A Buckhorn Bachelor (4 page)

Each rung she descended brought that pert rump closer to him. Occasionally she used the branches to help.

“What if I hadn't come by?” he thought to ask.

“I'd have figured out somethin'.”

With her sweet, lyrical accent, he'd always known she didn't sound like a stodgy librarian. Now he also knew her figure didn't match the stereotypical librarian, either. The woman was flat-out smoking hot.
“Somethin',”
he said, mimicking her, “like what?”

She paused, looked up at the tree, then at the lake. “I reckon I could've dropped into the water.”

“Hell of a drop.” When she got close enough, Adam reached for her waist and swung her down the rest of the way. She immediately turned to face him, her chin up so she could see his eyes.

His hands were still on her naked waist, and he felt the dewiness of her skin, smelled the warmth of her from the hot afternoon sun.

He drew her closer.

She came up to her tiptoes...

Temptation had never looked so good. “Probably not a good idea with a pissed off feral cat in a canvas tote.”

Confused, a little hazy, she asked, “What's that?”

“Your idea, about dropping into the lake?”

Her eyes almost crossed. “
That's
what you were ponderin'?” Giving a frustrated groan, Issy dropped her forehead to his chest. “We're here doin' the whole eye thing—or at least I thought we were—and you're contemplatin' ways my plan wouldn't work.”

“Not really.” Mostly he'd been thinking about saving the cat and then moving on to more rewarding pursuits. Like getting Issy out of that itty-bitty swimsuit.

“You are the most impossible man.”

“I'm not the one who was sitting naked in a tree.”

She lightly punched his side, then braced her hand on him. Then stroked. “I'm not
nekkid
,” she whispered.

God, he loved her accent.

She coasted her open hand to his back, then up his spine. Voice gone husky, she said, “And you're wearin' even less than me.”

She was still close, and he copied her caress, teasing the line of her spine—and making his own voice hoarse. “My bottoms cover a whole lot more.” And good thing, since her nearness had physically affected him.

Leaning back, she took in his chest and breathed a little faster. “You shouldn't be here.”

“Why?” He tensed, and automatically tightened his hold on her. “You're expecting company?”

Quirking a slim brow, she laughed. “Seriously, Adam? Would I look like this for company?”

His attention went over her again, and he inhaled. Softly he said, “Works for me.”

She pushed away. “I'm not wearin' make-up.”

“I've seen you without make-up plenty of times.”

“No you haven't. You've seen me wearin' just the right amount of make-up to look like I'm not wearin' it.”

Okay, he didn't understand that. Not at all. Screwing up his face, he said, “Come again?”

“I wear
subtle
make-up. You know, enough to make me look prettier.”

With complete sincerity, he said, “You're always pretty.”

She rolled her eyes. “Since when?”

Adam stalled. This was one of those tricky female questions, and he hated tricky questions. “Since...always?”

“Uh huh.” She crossed her arms, which only further plumped up her breasts. “That's why every time we get too close, you say somethin' inane?”

Giving her a truth, Adam said, “You throw me off my game.”

“Your game?”

“With women.”

“Oookay.” She switched her weight from one foot to the other, as if settling in. “Let's hear it.”

Still looking at her hips, he said, “It, what?”

“How I throw you off.”

This he could answer, no problem. “You're different from other women.” How he wanted her was different. How she affected him.

How she burned him up.

“I'm waitin'.” She even tapped her bare foot to the ground. “Expound on that, why doncha?”

“Okay, sure.” This part proved more difficult. “You're mature.”

After a three-second blank stare, she lifted the back of her wrist to her forehead and slumped against the tree. “My, my, my,” she said, and with her accent it sounded like
mah, mah, mah
. “Such heated praise. I do believe I might swoon.”

Adam took his time looking at her body in the blue bikini. It had little pink flowers on it and looked both feminine and somehow vintage. With his gaze on the gentle curve of her belly, then her upper thighs, he stepped closer and murmured, “Let me try again.” He slid a hand to her waist, and inhaled deeply at the silky warmth of her skin. “You're a smart, independent, confident woman who also happens to be sexy as hell.”

Her lips lifted in the slightest of smiles. “Much, much better.” She put both hands to his shoulders.

Good.

But he needed to know, so as he skimmed his lips over her cheekbone, he asked, “How'd last night go for you?”

“You left me,” she breathed, her eyes sinking shut. “So it was rather disappointin'.”

Hope took hold. “No hookups?”

“After chattin' with you?” Her gaze locked with his and she chided, “You should know better.”

Just what he'd wanted to hear. “You were gone so long—”

“Sheriff Turly roped me into a coupla of games of horseshoes. But I did come back lookin' for you.”

“Then I'm sorry I left.” More than ready to taste her, Adam leaned down.

Isabella came up.

And the cat dropped behind them with a very annoyed screech.

CHAPTER FOUR

H
OW
HAD
SHE
forgotten about the cat? That poor animal was the reason she'd been caught in a tree in her tiniest bathing suit. “I'm a terrible person,” she murmured as she took the tote bag and slowly knelt to face the cat.

“No, you're not,” Adam told her, and then, “Let me.”

“You as good as your daddy?” Jordan Sommerville was known to whisper a cow to sleep, or talk a dog through labor. The man had an amazing ability with soothing animals.

“No one is.” Adam came down to one knee beside her. “But I've helped Dad plenty of times, so maybe I can manage. It'd help if we had something to feed him.”

Giving her unspoken agreement, Issy moved back.

Adam ignored the tote bag and began speaking softly to the cat.

“Be right back,” she whispered, and took off in a jog for the house. She ran in the back door, down the hall and to her closet where she grabbed a gigantic T-shirt that she dropped over her head. She raced back to the kitchen, rummaged in her fridge and finally found some cheese. It'd have to do. She hurried back to Adam...but pulled up short when she saw him sitting cross-legged on the ground, the cat lifting up to Adam's outstretched hand to be petted.

Awww...
Right then and there, her heart completely melted. No man should look that mouthwateringly good and also be so caring for animals. That's what she called overkill in the appeal department.

In a barely-there whisper, she asked, “What should I do?”

“Come in here on my other side—slowly—and have the food ready.”

As she literally tiptoed, she whispered, “All I had was cheese. I'm not much for lunchmeat or hot dogs or any of that nasty stuff.”

“Cheese will work.” As she eased down beside him, Adam added, “And hot dogs are not nasty.”

The cat watched her warily, braced to run, so she didn't debate the point with him. “How'd you get him to trust you so quickly?”

Adam now had his hand repeatedly coasting down the length of the cat's back, all the way to the tip of his tail. “I repeated some of the things I've heard Dad say, in the way he usually says them. It's worked before on kids at the school, but I'd never tried it on a feral cat.”

“You sure he's feral?”

“I think so. But also desperate. She's way too skinny—”

“She?”

Just then the cat high-stepped away from them, tail up as Adam stroked her. Isabella looked, made a face, and said, “I don't see anythin'.”

Amusement curved his mouth. “That's the point.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, she's got a few superficial injuries, and she needs to eat more. And I'm pretty sure she has fleas.”

That sounded horrible, all of it, and Isabella's heart broke just a little. “Poor baby.”

“I suggest we try to get her in a crate, then we can take her to Dad. He'll fix her up.”

We? Did he mean now? Starting to worry, she asked, “And then what?”

He rolled a shoulder. “Then you have a cat.”

She considered it, and liked the idea. “What does that entail, exactly?”

Adam gave her a quick, searching look. “You've never had a pet?”

“No.”

His expression softened, almost as if he felt sorry for her.

That didn't offend her because she also thought it was pretty sad that she'd never had a pet to love.

“Hmm...let's see. She could get all her medical treatment right away with Dad. Then you'll need a cat box, for sure. Regular brushings to help her stay groomed. Food, fresh water, the occasional treats... Overall cats are pretty independent. And given this one has been raised outside, I doubt you'd be able to keep her in.”

Issy nodded, but said, “You mentioned your dad?”

“He's a vet.”

“Right, I know that.” He was the most respected vet in three counties. “But don't we need an appointment?”

Moving slowly so he wouldn't spook the cat, Adam lifted a hip and retrieved his cell phone. Using only his thumb, he cleared a passcode, pulled up a number, and put through the call.

A second later, Jordan Sommerville answered.

Adam explained the situation, checked the time on his phone, and said to Issy, “We don't need an appointment.”

“Oh.” For some reason, she blushed. “Um...good.”

He went back to listening, nodded, and asked her, “Lunch with my dad okay by you?”

Lunch. With his
father.

When she hesitated, Jordan said something else into the phone. Adam half smiled. “Dad said he's buying.”

What in the world? What did any of that mean? And why would his father want to have lunch with her?

Confused, she asked, “What about the cat?”

“Dad will keep her overnight. We can grab a bite after he treats her.”

Clearly she'd been out-maneuvered, she just didn't know why. Willing to play along, she pasted on a smile. “That sounds lovely. Thank you.”

Adam listened to his dad again, nodded a few more times, and finally ended the call by saying, “If by some chance I don't catch her, I'll call you back.”

Catch her? After that odd exchange, Adam turned his head, lifted a brow, and smiled at Isabella.

She wondered if he meant the cat, or her.

* * *

I
SSY
DIDN
'
T
HAVE
a crate so the cat was in a cardboard box and she wasn't happy about it. Catching her had been easy. Issy had put more food in the box and in the cat went. When he'd closed the flaps, though, she'd flipped out and hadn't settled down since.

Now changed into white jean shorts and a pretty sky blue top, Issy drove them to town in her small compact car. She swallowed repeatedly, winced at the cat's mournful cries, and cringed when it attempted to attack the box.

Adam had secured the box with rope and held it on his lap. He didn't want to take any chances on having a furious, feral cat loose in the small enclosed space.

“Shh, shh,” he said. “It's okay, girl. Dad's anxious to meet you, and I promise you'll like him.”

Looking very unsure, Isabella spared him a quick glance. “You
are
talkin' to the cat, right?”

He looked her over, from her tensed shoulders to her smooth thighs and everywhere in between, then said only, “It applies to you both.” For as long as he'd known her, Issy had exuded confidence and competence. Now, though, she looked out of her realm.

“Adam?”

“Hmm?”

Her slim throat worked as she swallowed. “How come your father wanted to have lunch?”

He fibbed and said, “You're saving a cat. Dad respects that, so he'd like to meet you.”
And he's cagey and intuitive and he knows I'm interested.

But no reason to share all that when she already seemed so unsure.

Was it because he hadn't given her enough time to put on make-up? Not that Issy needed it, anyway. In the short time they'd been in the yard, she'd gotten some sun and her cheeks, as well as the tip of her nose, were pink. She'd pulled her dark red hair into a loose knot on top of her head, but little silky curls drifted around her temples, her ears, and her nape. Long brown lashes shaded her bright blue eyes and her slim brows continually drew together, telling him whenever she fell into puzzling thought.

Adorable.

Sexy.

And he wanted her.

Still.

More.

“Talk to the cat,” she ordered. “You make me nervous when you stare.”

Instead of looking away, he asked, “What's on your agenda after lunch?”

“Reckon I'll go to a pet store to grab some supplies. When she comes home, I need to be prepared.”

After clawing a hole in the side of the box, the cat pressed one eye to it and stared at Issy. Or more like glared.

She gulped and gripped the wheel tighter.

Adam couldn't help but laugh. “I promise she'll settle down. But like I said, she might never be an inside cat. Which just means you'll have to be extra diligent about keeping fresh water and food available outside, watching for ticks and fleas, and keeping her treated.”

They pulled into the lot of his dad's clinic. Despite being a Sunday, several cars were there. One Sunday a month the clinic spayed and neutered strays—this must be the day.

Issy parked, then hustled around to his side of the car. All the way in, she fussed and fluttered around as if wanting to help but unsure what to do.

“Take a breath,” Adam told her. “It's going to be fine.”

But like listening to a baby cry, hearing the cat's forlorn meowing kept her frantic.

A half-dozen neighbors sat in the waiting room, some with dogs, some with cats. They all stared as Adam and Issy came in. Being it was such a small county, he had no doubt Buckhorn would soon be alive with gossip that the middle school librarian was with the gym teacher.

And truthfully, that suited him just fine.

After only a few minutes they were shown to a room, but then waited another fifteen minutes before his dad could join them.

Issy heard him before they saw him and she went on alert. Watching her watch the door, Adam saw her eyes go a little wider, her lips part slightly...

Why did every little thing seem so sexy?

Jordan stepped in with a smile. “Adam, Isabella. Sorry you had to wait.”

Issy jumped to her feet in a rush. “Dr. Sommerville, thank you. It's obvious you're busy and I appreciate you makin' the time to see us.”

Without slowing down, his dad smiled at her, took her hands, and smiled some more. “My pleasure, I promise.”

Issy's “deer in the headlights” stillness amused Adam. He said again, “Breathe, honey. It's going to be okay.”

His dad released her and turned his knowing gaze on Adam.

Adam, well used to his dad's ways, didn't blink an eye. But Issy, hands locked together, frowned.

After a slow smile, Jordan's focus went to the cat. “The little lady isn't happy.”

Seeing Issy's expression, Adam almost laughed.
The cat
, he mouthed to her, then grinned when she blushed.

Adam set the box on a metal table and stepped back to let his dad do his thing.

He did it really well.

“Easy now, sweetheart. It's all right.” Jordan kept talking, nonsense mostly, soft words to sooth the cat.

As she listened, Issy's eyes went heavy—as if mesmerized. His dad often had that effect. He could talk to a buzzard and make it coo. Many times his effect had carried over to humans, especially female humans.

His mom sure hadn't been immune.

When Jordan opened the box, Issy backed up next to Adam, expecting the worst after all the cat's snarling complaints.

Instead, as his dad lifted her out and cradled her close, all you could hear were her purrs.

“That's amazin',” Issy breathed.

“Dad has his ways,” Adam murmured.

“I'd heard, but I'd never seen.” Still watching Jordan, she let out a breath. “You have a true gift, Dr. Sommerville.”

“Call me Jordan,” he murmured, and twenty minutes later, he had the cat happily settled in a roomy crate with soft bedding and dishes of food and water.

“Tomorrow I'll get the results of the blood tests,” his dad told them. “Once she's better rested, we'll treat her for fleas and any other pests. Do you have a name for her that I can enter in the medical records?”

Issy, still watching the cat with a very soft expression, shook her head. “I'm sorry, but I hadn't even thought about it.”

“You're keeping her?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Adam saw that she'd already won over his dad, but that decision definitely cinched the deal. Jordan Sommerville was a sucker for anyone who cared for his beloved animals.

Satisfied, Adam said, “We'll come up with something over lunch.” He slipped his arm around her, a move his dad noted, just as Adam had intended. He'd get his dad on his side, and some of the townsfolk.

Knowing Amber was out to set Isabella up with other men, staking a claim—even a temporary one—seemed like a very good idea.

* * *

I
SABELLA
WANTED
TO
melt under the table.

The second they'd walked into the diner, Sawyer and Morgan Hudson, Adam's uncles, had waved them over to their four-seat table. A waitress was beckoned to bring a fifth chair and now they were all squeezed together.

How in the world had she gotten into this situation?

Three of the four patriarchs of Buckhorn were currently smiling at her, and she just plain didn't understand it.

While they waited for their food, the men all engaged her in conversation. She knew each of them, of course. You couldn't live in Buckhorn and not know them.

As the town doctor, Sawyer ran a private practice out of his home, something he'd been doing since the day he got his medical license. In his mid-sixties, silver tinged his black hair and smile lines emphasized his chocolate brown eyes. He was still a very handsome man with an athletic build that she knew he'd gotten from working on the family property whenever he didn't have patients to see.

Morgan, only a little younger than Sawyer, remained a beast of a man, broad in the shoulders and thick in the chest. He had the same silver-tipped black hair but with vivid blue eyes that seemed to see
everything
. He'd once been sheriff but was now the mayor, and very involved in community service.

Jordan, the youngest of the three in his late fifties, had a very different look. Sun-kissed brown hair and deep green eyes. The only thing he shared with the others was his height and athletic build.

The entire clan—all of Adam's family—were physical specimens, beyond nice, and respected by everyone.