Toss Up (The Toss Trilogy) Read online

  “Perhaps because since you stopped seeing April, you haven’t gone out with anyone except Sally and Tyler? That’s been over six months now.”

  Jim blinked and sat back with a blank look on his face. Diana could almost see the wheels turning.

  “Six months?” he muttered.

  He focused on Diana once again. “No matter. This bastard is male. But either way, surely you see the need to keep someone at the shelter with her? It isn’t safe for her to be alone.”

  He certainly was insistent, and maybe he was right. “All right. I can arrange a shift in the volunteers’ schedules. I won’t need to say anything other than Sally could use a bit more help. But what about the rest of the time?”

  Jim leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be staying with Sally and Tyler myself until this is settled,” he stated flatly.

  “Oh, you will?” Diana gave him a disbelieving stare. “And this is okay with Sally?”

  “We’re still negotiating.” His face was expressionless.

  “Meaning what, exactly?” She knew Sally didn’t negotiate.

  Jim returned her look calmly and gave an unequivocal answer. “Meaning she’s dead set against it, but I’ll be staying with her regardless.”

  Diana raised her eyebrows, but didn’t dispute his claim. Interesting. Very interesting.

  Maybe Jim was finally tired of waiting around. She hoped so. Diana knew Sally was quite capable of seeing only what she chose to see, and had, for years, ignored anything that smacked of a male-female dynamic. Five years after Trent’s death was past time for Sally to open up to men again, but she hadn’t. It was high time Donovan got off his laid-back butt and—

  “Excuse me, Jim.”

  Diana turned her head at the sound of the deep male voice behind her.

  A man leaned in through the open office door. “Did you want me to go ahead and get the Matheson pup prepped for surgery or shall I wait ‘til you’re done here?”

  “You can go ahead, but first come on in and meet Diana Carmichael.” Jim stepped out from behind his desk. “Diana, this is Daniel Smith, the new vet in the practice.” As Diana rose and turned toward the door, Jim continued. “Diana is the owner of Man’s Best Friend shelter and of Business Solutions, a consulting firm in town. Daniel is from Oceanside, California. I’m hoping to have time to show him your setup at the shelter this afternoon.”

  Diana took a good look at Daniel Smith. So this is where that rough-sounding voice came from. At five foot eleven, he wasn’t much taller than she was, but his appearance was aggressively male. At ten in the morning, his jaw was already shadowed—clearly a shave twice a day guy, if he cared. But he didn’t look like he’d care. His nearly black hair wasn’t long, but it wasn’t neat either, and his body language made it clear meeting her was a business obligation only—one that was keeping him from more important things. Diana extended her hand politely, but her voice was cool. “Pleased to meet you.”

  He nodded his head and shook her hand. “Same.” His deep-set green eyes flicked toward hers for a moment, then he turned and left the room.

  She turned toward Jim. “Friendly type, is he?

  Jim smiled ruefully. “He’s quiet. A bit of a loner—but he’s great with animals. Has first-class skills from what I’ve seen so far. Give him some time to get to know folks and he’ll loosen up—he’s young.”

  “And you think that’s an excuse? He must be at least twenty-five.” Her head cocked to one side. “Are you saying we’re old?”

  Jim grinned. “I’m saying I’m old. You and Sally are the perfect age and always will be. Now, I’ve got to move or the kid will have that pup spayed before I get there.” Jim hurried down the hallway, then turned, “And thanks for the volunteers, Diana.”

  “You’re welcome. Let me know if anything else happens.”

  He sketched her a salute and entered the treatment area.

  Diana stood in the hallway looking toward where the men had disappeared. She wondered if Jim realized how much the new vet looked like Trent Johnston.

  Probably not—at least not yet.

  Later that day, after a quick lunch in town and yet another visit to the Sanderson place to check on Hector’s prize brood mare, Jim ushered Daniel Smith through the front door of the shelter.

  “So, Diana decided to start this place herself. She doesn’t let much stand in her way.” Jim continued the running commentary he’d been giving Smith as they drove.

  Smith only nodded, looking beyond Jim to the tracings of frost on the glass entry door.

  “One of the first things she did was add this entryway to keep cold air from whipping straight into the shelter and freezing out her volunteers. Makes for a good coatroom, too.” Jim tipped his head toward the row of coat hooks running the length of what used to be the exterior siding of the building. Ahead and to the right, a glass pane in the closed pine door revealed a counter, tall filing cabinets, and a crowded bulletin board. Jim swung toward the door without removing his coat.

  Smith unfastened his worn black leather jacket, and followed.

  Jim was beginning to feel like an overly-chatty tour guide. The younger man had given him no more than monosyllabic responses since lunch. Doggedly, he continued feeding Smith information. “Sally Johnston manages the place and volunteers complete the staffing. Looks like everyone’s out back with the dogs, but we’ll wait here. I’m sure they heard us pull in.” Pulling open his practical tan ranch coat, Jim turned to face Smith and leaned back against the reception counter. He shut his mouth firmly. Maybe if he stopped talking, the kid would start.

  Or not. Smith silently glanced around the room, then suddenly his gaze riveted on the hallway behind Jim. “Hot damn,” Smith muttered, and his eyes narrowed slightly even as the corners of his mouth turned up.

  Jim recognized that look, and was pretty sure he knew what had caused it. Let it be a volunteer. But when he turned it was no volunteer that he saw. It was his six foot worth of gorgeous. Long, long legs encased in snug jeans, topped with a perfect torso covered by a slightly-too-small V-neck tee. Streaky blonde hair. Killer green eyes.

  He understood that Smith couldn’t help the effect Sally had on him. He felt that punched in the gut breathless feeling still, every time he saw her. But what had him groaning inside and cursing himself for a fool was Sally. She was standing stock still on the far side of the office, staring at Smith with her jaw dropped, and she sure as hell had never looked at him that way.

  The frozen tableau lasted only a moment. Then Sally tore her eyes from Smith’s face, and turned to him. “Hey, Doc.” There was a decided chill to the friendly words. “What brings you here?”

  Jim’s greatest desire was to grab Smith by the scruff of the neck and drag his sorry young ass out of there. Too late for that. Grudgingly, he spoke. “Sally, I’d like you to meet Daniel Smith,” he lied. “Daniel, Sally Johnston.”

  Smith stood a little taller and swaggered up to the counter, extending his hand, and a high-voltage smile to Sally. “It’s a pleasure,” he said, using a deeper, more gravelly voice than normal—and holding her hand longer than was polite.

  Sally—usually unflappable—seemed flustered. “Thanks,” she said, looking searchingly into Smith’s eyes.

  Watching her green eyes absorb the deep-set gleam in Smith’s was making Jim feel pretty green himself. Get the hell away from my woman. He pushed himself erect, ready to hurry this visit along. “Come on Smith. I’ll show you the treatment facilities here.” If Smith didn’t give Sally her hand back, now, he’d likely rip the kid’s arm off.

  Smith gracefully shrugged a muscular leather-covered shoulder. “Duty calls,” he said, unleashing another killer smile as he released Sally’s hand. She watched him follow Jim down the hall toward the kennel wing. The movement of hard toned muscle beneath smooth denim was fairly mesmerizing. Whew! Sally shook her head and waved a hand to fan herself.

  Jim’s new partner looked enough like Trent to knock her back five years with one hot gl
ance. Thank God his eyes were green instead of dark. She didn’t know if she could have dealt with any more of a resemblance.

  And then there was the way he looked at her. It had made her very aware of being the opposite sex, and that opposites attract. It had embarrassed her, a little. He was way too young for her—though that hadn’t seemed to bother him. Really nice body, though, nearly as hot as Trent had been, even though he’s not as tall. She noticed that she was still waving her hand like a fan at her breast and dropped it to her side. What was the matter with her anyhow? All of a sudden she was responding like a sex-starved female to every man in sight.

  All right—to every veterinarian in sight. But what was with that anyway? This was not who she was. This was not how she acted.

  It was all Jim’s fault, kissing her like that last night. And then jolting her libido awake again this morning. She began to drift into contemplation of the way her body had felt, and had to yank herself back to the anger Donovan so richly deserved. Thanks to him, she had all this… this stuff to deal with. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about with the idiot stalker and the deadline for her Economics paper. If Donovan thought she was going to take this lying down…

  Stop that!

  If he thought he was going to get by with kissing her into submission and arousing her…

  Dammit, stay on target!

  Jim Donovan was in big trouble.

  Let’s just leave it at that.

  Big, big trouble.

  chapter five

  After the quickest tour ever, Jim hustled Smith back into the truck and away. As quiet now as his companion had been on the way out, Jim drove in silence, his lips a flat, straight line across his face.

  The younger man shot him a glance. “What’s the story with Sally Johnston? I didn’t see a ring. She seeing anyone?”

  Now he starts with the questions. Finally seen something that interests you, Smith? Jim clenched his jaw, and he spoke through his teeth. “She’s widowed. Has a ten-year-old son, Tyler.” You’re too young for her and stay away—she’s mine!

  “Tyler, huh? Ten years old. Does he like hockey?”

  What the hell do you care? “Yeah, why?”

  “I was thinking of getting season tickets for the Flyers. Might be nice to have someone to go with.”

  Season tickets? The kid must have money to burn—or a big balance on his credit card. Jim nearly ground his teeth to avoid jumping down Smith’s throat with his opinion of someone who would try to get to a woman through her child. And dammit, the Ranger troop was a whole different thing!

  This did not look good. For the first time in his life, Jim actually felt old. Hell. He’d never been a man to worry about competition—and I’m not now either.

  Still, that slack-jawed look he’d seen on Sally’s face had him rattled.

  Jim saw the long, considering look the kid gave him before slouching comfortably into the truck seat and watching the countryside roll by, the various shades of brown reminiscent of an Andrew Wyeth painting. He drove on, flicking glance after glance at Smith. He could almost see the adding machine in Smith’s head. The kid had to realize Sally was at least five years older than him. Jim watched for a change in expression, however slight, some sign that Smith realized his first hot intention toward Sal was completely inappropriate. He almost groaned in frustration—couldn’t the kid do the math? Jim was about ready to open his mouth and point out the obvious, when Smith finally stirred in his seat.

  “Well, she’s seriously hot. Can’t say I care how old she is. Those legs were meant to be wrapped around a man’s waist.” Smith was nodding his fool head and smiling lasciviously.

  Jim’s vision was obscured by a red haze, and it wasn’t coming from the Hot Cherry hood of his truck. His knuckles turned white on the wheel, and he bit his tongue to keep it under control.

  Murdering Smith sounded like a good plan, but there might be some problems to work through. Especially if Sally found out. Hell, if he even so much as warned the kid off, and she heard of it—which she would, because Smith wasn’t stupid—she’d spend time with the new vet just to assert her independence.

  He was the adult in this situation, Jim reminded himself. Smith was little more than a kid.

  I’m the one in control.

  The tension that coiled in his gut and curdled his blood laughed at that idea. She’d looked at Smith like he was the answer to a prayer.

  Dammit. He could get rid of the body and Sally would never know the difference.

  Jim shifted the four by four into low and swung off onto a deeply rutted and washboard-rippled ‘short cut’, running the truck over the road so fast that the jouncing and tumbling caused Smith to give him a startled look and put a hand to the dash for stability. Jim snorted in disgust.

  Damn kid should be grateful I’m taking it out on the truck instead of taking it out of his hide. Pushing the pedal closer to the floor, he concentrated on forcing the wildly wrenching vehicle to bend to his will. It was going to be one hell of a long afternoon.

  Promptly at five that day, as the volunteers were leaving the shelter, Sally saw Jim’s red RAM four by four roll up to the door of Man’s Best Friend. So much for hoping he would realize his plan to stay with them was a bad idea. She shook her head and looked at Tyler. “Pack your things up, honey”

  As Tyler began shoving books and papers into his backpack, Sally turned back to the window and watched Jim get out of his truck. She didn’t need his help, didn’t want his help, and hadn’t had a chance yet to think through the feelings he’d aroused in her last night—not to mention her response to meeting Daniel Smith today. Think through was the operative term. She done plenty of thinking—she hadn’t been able to get the power-kiss Jim had laid on her last night out of her mind all day. But thinking through it? Making sense of it? Not even close. Now here he was again, and she would go with the flow, annoying as that was, because of Tyler.

  Jim was a good friend to her, but more, he was the closest thing to a father-figure Tyler had. Sally appreciated the way Jim included Tyler in conversations and played video games with him during their occasional trips to the pizza parlor or the movies. As for Tyler, he loved Dr. Donovan and the feeling seemed to be mutual.

  Far from using Tyler to get to her, Jim would sometimes drop by the house or the shelter for no other reason than to toss whatever ball was in season back and forth with Tyler, while she continued with her own work, undisturbed. The two of them made a good team. And she wasn’t going to upset Tyler by letting him see how angry she was with Jim right now. No, she would play along, get her son out of the way, and then Jim Donovan would be sorry.

  Tyler’s backpack was zipped by the time Jim ended his parking lot conversation with high school senior Jamal Wolcott, and the three-afternoons-a-week volunteer climbed into his car to leave.

  “Hi, Dr. Donovan! G’night, Jamal!” Tyler was out the door and racing toward the truck. Following the ten-year-old out, Sally put on her coat and stepped into the chilly night air, listening for the click of the lock as she pulled the entryway door firmly shut.

  “Are you staying for dinner again?” Tyler asked Jim.

  “Yeah. Is that okay?”

  Tyler grinned. “It’s good. I’ll show you my new game I got for the Wii.” He clambered into the truck. Sally scooted in beside him, glad the interior was warm. Jim drove the short distance to her home, stopping at the base of the drive for Sally to pull her mail out of the mailbox, then parked in front of the garage as he had before.

  Ignoring Jim as they all trailed into the house, Sally looked at her son. “Honey, you go wash up and set the table. I’ll get dinner started. She hooked her coat on the old-fashioned rack standing like a sentinel in the corner of the entry hall, and marched past the vet without a glance. Her mind was running in circles like a dog chasing its tail.

  How was she going to get rid of him? When would she get a chance to blast him like he so richly deserved? And what was she going to cook—she’d been t
oo distracted this morning to remember to pull anything out of the freezer. Pride forbade giving another adult hot dogs and microwave popcorn—no matter how angry she was at him. Damn. Why couldn’t he just go away?

  She looked at the mail she’d tossed on the counter. May as well get it over with. One by one she flipped through a postcard from the dentist reminding her of Tyler’s next appointment, a utility bill, and pages of throw-away advertising. Breath whooshed out of her lungs in relief.

  “Nothing today?” Jim spoke from directly behind her. Even as she jumped from the sound, his warm hands were settling on her shoulders and massaging away the tension in her neck. Taken unawares—how did he keep sneaking up on her like that?—she closed her eyes and leaned back against him with a sigh.

  Warmth. Safety. Acceptance. The tension of the day began to ebb. He turned her to face him, but she kept her eyes shut as she wrapped her arms around his neck, resting their weight on shoulders made higher than her own mainly by the solid mass of muscle sculpted over them. As long as she didn’t open her eyes, she wouldn’t have to think about it.

  Strong and warm, he drew her close to him. His hand slid up her spine to cradle the back of her head and tilt it for his kiss. Her lips parted slightly and she felt the whisper of his breath against them. Awareness spread like warm honey through her body.

  “Uuh, Mom? Can I come in and set the table?”

  She felt Jim’s head turn as she jerked open her eyes, but his arms remained wrapped around her.

  “Come on in, Tyler. It’s okay,” Jim said calmly. “Go ahead and get the table set.”

  She was pushing against his chest now, but he didn’t seem to notice. His arms still held her firmly against him, without apparent effort.

  Tyler pointed to the drawer they were leaning against. “I need to get the silverware out.”

  “Right.” Jim released her and stepped back as she moved sideways to give Tyler access to the drawer. She saw curiosity in her son’s eyes, but—thank God—not fear or distress. She, on the other hand, had fear and distress in abundance. What was she doing, letting Jim move in on her like that? How could she have forgotten about Tyler? One way or another, she was going to have to figure out what to tell her son, not only about the kiss he’d almost walked in on, but about why he had to do his homework at the shelter instead of at home, and about the other restrictions she knew would be coming.