Part 17 (1/2)

Can you help it?”

One look at the shaking animal, and her professional instincts kicked in.

”Oh, poor baby.” Claire soothed the animal as it hesitantly wagged its tail. She retrieved several treats for toy-sized canines and offered them to the waif-thin creature. The dog accepted the food after some cautionary sniffing.

Conscious of Adam watching, Claire smoothed her hands over the dog's tiny limbs and torso, then inspected its head, eyes, and mouth. There didn't seem to be any injuries, and the dog tolerated her examination without whimpers of pain.

Her jack-rabbiting pulse calmed as she went through the familiar routine. Claire started a chart on the dog, recording her observations. After warming her stethoscope on her palm, she checked its heart and lungs. No concerns there, either.

She glanced at Adam, who looked more like a worried pet-owner than a man who'd rescued a stray. ”There aren't any obvious problems besides malnutrition. But I'l keep an eye on him for a few days, while I search the missing dog reports.”

”Did starving make his fur fal out?” He stroked the matted tuft on the dog's head, his tanned hand as large as the animal's body. ”He's only got hair left on his head, ankles, and tail.”

Claire smiled. ”He's a Chinese crested hairless dog.”

Adam's jaw dropped, and his fingers stil ed on the animal's back. ”He's supposed to look like this?”

Despite their unhappy history, Adam's incredulity tickled a laugh out of Claire. She rubbed gently at the dirt streaking the dog's sides. ”Give the little crestie a break. Once I wash the mud off him, he won't look so bedraggled.”

”I'l take your word on that.” He met her eyes, and the air thickened again. ”Can I come tomorrow and visit, uh, the dog?”

No. She almost said it aloud, but she only had her personal reasons to object. So she nodded. Her a.s.sistant, Lucia, could take Adam to see the dog, while Claire did what? Hid in her office? Avoiding him for a decade hadn't kil ed her feelings.

Absently, she patted the dog, her hand brus.h.i.+ng Adam's fingers. Claire registered the warm, familiar feel of his skin before jerking her hand away. The last thing she needed was to remember this man's touch. So she picked up her clipboard and made a note to cal the crestie rescue group about missing pets.

”What do I owe you?” Adam asked.

There's a loaded question. Claire bit back a response about long overdue apologies and explained the shelter's policy instead. ”We don't charge people who save lost or abandoned animals. But if you'd like to make a donation, there's a jar on the receptionist's desk.”

Adam nodded. Then he smoothed his thumb under the dog's chin and spoke softly to it. ”See you tomorrow, bud.”

Claire watched the man who'd broken her heart walk down the hal , where he pushed some bil s into her donation jar before leaving. Her treacherous mind was bent on torturing her today, noting how fine he looked from the back as wel as the front. Why couldn't Adam have turned into an unattractive toad with an obnoxious personality? Instead he was a s.e.xy champion of strays.

After slipping another treat to the crestie, Claire strode to her reception desk and looked into the col ection jar. Three hundred-dol ar bil s lay among the pennies and nickels. She sighed. The man made it hard to hold a grudge.

CHAPTER THREE.

Adam drove on autopilot toward his Northeast D.C. home.

Despite the work waiting for him at the restaurant, he needed to think. Why had seeing Claire again rattled him so badly?

The cel phone in his pocket played ”Neutron Dance,”

and Adam sighed. He regretted the day he'd let emile program his phone with the '80s. .h.i.t. But his maitre d' had decided it was an appropriately named ring tone for the owner of Nuclear Fusion.

He slowed for a red light and answered his cel .

”How's the patient?” his bookkeeper asked.

He should've known Martha would be waiting to hear.

”Dr. Mendelsohn said he just needs some food and attention. She's going to check for reports of missing cresties.”

”That hairless stray was a Chinese crested?” Martha laughed. ”You know, they often win the Ugliest Dog Contest.”

Adam almost snapped that the poor animal wasn't ugly, just half-starved. Instead, he reined in his unexpected irritation. ”Wel , Claire wil get him fixed up and find his owners.”

”Claire, is it? You move fast, Nuke,” Martha teased him.

d.a.m.n. Just because he'd dated a few starlets in his years with the 49ers, he had a rep as a player on and off the footbal field. And now his friends figured he was always on the make. Before his nosy bookkeeper could pry any further, Adam changed the subject. ”Listen, I've got some errands to run, so I won't be in until six. Can you hold down the fort?”

Martha a.s.sured him she could, and he ended the cal .

The last thing he felt like doing was explaining how he knew Claire.

Besides, he didn't real y know this woman, this competent, compa.s.sionate veterinarian. The Claire he'd loved in col ege had been a shy bookworm, the exact opposite from the blond party-girls his fel ow jocks had dated. But Claire had been anything but quiet with him . . .

especial y when they'd made love.

Regret clenched his gut, and he gripped the steering wheel with whitened knuckles. He'd had his share of bed partners over the years, enough to know now how special Claire was and how good they'd been together. If only he'd realized it in col ege.

The streets became residential and affluent, as he drove in silence with his remorse. By the time he pul ed into his drive and punched in the code to open the gate, Adam was cursing the arrogant kid he'd been. How could he have pushed Claire away?

He parked the BMW in his garage and let himself into his McMansion-his parents' nickname for the stone Colonial he'd purchased several years ago. Thanks to a decorator, the main floor was furnished and comfortable, but the only livable room upstairs was his bedroom. The place had great security and was convenient to his restaurant, but it'd never felt like a home.

Adam took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, then strode to the smal bedroom at the end of the hal .

Inside was a jumble of boxes he hadn't unpacked since leaving San Francisco. He found the carton labeled ”UVA”

and placed it on the window seat by the room's large, mul ioned windows.

He stared at the box, then opened the dusty flap. Why was he doing this? It was hard enough seeing Claire today without this painful trip down Memory Lane. Stil , like a glutton for punishment, he shuffled through the carton until he found the picture frame. Picking it up, he peeled off the bubble wrap.

The photo had been taken at their col ege graduation.

Both Claire and he wore caps and gowns, and they were laughing at something he couldn't recal . But it was the way she looked at him with such love in her face that made his chest ache.

He brushed his finger across her image. This young Claire had longer hair than the sophisticated cut sported by Dr. Mendelsohn. In col ege, she'd tie it back in a ponytail when she had ridden in his old Mustang convertible. Would she be surprised to learn he stil had that car-now total y restored?

In the photo, Claire's shapeless graduation gown hid her lean limbs and delicate curves. Today, despite her boxy scrubs, the good doctor was even more attractive, with a woman's ful er body and confidence. How would she feel in his arms now?

d.a.m.n, he was a fool for even imagining such things.