked up at him. “Please, please don’t blame yourself for this,” she begged him, touching his arm.

Zack jerked away. “Who else am I to blame when my wife tells me that I’m not only unable to keep her happy in our bed, I can’t manage to keep her at all? That she doesn’t want to be married to me because…because I’m the wrong sex. If that makes any sense.”

“I had the…tendencies before I ever met you, Zack.”

“But I was able to change that. To turn you on.”

“For a brief time, yes.” She nodded.

“Maybe if I’d been man enough, the time wouldn’t have been so brief.” His own voice was back—sort of. It was thick with emotion. Saying things he couldn’t stomach.

“If you hadn’t been such an incredible man, I would never have felt anything to begin with.”

“Perhaps that would have been better.”

“Perhaps. For you, at least.”

He glanced over at her, wondering what she meant by that.

“I’ll never be sorry that I knew you Zack. You’ve added dimensions to my life that I’ll cherish forever.”

He didn’t need any of her sap for his battered pride. He didn’t need anything from her.

He knew what she was saying. Understood that he wasn’t to blame for Dawn’s choices. But deep down in his gut, he still felt responsible. Somehow.

“I’ll be gone tonight,” he told her, striding for the door.

“You’ll need time to arrange for movers and—”

“I don’t want a damn thing from this house,” he said, “except Sammie and Bear. They’re mine.” That was the only thing he was sure of. “You can have it all—sell it all—I don’t give a damn what you do with it….”

A wet nose nudged Zack’s palm, brought him back to the present. He ignored it. He still didn’t give a damn. It was the only way to get from one day to the next. Because you couldn’t take anything for granted. Not even something as basic as love and marriage. One minute it was there, and the very next minute, reality could completely change.

The only given was himself.

The nose nudged him again. Harder.

Looking into Sammie’s big dark eyes, Zack sighed, setting down the bottle he still clutched in one hand. Hell.

He’d gone and done it, anyway—he’d thought of Dawn. Relived that whole last horrible scene—for the first time in weeks.

He’d wallowed.

And he hated that.

“Okay, Sammie, my girl, from now on, we play catch in the evenings, got it?” he asked.

She wagged her tail, turned in a circle and barked.

Now there was one female he could count on.

IN DEFERENCE TO the cooler sixty-degree temperature, Randi pulled a sweatshirt over the usual bike shorts and cropped T-shirt she wore to work. And added the finishing touch, the sports socks and tennis shoes that were also standard attire for the youngest women’s athletic director Montford University had ever had. Classes didn’t start for another week—the fifteenth of January—but Randi, along with the rest of the Montford faculty, was due back the Monday before.

Not a minute too soon, as far as she was concerned.

Running her fingers through her short blond hair, she dashed for her Jeep. She had a meeting later that morning with her head basketball coach—recruitment possibilities to discuss—but Randi had something else to accomplish first. Something to knock off her list—she hoped.

The Shelter Valley Veterinary Clinic was just around the corner from downtown, not even a block from Main Street. The newish-looking structure was familiar to Randi, but only from a drive-by position. She’d never had reason to visit it before.

And hoped never to have reason to visit it again.

What could Will have been thinking, giving her this assignment? He had to know she’d try to unload it.

Which might very well have been his plan. Cancel the whole thing. Who ever heard of a university having a pet-therapy club, anyway?

Parking the Jeep, Randi hopped out and latched the door behind her. She could just picture it, a bunch of dogs in private offices, sitting in armchairs in front of couches, administering therapy to emotionally disturbed people.

Shaking her head, she entered the building. Cassie Tate had opened the clinic almost three years before, but from what Randi had heard, she wasn’t in town all that much now that she was teaching the rest of the country about pet therapy. Randi had gone to school with Cassie, and while they hadn’t been particularly close—Cassie had only had eyes, and time, for Sam Montford, and Randi had already been in training for her stint with the Ladies Professional Golf Association—Randi had always respected Cassie.

“Can I help you?” a young college student asked from her position behind the reception counter.

“Sure,” Randi said, glancing around the waiting room as she approached. One woman with a cat. In a carrier. “Is Dr. Foster around?”

“Zack?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have an appointment?” The girl looked down at the book in front of her and then over the counter to notice Randi’s lack of a pet.

“No,” she said. She’d been hoping to just pop in and make this short and sweet. Emphasis on short.

“Can I tell him who’s here?”

“Randi Parsons. I’m from the university, and I need to speak with him about the pet-therapy club.”

The girl nodded and pushed through a swinging door behind her.

Okay, Randi understood the part about extracurricular activities on campus and even the fact that she had to be an adviser. She’d managed to avoid it so far, although most of the Montford faculty served eventually. It kept the teachers and students unified, working toward common goals. Many of the activities were community-oriented, which helped solidify the values of which Montford was so proud. She was for all of that. Would lobby for it, if necessary.

But pet therapy?

“You can go on back.” The receptionist had returned. “He’s in his office, third door on the right.”

“Thanks,” Randi said, rounding the counter with her fingers crossed. Five minutes should make all the difference.

She’d seen Dr. Zack Foster from a distance. In a town the size of Shelter Valley, it was pretty much impossible not to at least catch a glimpse of each of the two thousand or so permanent residents at some time or other. Even if said resident had been in town for less than a year. There was only one major grocery store, two gas stations, one real restaurant. Everyone was seen eventually.

Besides, Zack Foster was a basketball fan. She’d noticed him at one of the final women’s games when Montford had been on its way to the championship.

Which they’d won. Randi still felt a little glow of pride when she thought about it.

Seeing him from a distance was nothing like being in the same room with him. Up close he was huge. Not an ounce overweight, just muscular. Solid.

“Dr. Foster?”

“Please, call me Zack.” He rose and offered her his hand.

Randi swallowed. “I’m Randi Parsons.” Her voice almost cracked.

What the hell was the matter with her?

“Good to meet you,” he said, looking at her oddly. “I followed Montford’s women’s basketball last season. Very impressive.”

“Thanks.”

She’d been around big men all her life. Had four of them for older brothers, and ever since she’d been able to walk she’d been able to take on all four of them with one hand tied behind her back. Both hands, if it came to that.

He didn’t sit back down. Didn’t offer her a seat, either, not that she planned to stay long. At least she didn’t think she planned to. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. And they were boring holes in her.

“Uh, do I, uh, have jelly smeared on my mouth?” she asked, wiping her lips even though she hadn’t had jelly in years. Or breakfast that morning, for that matter.

“No, of course not.” His gaze dropped. “Sorry about that. Please, have a seat.”

Randi sat. She had the strangest feeling that she’d do just about anything the man asked of her right then. A feeling she’d never had before in her life. One she hoped never to have again.

“I, uh, just wanted to speak with you a moment about Montford’s pet-therapy club. I was told you’re administering it from the professional side.”

“I am.” He nodded, one thumb busy thumping a folder on top of his desk.

The man was having the most discomforting effect on Randi. She had no idea what to do with it. Her only consolation was that he seemed to be just as uncomfortable as she was.

Good. That should make it even easier to accomplish her task.

“I’ve been assigned to be the club’s faculty adviser.”

“What happened to Dr. Randolph?”

“He retired.”

“Oh.”

The vet’s blue eyes were studying her again, as though he saw something he didn’t know what to do with, either.

She’d help him out. Help them both out.

“The thing is, I know Cassie’s made quite a name for herself with her pet therapy, helping emotionally disturbed people and all, but this club, it can’t have any real impact. The kids running it aren’t trained like Cassie is. Nor am I. We don’t have the psychology background.”

“There are many kinds of pet therapy—”

“I’m just thinking that, with Cassie being out of town so much and you having to carry an extra load, we’d be remiss not to understand your commitments and cancel the club, at least for this semester. Let you off the hook, so to speak.”

“I don’t want to be let off the hook, but thank you for your consideration.” If she wasn’t mistaken, his words held just a bit of mockery. As though he knew she hadn’t really been thinking of him at all.

Or, at least, only as an afterthought.

Randi wanted out of this assignment. More than ever, now that she was actually sitting here with Zack Foster. His glance was so powerful, something about him so compelling, her stomach was almost quivering.

Her stomach never quivered.

“What good are a bunch of untutored college kids going to be?” she asked, determined to do what she’d come here to do and get the hell out of there. “I don’t imagine they can learn enough about therapy in the five short meetings allotted to us.”

“They don’t need any training at all,” Zack said with great confidence. “And the meetings aren’t all that short. We take four or five trips a semester into Phoenix to nursing homes there. I provide the dogs, you provide the dogs’ partners, whose only job it is to take the dogs into different rooms and let them do their stuff.”

He lost Randi with the remark about meetings that weren’t short. She had a very full schedule this semester. She had a new cross-country coach to stay on top of and a budget that wasn’t going to stretch all the way. Plus, the athletic conference of which Montford was a part was completely reworking its policies this spring. And in her spare time, her focus had to be on recruiting for the basketball team so they weren’t a one-season wonder. She needed the gate money or she’d have to consider cutting the women’s gymnastics program.

Men’s gymnastics had already been cut to give women’s athletics a more equitable financial share.

“This is all very altruistic,” she said, knowing she should be stating her case more strongly—even while her tongue failed to do so. “But do you really think it’s worth the effort to take a bunch of kids into Phoenix when your time—and mine—is at such a premium?” She didn’t want to waste four or five afternoons on something as frivolous as pet therapy, but neither did she want to bring a frown to that face. She didn’t want to earn Zack Foster’s disregard.

Which made no sense at all. She hadn’t cowered before a man’s displeasure her entire life. A woman in athletics couldn’t afford to let men intimidate her. She’d never get anywhere. Randi lived in a man’s world and could hold her own with the best of them.

“I take it you aren’t thrilled with this appointment,” Zack drawled, a half smile on his face.

“Let’s just say I don’t have time to waste,” she answered curtly. It was the best comeback she could manage.

And it wasn’t all that good.

CHAPTER THREE

“WHAT MAKES YOU so sure the pet-therapy club would be a waste of time?”

She threw up a hand. “What’s an animal going to do for some frail old person that modern science and medication isn’t already doing? Except bring germs into an already fragile environment? Or scare them half to death.”

He sat back, hands steepled under his chin. “Germs?”

She was not going to be intimidated. His opinion of her mattered not at all. Her time did.

“Everyone knows that dogs, you know, lick themselves.”

“Yeah.”

“In, uh, inappropriate places.”

“They also have the cleanest mouths of just about any creature, including human beings. They excrete a natural antiseptic which is why, when they lick a wound, it heals faster.”

She hadn’t known that—exactly—but it still didn’t change her mind. “So how many old people need wounds licked?”

“It might also interest you to know,” he continued as though she hadn’t even spoken, “that it’s been scientifically proved that petting an animal—a dog—reduces blood pressure in people.”

He was a veterinarian. He’d dedicated his life to caring for beasts. He was supposed to say stuff like that. “So does medi—”

“Pets also provide relief from depression—a disease that abounds in nursing homes.”

Nothing a good psychiatrist couldn’t do.

“Listen, I’ll be honest with you,” she said. “I just don’t have the time this semester to chase off to Phoenix on the off chance that we’ll find some depressed old person with high blood pressure. An old person, moreover, who wants his privacy invaded by a college kid and a dog.” Put that way, the project sounded as invalid as she believed it to be.

He shrugged. “So get someone else to take your place.”

Didn’t he think she’d already tried that? “I can’t.” Having your brother as president of the university for which you worked definitely had its drawbacks.

“You’ve never had a pet, have you?” His smile slid all the way through her. Her legs were a little shaky now, too. Must be hunger. She had an energy bar out in her glove compartment that was calling to her.

“No.” And she didn’t want a pet. All that hair and slobber. Ugh. It gave her the willies just thinking about it.

Besides, dogs bit. Randi shuddered.

“This is probably a little forward, but I’d like a chance to convince you how worthwhile this program is. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Yes.”

No. I meant no.

“It’s a date, then.” He stood up before Randi could tell him she’d said the wrong word. She didn’t date. Before she could tell him she’d changed her mind, he said, “I’ll pick you up at six, if that’s okay with you. We can drive into Phoenix.”

A date. She didn’t remember how to go on a date. It’d been years since she’d even tried.

She had to tell him she’d said yes but meant no.

Somehow, Randi found herself back in her Jeep with absolutely nothing accomplished. The man had the strangest effect on her. She was still stuck with pet therapy. And there was another pressing problem on her horizon, as well.

She had twenty-four hours to find something to wear.

IT TOOK ABOUT ten minutes to wipe the smile off Zack’s face. What the hell was he doing?

So Randi Parsons was an attractive package. Her sexy long legs in those tight black shorts had been enough to wind him. And she was smart and sassy, too. But he’d been with several attractive intelligent women in the ten months since Dawn had filed for divorce. Had enjoyed them very much. He wasn’t in any way desperate for an attractive woman.

And he could sure as hell find one who offered a lot more promise—a lot less aggravation—than Randi Parsons. The woman hated animals.

And she was an athlete. Just like Barbara Sharp.

What did that make him? A masochist?

BECAUSE HE’D PLAYED CATCH with Sammie every night for the past five nights and the poor girl deserved a rest, Zack stopped by Ben and Tory Sanders’s apartment, instead. He had a sample bag of dog food for Buddy—the dog he’d talked Ben into adopting when the young man had first come to Shelter Valley the previous fall—and a free pass for Ben’s seven-year-old daughter, Alex, to take horseback riding lessons. The owner of the stable was a client of Zack’s.

“You two are looking good,” he said to his friends, married almost a month now, as he sat across from them in the living room. They were sitting about as close as they could sit without actually touching. Alex was in their bedroom, playing a video game that Tory had hooked up to their television for her.

Tory looked at Ben, smiled and then looked down.

“We’re doing great,” Ben said. “Thanks for the riding lessons,” he said, his eyes forthright as they met Zack’s. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was nothing.” The stable owner had been more than happy to pay part of his monthly bill with the lessons.

“Consider it rental payments for your truck all those times last fall when you drove me into Phoenix to pick up my furniture,” Zack told his friend.

“You got the whole place furnished yet?” Ben asked with a grin.

“Just about.” Zack took a sip of the lemonade Tory had served him. “The spare bedroom is still empty, and the office needs more than a desk, but otherwise, I’m done.”

Buddy came in from the bedroom, sniffed Zack’s shoes and then hopped into his lap.

“Buddy, down,” Ben ordered.

Buddy lay in Ben’s lap.

“Buddy, get down,” Tory said softly.

Buddy dropped to the floor and ambled over to lie down at Tory’s feet.

“It’s clear who’s the boss around here,” Zack teased his friend.

Ben leaned over, scratching the dog’s ears. “It’s about time to try those obedience classes again.”

“Not if you’re taking him,” Tory said with a grin.

“Leave him to Alex and me.”

Zack didn’t know Tory all that well, not only because she was relatively new to town, but because she was one of the most private people he’d ever met. Yet he couldn’t help liking her. She’d sure made Ben a happy man.

And she’d taken on Ben’s seven-year-old daughter, as well. That said a lot.

“So what’s going on with Tory and Montford U?” Zack asked a few minutes later when they’d all three grown quiet.

Tory had spent the previous semester posing as her sister, teaching classes at the university when she didn’t even have a college degree herself. She’d been driven to this desperate act by her abusive ex-husband, who’d murdered her sister, thinking he’d killed Tory. She was safe only as long as he believed her dead. He couldn’t tolerate the thought of her having a life without him. Eventually he’d committed suicide, and all the deception had come to an end.

“They aren’t pressing charges,” Tory said, no trace of a smile left on her face.

“Thank God.” Zack had been keeping his fingers crossed for his friends since he’d first heard the tragic story.

“That’s not all,” Ben added, with a glance at his wife. “They’ve given Tory a full scholarship to get her degree.”

“Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” Tory looked up at Ben, smiling, though her eyes were shadowed. “It’s still kind of hard to take in.”

“Won’t some of the students who sat in your class last semester wonder why you’re sitting in class with them now?”

Ben nodded. “The university is going to come out with the whole story—or an abridged version of it—the first week of class. Tory and I have already proofed the copy. They did a really nice job. It’ll be published in the university newspaper, so everyone’ll have a chance to read the story. That way they won’t ask too many questions—we hope.”

Zack nodded, fully aware that there was much of Tory’s background he didn’t know, might never know, but certain that she deserved these breaks, and more.

He glanced down the hall toward the master bedroom, making sure that Ben’s daughter wasn’t on her way in.

“Any word on Alex?” he asked. Ben was in the process of trying to adopt Alex. Though he’d raised her from the day she was born, believed her to be his, had his name on her birth certificate, he’d found out the previous year that he wasn’t Alex’s father at all.

He’d lost her for a time to her real father, an ex-con who’d taken his belt to the little girl. Ben had gotten her back right before Christmas.

Ben shook his head.

“These things take time,” Tory said, her hand reaching for her husband. “We’ve been in almost constant contact with the social worker and a nurse from Alex’s old school. Everything looks really promising.”

“She’s a very lucky—”

Zack’s words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who could that be?” Tory asked, frowning up at Ben.

Zack turned to see as his younger friend opened the door. He didn’t recognize the older, well-dressed couple standing there.

“Yes?” Ben asked politely.

“Are you Ben Sanders?” the man asked. His face was lined but looked friendly. The woman’s lips seemed to be trembling.

“Yes,” Ben answered immediately. “What can I do for you?”

Zack wondered if these people had something to do with Alex, maybe grandparents from her mother’s side. They’d better not be there to take the child away from Ben and Tory.

“We’re James and Carol Montford,” the older gentleman said, his voice hoarse. The aunt and uncle Ben had never met.

“He looks so much like the pictures of Grace,” Carol said to her husband, her eyes tearing up as she stared at Ben. “And like our Sam.”

That would be Samuel Montford IV, Cassie’s bastard of an ex-husband and the town founder’s namesake. Zack could only imagine what Ben must be feeling, finally meeting these people who were his only living family. Family meant everything to Ben, and until a few months before, he’d thought himself alone in the world.

Zack stood up.

“Won’t you come in?” Tory asked graciously, standing up, too.

On hearing her voice, Ben turned, glanced back at Tory. His eyes were blazing with emotion.

“Yes, please come in,” he finally said, pulling the door wider as he stepped aside. “It’s…I—”

“We won’t stay long,” Carol said gently. “We just couldn’t wait any longer to meet you.”

“We’ve been away,” Ben explained, showing them to the couch he and Tory had been sharing a short time before. “After the holidays Tory, Alex and I went back to California to get the rest of Alex’s belongings.”

The Montfords glanced curiously at Tory. “This is our new niece we’ve heard so much about?” Carol asked.

“Yes.” Ben drew Tory forward, though he released her almost immediately. “This is my wife, Tory.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Tory said, her tone reflecting the manners she’d learned as the wife of one of the richest men on the East Coast. Zack half expected to see her curtsy.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, dear. Better than nice. The Parsons have told me about you, and I’m thrilled to welcome you into the family. I only wish we could’ve been here for your wedding.” Zack was impressed by how deftly the older woman put Tory at ease. His friend’s wife had lived a hard life and rarely relaxed.

“We more or less eloped,” Ben threw in.

“We should give them a proper reception, Carol. The old house could use some livening up.”

“What a great idea!” Carol exclaimed. “We’ll let you kids get settled back into school and then plan something.” She looked beyond the adults to the empty room behind them. “Is little Alex here?” she asked wistfully. “It’s been so long since we had a child in the family.”

“She’s in the bedroom playing a video game she got for Christmas,” Tory answered. “I’ll go get her.”

As Tory left the room, Zack took the opportunity to excuse himself. Ben had been without family virtually his entire life. He deserved these moments alone with the couple who seemed completely ready to become the parents he’d never had.

There were times when life actually turned out right.

SHE COULDN’T GO. Someone would have to call him and tell him she wasn’t going.

Randi paced from her closet to the full-length mirror in her bathroom, looking at herself in her standard gym shorts and T-shirt, her white socks and tennis shoes. She wasn’t date material. She was too strong, too aggressive.

She didn’t know how to be sweet and gushy and girlish.

She couldn’t go.

She’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning. She couldn’t relax, couldn’t get Zack Foster off her mind. He’d caused sensations in her that she didn’t recognize. Had made her think about things she didn’t usually bother with. Sex, for instance.

She’d never obsessed about a man in her life.

And when she had drifted off, she’d had a horrible dream about sitting in a restaurant, being herself, enjoying herself, and glancing up to see a look of revulsion on Zack Foster’s face. Which alternated with indifference.

She couldn’t go.

Her hair was okay. She had to keep it short so it didn’t get in the way, but there was style to it. Bounce and casual curl. And the streaks of light blond mixed in with the darker blond were all natural. Her eyes were probably her best feature. Chocolate-brown—they were her older brother Will’s eyes. She was proud to have them.

With one last look at herself, Randi turned her back on her reflection and grabbed the phone from the nightstand in her bedroom.

“Becca?” she said as soon as her sister-in-law picked up the phone.

“Randi, I just called you, but you didn’t answer.”

“I’m not at school.”

“Where are you?” Will’s wife asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Randi said automatically. Then she remembered the day, almost a year before, when Becca had shown up on her doorstep, desperate, unsure, frightened. Of everyone she knew in Shelter Valley, she’d come to Randi.

“Well… I’m home, not sick or anything, but I’m not exactly fine,” she clarified.

“What’s up?”

“First, you have to promise me that you won’t say anything to Will. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“You know you can trust me.”

She did know that. Which was one reason she was on the phone at all. Becca was the epitome of discretion. It was Becca’s mother, Rose, who was the town gossip.

Of course, Rose was harmless, since much of her gossip bore only a minute resemblance to the truth, and everyone knew that.

“I’ve got a date tonight.”

“You do?” Becca couldn’t quite keep the excitement out of her voice, but Randi gave her full marks for effort.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, you have my permission to go. Just be home by midnight.”

“It’s with Zack Foster. He’s the new partner Cassie took on at the clinic last spring.”

“Oh?”

Randi almost smiled at the eagerness Becca was trying hard to conceal. Except that she felt so miserable smiling wasn’t currently an option.

“I can’t go,” she muttered.

“Why not?” There was curiosity and concern in Becca’s tone, though no condemnation.

Randi relaxed enough to sit down on the side of her bed.

“I don’t know, Bec,” she admitted. “I’ve only met the man once and he…he scares me.”

“Zack? I’ve seen him a couple of times and he’s big, I’ll grant you. But a teddy bear. Besides, since when have you ever let a man frighten you? I can remember when you were barely five years old and challenging your teenage brothers, fully believing you could take them on.”

“I could.” She did smile this time.

“Yeah, because you had them wrapped around your sweet little finger.”

“I could still take them on,” Randi asserted. She had learned a long time ago that the mind was a far more effective weapon than physical strength. When she’d been on the professional golf tour, before the accident that had squelched that particular dream, it hadn’t been the strength of her swing that had made her a winner. It had been the mental control and finesse that went along with her swing.

“It’s not that Zack scares me, exactly,” she said now to Becca, staring down at the logo on her shoe.

“When I was sitting in his office yesterday, it was almost like I’d been hypnotized. I was practically ready to agree to whatever he said. It was the oddest sensation.”

“You like him.”

“I like you, too, but I don’t lose my ability to think when I’m with you.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“THAT’S DIFFERENT. I’m a woman.”

“Yeah?” Randi replied. “No kidding.”

Becca ignored her sarcasm. “Did your stomach flutter, too?” she asked knowingly.

“Yeah,” Randi answered a little more slowly. The logo on her shoe was dirty. Dirty shoes always bothered her. “But that might’ve been because I skipped breakfast.” She carried the phone with her as she went into the bathroom to take a wet washcloth to her shoe.

“And you couldn’t stop looking at him?”

“Maybe.” The smudge wouldn’t come off. Damn.

“You’ve got the hots for him.”

That was precisely what scared Randi. She didn’t know how to have the hots. And she was a little old to be finding out.

“I’ve been attracted to a man before.” She told Becca the same thing she’d told herself at least a hundred times since she’d awoken that morning.

“You’re speaking of Sean?”

“Yes, mainly.”

“Sweetie, you didn’t give a damn if you were with Sean or not. You went out with him for so long because it was convenient.”

“I wouldn’t sleep with a man without feeling something for him,” Randi defended herself, walking to her closet for another pair of athletic shoes.

“I’m not saying you weren’t fond of him, but there was no spark between the two of you. Will and I saw that right off the bat.”

Which might explain why sex with Sean had been so terrible she’d only tried it with him twice. Once he’d made the initial move to her bedroom, she’d had to initiate everything else. And had found the experience more embarrassing than arousing.

Grabbing one of the nine other pairs of athletic shoes lined up in front of her, she slipped out of the ones she had on and put them aside for bleaching.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” Randi whispered. She didn’t usually allow herself to think that way, but sometimes, in the dark of the night, she was unable to keep her fears at bay.

“No!” Becca’s answer was emphatic. “You’ve just led an unusual life. You were an athlete from the day you were born. What choice did you have with four older brothers? You had to join in or be left in the dust. And you were good at everything you tried. You started training before you got to high school, and when most girls were experimenting with their sexuality, with boys, you were traveling on the junior professional golf circuit. You were hardly home enough to be able to graduate from high school, let alone do any dating.”

All of what her sister-in-law was saying Randi had already told herself. But it sounded so much more reasonable coming from Becca.

“And by the time I’d reached my twentieth birthday, I was on the LPGA tour and most men were too intimidated by me to see me as a woman. I usually knew more about sports than they did, and if a man happened to know as much, it was because he was an athlete himself, and then the fact that I might be able to beat him at his own game became a problem.”

“Tanner Snow?” Becca named the golfer Randi had brought home for Christmas one year.

Randi tied the laces on the shoe she’d just put on. “Yeah.”

“And it hasn’t gotten any easier, has it, since you won the position at Montford?”

“Probably not.” Randi hadn’t really noticed. Had she? She liked her life. Had more friends than she knew what to do with, enjoyed the time she spent with them.

Not everyone had a strong sex drive—which was surely why she hadn’t had a better experience with Sean.

Randi expended her physical energy on the basketball and tennis courts. And occasionally on the golf course, when she could bring herself to play a round with a rotator cuff that would never be what it was, thanks to the car accident nine years ago.

“Will and I have always said that when you got hit, you’d get hit hard,” Becca said.

“Got hit?” She studied the logos on her shoes. They were clearly legible.

“Fell for a man.”

“I’ve just met him, Becca! I haven’t fallen anywhere.”

“Have it your way.” Randi couldn’t tell if her brother’s wife was humoring her or not.

“So will you call him and tell him I can’t go? Say I have the flu or something?” She lay back on the end of her bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Why can’t you call him?”

“Because I might do something stupid, like let him talk me into going.”

“And that would be so horrible?”

“I think so.”

“Why?”

Randi swallowed. “Because it matters.” The admission was hard. “I don’t know why. I can’t understand it. But it matters.”

“So how will not going to dinner with him help that?”

“I won’t have to sit there and know things aren’t going to work out.” Randi sat up and bounced her feet on the floor.

“How do you know it won’t?”

“It never does.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Yesterday was certainly a case in point. “He’s a total pet freak.”

“He’s a vet.”

“I hate pets.”

“You’ve never had one.”

“I’m trying to sabotage the pet-therapy club assignment.”

“How are you going to do that?” Becca asked, chuckling.

“I don’t know.” Randi planted her feet solidly on the floor. “Plan A was yesterday and something went drastically wrong. I haven’t figured out Plan B yet, but rest assured, I will.”

“Go to dinner and maybe it’ll come to you.”

She’d never thought of that. Dinner would be an excellent opportunity to talk Zack Foster out of using college students for his little service project this semester. She had to get this settled before the students were back in session the following week; this might be her last opportunity.

And when Zack saw the benefits to his schedule, he’d be thanking her for it.

“DO YOU REALIZE what time it is?”

Zack looked at his watch. Holy hell, somehow it had jumped from eight-thirty to almost midnight without his even noticing. “I’m sorry,” he said, signaling for their bill. “You probably have to work in the morning, don’t you?”

Randi shrugged. Her shoulders, snug in the tight spandex jumpsuit she was wearing, attracted his attention. Everything about Randi’s body was tight.

It made Zack tight, too.

“Classes don’t start until next week, so while I have to go in, it doesn’t have to be too early.”

He had a surgery scheduled at seven-thirty the next morning.

“This place was great,” Randi said, pushing through the front door of the five-star Scottsdale hotel he’d chosen—before she remembered that he would probably have opened it for her. “You were right—not only was the duck à l’orange superb, but that guitar player was fabulous.”

He hadn’t heard much of the music. He’d been too focused on hearing about Randi’s job as athletic director at a class-one university. He’d learned the inside scoop on recruiting and eligibility rules, about Title Nine’s effect on the world of sports and found out which sports brought in money at the gate. He’d guessed right on basketball, but missed volleyball by a long shot. He’d told Randi about his job, too, when she’d asked. For someone who had no fondness for pets, she certainly had a lot of questions.

And a load of sassy comebacks, too. Zack couldn’t remember when he’d laughed so hard. Or just plain enjoyed himself so much.

What they hadn’t talked about was the pet-therapy club.

“So did you go immediately to Montford after you graduated from high school?” he asked Randi as he reluctantly turned his Explorer back toward Shelter Valley. Despite the lateness of the hour, he wasn’t ready for the evening to end.

Randi shook her head. Her blond hair reminded him of Meg Ryan’s in that movie French Kiss—all flyaway and sexy as hell.

“Actually, I wasn’t planning to attend college at all.”

He turned to look at her. “You’re kidding, right? Your brother’s president of the local university.”

“When I graduated from high school, I was already turning pro. There was hardly time to think about more education. Besides, I thought I had all the education I needed in order to get where I was going.”

Something prickled the back of his neck. “Turning pro?”

She grinned at him. “I forget you’re relatively new to town. Nobody talks about it much anymore, probably out of kindness to me, but you’re riding with Shelter Valley’s ex–child star of the Ladies Professional Golf Association.”

Tension shot through him. “Golf?”

“Yeah.” She nodded slowly, looking straight ahead at the dark road. “I was good at a lot of sports, but my first love was golf. I was competing—and winning—by the time I was fourteen. By twenty, I was officially on the LPGA tour and slated to break all the records.”

Golf. He swallowed. Adjusted his big frame in the seat. Did that mean she knew Barbara Sharp? Did she know Dawn, too?

“What happened?”

“I was in a car accident in Florida not quite ten years ago. On my way to play the final round in a tournament with a purse of one hundred grand. I was up by five strokes going into the day and some idiot ran a red light and broadsided me two blocks from the golf course.”

Golf. But almost ten years ago. Then she wouldn’t know Dawn. And maybe not Barbara, either.

“You were driving?”

“Nah, I was in a cab. The back passenger door took the brunt of the collision and I was on the other side of that door. My right rotator cuff was crushed. And so was any future I’d hoped to have swinging a golf club.”

“I’m sorry.” He responded to the pain in her voice. And to the sick feeling he had in his own gut. She’d been a golfer.

“You seem so cheerful,” he told her, “like nothing really bad ever came your way.”

Turning to face him as much as she could within the confines of her seat belt, Randi took a moment to answer him. Already he knew that meant she was going to be completely serious. Randi had a tendency to blurt out the first thing that came to her mind. And it was often tempered with a large dose of her dry wit.

“The way I choose to see things, I’m very lucky,” she finally said. There was no doubting that she meant every word. “I have a great family—the best. A job I love, a job many women spend their entire lives aiming for but never get. And I had a chance to live a dream, too. That’s more than most people have. Life on the circuit is tough. Lonely. Still, I would’ve loved every minute of that life… But I love Shelter Valley, too.”

“So you don’t miss golf? Or get frustrated because you can’t play?” Was the woman superhuman?

“Are you crazy? Of course I do,” she said. “Just last week I went into Phoenix to play some rounds with a couple of friends. They’re still on the circuit and wanted me to critique some problems they were having. By the last round, I was in tears. But I played until the bitter end.”

Zack glanced at her. “Your shoulder hurt?”

“Yeah, but not enough to make me cry.”

Not wanting to impinge on her privacy, Zack didn’t ask any more. But he waited, hoping she’d tell him, anyway.

And wondered if the people she’d been playing with knew Barbara Sharp.

“I just got so tired of my head telling my body what to do—and my body not doing what it was told. My game was mediocre at best.”

“Why play, then?” he asked, but he knew the answer. Probably the same reason he still played basketball even after he’d been cut from the college team his senior year. Some was better than none.

“Because I love the game. I love being on the course, smelling the fresh-cut grass, the feel of the club in my hands, the slight sting as the club makes contact with the ball. I love the sound of the ball falling into the cup. I’m still pretty damn good at putting.”

“You could always take up miniature golf,” he offered, throwing her a grin.

“Yeah, but those fake greens…”

They drove in silence for a couple of minutes. Disappointment and warnings rang in his head. He’d had a great time tonight. Far better than he’d expected. But that was all. He couldn’t read more into it than a very pleasant evening.

Zack didn’t do long-term relationships. Not anymore. Short and sweet had become his motto. Long enough for pleasure on both sides. Not long enough for either party to become disenchanted.

And he sure as hell wasn’t ready to take up with a golfer. Even if she’d been out of the game for ten years. A man could only stand so much.

“But she’s a woman.” His own words rang silently in his ears as he recalled the pathetic happiness he’d seen in his wife’s eyes.

He wanted to ask Randi if she knew Barbara, a woman he’d never met. But the words stuck in his throat. Because he didn’t want to know or because he did? He wasn’t sure. He just knew he didn’t want to think about that part of his life. It was over.

THE FIRST WEEK of school came and went before Randi had a chance to stop long enough to acknowledge it. And she didn’t even have any classes to teach. A couple of regional conference meetings, budget requests from disgruntled coaches and the hiring of new game-management personnel were only a few of the tasks that occupied her time.

In spite of its small size, Montford, with its dormitories and full scholarships, was a Division One school. In many respects, this was good. From Randi’s perspective, it meant a lot of extra pressure. Pressure to find the best of the best if she was going to direct winning teams and keep her job.

Having grown up in the world of competitive sports, Randi was not afraid of pressure. She actually thrived on it. But it helped when she could focus one hundred percent of her energies on the task at hand.

She wasn’t focusing that week. Hadn’t focused since Zack Foster had dropped her off at her door without so much as a peck on the cheek a week and a half earlier. Things had been going so well, too. Right up until the part where she’d mentioned her previous pro status.

And why should that surprise me?

Disgruntled, knowing she had to be energetic when she showed her face at the women’s tennis match later that afternoon, Randi gave in to her need for comfort and picked up the phone.

“Hey, it’s Randi,” she said as soon as she recognized the voice on the other end of the phone.

“What’s up, woman? Got another revelation for me? Another good tip to help me improve my swing?”

“No.” Randi grinned. Barbara was slated for the number-one spot on the LPGA tour this year, in spite of all the younger athletes coming up behind her.

“I was planning to send you flowers or something, to thank you again for all your help a couple of weeks ago, but I know you hate to see them die.”

“Putting me up at the Phoenician and feeding me for three days wasn’t payment enough?” Randi asked. Barbara was one of the two friends she’d spent time with the week before school started. On the golf course, using her sharp eye and years’ worth of studying every intricate detail of the game, she’d critiqued their performances. And wept with frustration as she watched others do what she could no longer do herself.

Barbara had been the only one who’d seen her tears on the back nine that last day.

“The hotel was comped, and you know it,” Barbara said. “And seriously, Ran, I really appreciate your help. You hit that slight weight switch perfectly. I haven’t been able to miss since we straightened that out.”

Randi fidgeted with a pencil on her desk. “Glad I could help.”

“So what can I do to return the favor?”

“Remind me why we care about the things we care about.”

“This sounds serious.”

“Have you ever regretted what you gave up to be who you are?” Randi asked before she realized how stupid the question sounded. Barbara was at the top of her career, making more money than Randi had seen in years. Kind of hard to regret.

“Yeah.”

Randi dropped the pencil, leaning back in her chair with one foot propped on the desk in front of her. “Yeah?”

“There are downsides to everything.”

Of course there were. For every mountain climbed, a valley lay on the other side. Randi knew that, counseled her young athletes with such truths at every banquet she attended, every speech she gave. Without the bad, how could one measure the good? With no losers, there could be no winners.

But…

“So what do you regret most?”

“Same thing you do, I imagine,” Barbara said, her no-nonsense voice tinged with the warmth she reserved only for those she considered real friends. “The circuit, the training, the life of a professional athlete, particularly a female professional athlete, exacts its price. You have to have complete focus, keep your mind and heart on one goal—to be the best. And suddenly you aren’t a kid anymore with your whole life stretching before you.”

Her fingers straightening the lace on her tennis shoe, Randi froze.

“You wake up one morning and find yourself all alone in a world of couples,” Barbara continued.

Or you lie awake one night, alone in a bed big enough for two, on a street lined with houses filled with families. In a town of moms and dads and people pulling together.

“And you discover,” Randi said slowly, “that not only are you alone, you don’t have the slightest idea how to change that.”

“Wonder why nobody told us when we were growing up that while we were building one kind of skill, we were missing out on another. All the emotional stuff—the dates, the fumbling first kisses, the hurt feelings. Those were experiences we needed and didn’t get.”

“They didn’t tell us any of that stuff because winning is everything,” Randi told her friend, the knowledge as natural to her as the air she breathed. Competition was a fact of life, and the point of competing was to win.

“We just didn’t know, until it was too late, that when we chose to win physically, we were losing something else just as vital,” Barbara murmured.

“But it’s not necessarily fatal,” Randi said now, barely hiding the question in her statement.

Barbara had managed, somehow, to win on all counts. She and Randi never spoke of the relationship Barbara had embarked on almost a year before. Randi had never even met the woman, but she knew the relationship was stronger than ever.

She’d seen the change in her friend. The easy light in her eyes, the peace that had replaced the nervous tension in Barbara’s every movement.

“It’s damn hard,” Barbara said slowly, “to coax out that emotionally retarded child inside of you. To risk feeling like a fool as you learn things about yourself, about life, that most people learn when they’re teenagers.”

Randi wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this. And yet, wasn’t it exactly why she’d called her friend? Because she knew Barbara had grown up the same way she had—with one hundred percent dedication to her goals.

And they were women in a man’s world, to boot. Fighting not only to develop their talents to almost impossible levels, they’d also had to compete with men—for sponsorships, for trainers, for facility time. Even for comps. All the factors essential to a young athlete’s success came so much more readily to men than to women.

She and Barbara and others like them had had to be strong on every front. Which left no room whatsoever for the softer things in life. Like giving one’s heart.

Yet Barbara had finally found a way. She’d come to terms with her sexuality. She’d risked everything for the chance to not be alone.

“And what if you’re more comfortable with the status quo?” Randi asked.

“Of course you’re more comfortable,” Barbara said. “Who wouldn’t be? It’s what you’re familiar with, what you know.”

“And you think that’s wrong?”

“Not necessarily. Not if comfortable is enough for you.”

“And if it isn’t?” Randi wasn’t sure one way or the other; she just wanted to be aware of all the possibilities.

“Then you have a long—uncomfortable—road ahead of you.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, almost two weeks after her not-quite-successful date with Zack Foster, the Montford Pet Therapy Club held its first meeting. Several creative excuses for missing the get-together entertained Randi on and off throughout that day.

Maybe her Jeep was in the shop and if she didn’t pick it up by four o’clock, she couldn’t have it until the next day and then she’d have no way to get to work in the morning. Or to escape her home that evening in case of some dire emergency.

She worked on that one for quite a while, coming up with different angles, but eventually dismissed it. Her Jeep was brand-new, for one thing; she had no intention of depriving herself of its use, for another—even if that meant she had to see Zack Foster again.

She’d have claimed a sick dog or cat or fish she had to rush home to, except the reason that wouldn’t work was obvious. If she was going to make a fool of herself with an asinine excuse, it had to at least be one that would fly.

The sick-grandmother thing was overused. Emergency baby-sitting might be good if there weren’t about a thousand substitutes for her services in this town full of college students.

She had cramps.

That might be true, but absolutely none of Zack Foster’s business.

She was allergic to animals? But then why hadn’t she mentioned that from the outset? And wasn’t that something her brother would’ve known before assigning her this ridiculous advisorship to begin with?

Still trying to come up with something at the last second, Randi locked her office early and headed toward the room in the student center that was to be the location of the dreaded meeting.

Why in hell couldn’t there have been a tennis match that afternoon? Or a track meet? Or anything else that could even remotely pass as something that required her professional attention? Where were all the millions of things that took up every spare second of Randi’s time on any other day?

Ten students were waiting in the room when Randi arrived. Ten students oohing and ahhing and making friends with the two canines drooling on the gray-tiled floor. Ten students, two drooling canines—and Zack Foster.

He looked as good as Randi remembered. Damn him. And damn her for noticing that, instead of inventing a plausible excuse.

“You’re late,” the man said when he noticed her hovering at the back of the room.

Only ten minutes. That wasn’t bad.

“I know.”

His eyes locked on her briefly and he looked as though he had more to say.

Randi just stood there.

“Meet Sammie and Bear,” he finally said, indicating the furry masses holding court at his feet.

Glancing at them and then away, Randi turned to the students, instead.

“Okay, gang, let’s all have a seat and figure out who we’ve got and what we’re doing.”

One of the first things she’d learned in life was to pretend she was always in control—even when she’d never felt less in control. Especially then.

SHE HADN’T GOTTEN any worse-looking in the two weeks since he’d seen her, Zack thought as he leashed Sammie and Bear and stood waiting while Randi got the meeting under way. If anything, she looked even more desirable than he’d remembered. With her cropped blond hair, that narrow waist and those firm legs that went on forever outside those indecently tight shorts she’d worn two out of the three times he’d seen her—didn’t the university pay her enough to afford longer pants?—she’d cause any red-blooded guy to take a second look.

There was nothing wrong with looking.

“So, if you’re all comfortable with the time commitment, I need to have you sign here, leave me a phone number and, if you’re living on campus, your dorm. If you’re off campus, put your address here…”

She turned the clipboard she was holding so they could all see the various lines on the form and then passed it, and a pen, to the young man closest to her.

Damn, but she made running shoes seem sexy. Something about the way she moved in them…

Leaning down to Sammie and Bear, one hand on each of them as he scratched behind their ears, Zack shook his head to free himself from distracting thoughts. He was there to do a job. A worthy and necessary job to which he was honestly dedicated.

Finding running shoes sexy was kind of sick.

Sammie licked his cheek just as Zack saw Randi look in his direction, her upper lip curled slightly in distaste. She resumed talking to the students.

“In just a moment I’ll be turning the meeting over to Dr. Zack Foster. He’s a veterinarian here in Shelter Valley. He and his partner are establishing pet-therapy programs similar to this one in universities all over the country, apparently with a great deal of success. I’m sure he’ll tell you some of the stories….”

At least she’d done her homework. Zack was impressed.

He only had to see her on five occasions throughout the semester. And he’d have animals with him every time. He’d be safe.

“Ms. Parsons is right,” Zack began when the floor was his. “My partner, Dr. Cassie Tate, and I have been visiting universities throughout the country. But I’m in charge of this portion of our pet-therapy program.”

Although he refused to actually look at her, he followed Randi’s progress as she moved to the back of the room and perched on one of the desks. Sammie sat beside him, watching the students as though she was in the know. Bear lay down under a desk, his head on his paws.

“Dr. Tate is involved in a very serious aspect of our work. In partnership with psychiatrists across the country, she works on problems with a much bigger scope than we’ll encounter. She and her specially trained animals deal with patients who have emotional disorders and mental illnesses—people who are clinically depressed, bipolar, that type of thing.”

In spite of himself, he glanced up at his partner in this particular venture, wondering if she’d revised her assumption yet that they were all wasting their time in believing animals could help in the treatment of real human distress.

She was studying her shoes, tapping them silently on the chair in front of her. At least she wasn’t asleep. There was a chance she was listening.

Not that her opinion of his work mattered at all.

He and Cassie had met opposition on more than one occasion, but opposition didn’t intimidate him in the slightest. The success of their work spoke for itself.

He returned his attention to the eager faces before him. “We’ll be working strictly with the elderly,” he told them, briefly describing the different homes they’d visit.

Sammie stood, realized she was still on her leash and sat down again.

“Are we going to be working with these dogs?” One of the girls, a short slightly heavy girl with long dark hair, asked.

Zack nodded. “These and others. Sammie’s been a therapist for almost three years now.”

The dog, hearing her name, turned in a circle and barked, her leash getting tangled around one front paw.

Laughter erupted, and Sammie, as if sensing the interest directed at her, barked again.

Randi was still studying her shoes.

“What does he do?” A long-haired young man asked curiously, pointing at Bear.

“Gives people someone to identify with,” Zack said with a smile, although he was absolutely serious.

“He shows them how to grow old without fear.”

A couple of girls in the front row nodded.

“You’ll be working in pairs,” Zack continued. “We’ll have a total of five dogs, one for each pair of you. The dogs have all been through obedience classes and rigorous health screenings. They’re all veteran therapists.”

“Do we get training, too?” A young man with a blond crewcut asked.

Zack shook his head, looking up as his peripheral vision caught movement in the back of the classroom. Randi was doing some kind of stretching thing, her right arm bent and pulled behind her head, her left hand grasping the elbow and pushing it farther.

Her breasts, as firm as everything else about her, were thrown into prominence, garnering a reaction from Zack that he didn’t appreciate. Dammit, why couldn’t the woman just pay attention?

“Uh, no,” he said slowly, forcing himself to focus on the job at hand. “You’re basically escorts. You take the animals into the predetermined rooms and then stand back while the animals do their jobs. There may be times when you need to participate, perhaps talk to the patients, but that would entail no more than casual conversation.”

Randi was looking down again, studying her kneecaps, as far as Zack could tell. He felt a twinge of envy that she could study those legs any time she pleased.

“One visit last semester, we had a woman who refused to take her pills. She wouldn’t let any one of the staff near her. After half an hour with Sammie, she’d relaxed enough to let Sammie’s escort hand her the pills and a cup of water and she took every one of them without complaint.”

“Cool.” The long-haired fellow nodded his head.

“These dogs do a lot of cool things,” Zack said.

“Scientific studies have proved that petting a dog can lower blood pressure. Dogs have been successfully used to alleviate depression. Pets have even been shown to lengthen the life span of their owners.

“For our patients, they often provide comfort and companionship in days that are otherwise relentlessly the same.”

At the back of the room, there was movement again. Randi was now sitting on her hands, and her attention seemed to be moving up. Her gaze was set on the back of the heavy girl’s head.

“We’ve also had success with patients who are struggling with memory deficiencies. In several cases, an individual hasn’t remembered a dog’s escort or his own caregivers’ names, but he’s always remembered the dog’s name.”

After another fifteen minutes, Zack wrapped up his introduction and turned the meeting back to Randi to schedule the dates of their visits. These kids all seemed eager, receptive. But then, they usually were at Montford.

He’d call the nursing homes in the morning to let them know when they’d be coming. And he’d check on the other dogs’ availability, as well. Sammie and Bear were a given, but the other dogs he used had owners whose schedules he had to accommodate.

They were going to have a great semester.

“If we can’t fit in all five visits…”

Amend that. They were going to have a great semester—maybe.

Zack stepped forward, Sammie stood, turned two circles and barked.

“We’re completely open on the dates,” he said, “subject to your availability and that of the dogs. Weekdays, weekends, evenings. That’s the thing about old folks in nursing homes. They’re pretty much always there.”

Looking annoyed, Randi nodded. “So, I know you all have busy schedules. Some of you are graduating in May. Most of you will have projects and other activities that take up your time.” She paused to let that sink in while Zack bored a hole in her head with his eyes.

He’d love to get his hands on that sleek neck of hers.

Actually, he’d like to get his hands anywhere on that body of hers….

“So, how many of you think you’ll actually be able to handle five visits?”

Zack was happy to note a unanimous show of hands.

“Or we could try for three or four,” Randi said.

Could the woman not count?

“No, five’s good,” someone said.

“Five’s not a problem.”

“I’d like to do more than five. Could we talk about that?” another student asked.

“Five it is, then,” Randi interrupted quickly. She stared down at her leather-bound day planner. Mesmerized by the pulse beating in her neck, Zack listened while the dates were agreed upon. He didn’t smile. Not once.

At least not so anyone could see.

As each date was confirmed, she fidgeted a little more. A finger tapping the page of her planner. One foot tapping silently on the floor. Finally she began chewing on her lower lip in a way that Zack found rather disconcerting.

He no longer felt like smiling.

“YOU BUSY?”

Randi looked up from the scouting report she was reading in her office to see Zack Foster standing there.

The very person she’d been trying to avoid thinking about. She certainly didn’t want to see him. Especially in her private sanctum. The room was too small for both of them.

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