Книга - A Touch of the Beast

A Touch of the Beast
Linda Winstead Jones


Hawk Donovan was seeking the truth about his mysterious past. And when his search led him to a former fertility clinic, for once the avowed loner had no choice but to ask for help from beautiful Sheryl Eldanis.The desirable vet didn't want the handsome rancher poking around her new office, but Hawk desperately needed access to the old clinic files–and her. Her strength enticed him; her wit seduced him. Hawk knew they could never have a future–unless he could find what he was looking for in the sinister records. But he soon feared it was too late to protect Sheryl. From a broken heart…and from the danger he'd brought to her door.









Hawk had been beautiful.


The way he walked, the way he and the mare moved together…it was like poetry in motion.

Now Sheryl looked at his face, lit by the glow of the dashboard. It was a hard face—unforgiving, but also honest. One more step toward him and she knew she’d be in too deep. This man oozed animal magnetism. What drew her to him? Chemical attraction? Biological need?

Whatever it was, she didn’t need it, a voice warned inside her head.

But like it or not, she wasn’t ready to turn her back on Hawk Donovan and his mysteries. Yet as she looked at his profile and tried to make sense out of everything she’d seen of this man, she got the distinct feeling that she didn’t want to know all his secrets….




A Touch of the Beast

Linda Winstead Jones







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Kathleen Stone. It’s readers like you

who make telling stories such a joy.




LINDA WINSTEAD JONES


would rather write than do anything else. Since she cannot cook, gave up ironing many years ago, and finds cleaning the house a complete waste of time, she has plenty of time to devote to her obsession for writing. Occasionally she’s tried to expand her horizons by taking classes. In the past she’s taken instruction on yoga, French (a dismal failure), Chinese cooking, cake decorating (food-related classes are always a good choice, even for someone who can’t cook), belly dancing (trust me, this was a long time ago) and, of course, creative writing.

She lives in Huntsville, Alabama, with her husband of more years than she’s willing to admit and the youngest of their three sons.

She can be reached via www.eHarlequin.com or her own Web site www.lindawinsteadjones.com.










Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16




Chapter 1


Hawk studied the boxes and bottles of remedies that were neatly arranged on the shelf. Greenlaurel’s sole pharmacy, Chapman Drugs, usually had everything a man might possibly need. But since the doctors were stumped about the cause of Cassie’s sudden onset of seizures, Hawk had no idea what to buy to make his sister feel better.

What he really wanted to do was hunt down one Dr. Shane Farhold and break the man’s scrawny neck. Farhold had always seemed like a decent enough guy, not the kind of man who would knock up a woman and then disappear. Hawk knew he’d be angry even if Cassie hadn’t been having strange spells.

He grabbed a couple of medications off the shelf. Something for nausea, something else for headaches. At the last minute he snagged a bottle of pink stuff. His mother had always given them that for every little illness. He didn’t really think it would do any good, but he had to try something. On the way out of town he’d stop at the grocery store for ginger ale and soda crackers. They were as likely as anything else to work.

Deep down he knew the medicines that might help Cassie with her normal pregnancy ailments would do nothing at all for the mild but disturbing seizures no one could explain. And he didn’t dare ask anyone about a treatment for the odd flashes of precognition that followed the episodes.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for here,” a smoky voice whispered.

Hawk turned sharply to find an older woman, one he did not recognize, standing just a few feet away. He hadn’t even known she was present until she’d spoken. In ordinary circumstances he knew very well what was going on around him; his worry for Cassie had clouded his senses.

The woman who looked up at him with fearless green eyes was not a resident of Greenlaurel, Texas, or the surrounding county. Hawk had grown up on a ranch outside this small town, and with the exception of his four years in the military, he’d spent his entire life here. Besides, except for Harmony Eastwood, a middle-aged, self-professed, die-hard hippie who had been emulating Stevie Nicks for more than twenty years, the ladies of Greenlaurel didn’t dress this way. The woman’s silver-streaked dark hair fell well past her shoulders, and the long, loose-fitting black dress she wore could have come straight out of the seventies.

“How do you know what I’m looking for?” Hawk asked sharply.

The woman leaned in slightly closer. “Your sister is ill, and you want only to take care of her. What she needs, for herself and for the baby, you won’t find in any pharmacy.”

Great. Apparently word was already out that Cassie was pregnant and sick. Not that Hawk cared, or ever had, what people thought about him or his family. But Cassie deserved better.

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.” He headed for the cash register at the front of the store.

“I’m not selling anything, Hawk.”

He wasn’t surprised that she knew his name, either. In a small town, information was easy enough to come by. Hawk glanced through the glass front door of the pharmacy and smiled at Baby. The big yellow dog—a mixed breed with a healthy dose of golden retriever—sat right where Hawk had told her to stay, watching for him through the glass and waiting patiently.

Hawk placed his purchases on the counter, and Ike Chapman began to ring them up. Slowly. “I heard that Cassie wasn’t feeling well,” Ike said with a nod of his balding head. “I hope she gets to feeling better real soon.”

“Thanks,” Hawk said succinctly.

The strange old woman circled around him, as if she were headed for the front door. Ike watched her as closely as Hawk did. After all, she was a stranger, and strangers in Greenlaurel were always suspect. The woman moved gracefully, but before she passed by, she swept in with a swish of her skirts to grab Hawk’s hand. She pressed a piece of paper into his palm and folded his fingers over the note. “What you need can be found here. Look to the past for your answers, Hawk.”

Hawk gently but firmly took his hand from the woman and reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet so he could pay Ike for the medicine. The bell on the front door rang gently as the woman in black opened the door.

He was about to toss her note into a trash can behind the counter when she said in a very soft voice, “By the stars above, you look so very much like your mother.”

Hawk’s head snapped around just in time to see the door slowly close. He bolted, leaving his purchases sitting on the counter as he ran after the woman. A newly arriving customer, agonizingly slow and nearly ancient Addie Peterson, opened the door before he reached it. Standing front and center and planted there like a tree, she said hello, smiled and began to tell Hawk about her newest ailment. He nodded curtly, obviously impatient, and waited for her to move out of the doorway. When she took a step forward, he slipped around her and burst through the pharmacy doors.

Hawk searched up and down the street for any sign of the woman who’d given him the message, but she was already gone. Where could she have disappeared to so quickly?

Baby stood. Her ears perked up and her tail wagged furiously. Hawk dropped to his haunches and looked the dog squarely in the eye. He reached out to stroke firmly but gently behind Baby’s left ear. “Where did she go, girl? Show me.”

Baby ran down the sidewalk, turning sharply into the alley between the pharmacy and the coffee shop next door. Hawk followed. Through the narrow alley they ran, then down a grassy hill and into the parking lot of the restaurant that had closed down last year. In the middle of the small parking lot Baby came to a dead stop. Confused, she walked in a tight circle and then turned her gaze toward the street.

Hawk cursed under his breath, and Baby looked up sharply.

“Not your fault, Baby.” Hawk reached down and rubbed her head. “You did good.” But the strange woman was no-where in sight. She’d obviously left a car waiting in the parking lot, and she must’ve run from the drugstore in order to escape. Even with Mrs. Peterson slowing him down he should have been able to catch the woman who’d pressed the note into his hand.

When she’d said that Hawk looked like his mother, she must have been talking about his birth mother. The woman he’d called Mother all his life had been five foot one in her best heels. She’d had a round and cheerful face with dimples that appeared when she smiled, blue eyes and blond hair. No one had ever mentioned a resemblance before, because there wasn’t one.

Hawk’s eyes and hair were dark, and he’d always been tall for his age. In his youth he’d been lean, but in the past few years he’d added some muscle to his frame. His disposition was nothing like his mother’s, either. She’d been sunny. She’d been able to laugh easily. She’d loved people and they loved her.

Nope, Hawk Donovan had nothing in common with his mother.

From here the odd woman could have gone anywhere. He could try to follow her, but by the time he got to his truck on Main Street and picked a direction, she’d be long gone, and he didn’t have time to waste. Not today. Crap! How could an older woman move so quickly? He should have caught her long before she’d reached the parking lot and driven away. Obviously, she’d known he would follow…and she had no intention of getting caught.

Hawk stood tall and opened his fisted hand, unfolding the scrap of paper the woman had placed there. It said 204 Pine Street, Wyatt, North Carolina. There was nothing else written there, no clue as to what he might find at this address. He turned and headed back to the pharmacy to collect his purchases, retracing his steps up the hill and through the alley to the sidewalk on Main Street. A few shoppers walked along that sidewalk, purchases in hand, but for the most part it was a quiet September morning in Greenlaurel.

What if the old woman was right, and there was nothing here in Greenlaurel that would help Cassie? The knowledge that there might be no way for him to help her was scary. They’d lost their parents nearly three years back; Dad in a car accident, Mom from a heart attack not four months later. Hawk’s twin sister was all the family he had left. Her and the baby she carried. He would do anything to help them.

There was certainly no guarantee that he could find what he needed, what Cassie and the baby needed, at the address on the sheet of paper he still held in his hand, but he was desperate.

Desperate enough to travel to North Carolina on such thin evidence?

Back in the pharmacy, Ike handed over the small bag of items, then took Hawk’s money and made change with maddening deliberation, counting out each coin as if he’d just learned to count. He’d been making change just this way for more than forty years.

Addie Peterson, who was apparently put out because Hawk had brushed past her in midailment, lifted her nose and continued to study the selections on a shelf not far from the front counter.

“That woman who was in here a few minutes ago,” Hawk said as he returned his wallet to its place in the back pocket of his jeans. “Do you know her?”

“Never saw her before,” Ike said. His old eyes twinkled. “Strange-looking lady, I must say. I would guess she was just passing through. What was that she said to you as she left? Something about your mother?” Ike Chapman was certainly old enough to remember when the Donovans had brought their newly adopted twins home, some twenty-eight years ago, and he’d known the Donovans well.

But Ike’s old ears weren’t as good as Hawk’s. In truth, Hawk didn’t know anyone who could hear as well as he did. “I don’t think she was talking to me,” he said. A blatant lie, since the woman’s words had sent him racing out of the store. “You wouldn’t know where she might be staying?”

The old man shrugged his thin shoulders. “If she’s staying in town I reckon she’s at the Sunshine Motel, though she might be out at the RV park near the old campgrounds.”

Hawk thanked Ike and stepped onto the sidewalk, where once again Baby waited. She wasn’t as calm as she had been before; she’d picked up on Hawk’s own frustration.

He was going to search for the old woman at the motel and the RV park, and he’d drive his truck down the road, just in case he got lucky and spotted her along the way. But he had a feeling he wasn’t going to find her. Not here in Greenlaurel, anyway.

Maybe he’d find her in Wyatt, North Carolina.



Sheryl Eldanis locked up the veterinary clinic and headed toward home, walking as always. Laverne, that obstinate gray cat, walked beside her but a little ahead. Laverne wasn’t the type to follow. Ever.

Sheryl and Laverne had a lot in common these days. Neither of them wanted to be told what to do.

She couldn’t help but be pleased with the way her life was going now. Things had been working out well in the few months she’d been here. Wyatt was a smaller town than the one she’d grown up in, and she hadn’t been sure exactly how she’d take to living in such a place. But it suited her. She knew all her neighbors and they knew her. Town socials were frequent and low-key and surprisingly fun.

Now if she could just convince the local population that she wasn’t interested in dating, dancing or marriage, she’d have it made.

Her last romantic relationship had been bad enough to make her swear off men forever. She didn’t need a man, not for financial support or emotional support or sex. She was a veterinarian with her own business, and finances, while occasionally tight, were under control. For emotional support she had Laverne. And Bruce and Howie and Bogie and Princess and Smoky. As for sex…she could learn to live without it, if the occasional thrill meant letting a man disrupt her well-ordered life.

Yeah, Michael had taught her well. Romance just wasn’t worth all the trouble that came with it.

“Hi, Sheryl.”

The next-door neighbor—a tall, slender and attractive woman who always seemed to be smiling—rose from her place in the front yard where she’d been planting mums in an obscenely neat flower bed, dusting dirt from her knees and then pulling off her gardening gloves.

“Hi, Debbie.” Sheryl took a detour and headed down the walkway that led from the sidewalk to the neighbors’ front door. “Pretty day.”

Debbie’s smile widened. “I love autumn. September is my favorite time of year.”

“I like spring myself,” Sheryl said. “Autumn runs a close second, though.” She was happy to see the heat of summer wane. And traffic through town decreased substantially when the summer beach traffic let up.

Debbie studied the clear blue sky for a moment before asking, “What are you doing this weekend?”

“Sleeping, mostly,” Sheryl answered.

Debbie laughed. The woman had so much energy. She had a husband who worked on the road most of the time, three kids and a part-time job. And yet she never seemed to be overwhelmed. Did she ever sleep? Maybe that was the secret. No sleep.

“The autumn festival is next weekend, don’t forget,” Debbie said.

“I won’t forget.” How could she? Someone reminded her on a daily basis. She looked forward to her weekends, since she worked a half day on Saturday and was off on Sunday. Unless there was an emergency, of course. All her clients knew how to reach her on the weekends and in the middle of the night.

“My brother-in-law is coming to town for the festival,” Debbie said much too casually. “Maybe you can show him around while he’s here.”

“No, thanks,” Sheryl responded, not at all surprised or dismayed. Debbie was always trying to fix her up, and she was forever raving about the joys of marriage and motherhood. Sheryl had learned to take the friendly interference in stride, just as Debbie was learning to accept the fact that her new friend wasn’t at all interested in the things that made her own life complete. She wasn’t quite there yet, though.

When she’d moved to Wyatt, Sheryl had never expected her new best friend to be eleven years older than she, a married woman with three kids and an unnatural fixation for The Home and Garden Channel.

The Home and Garden Channel gave Sheryl a headache.

After talking to Debbie for a few minutes more, Sheryl headed for her own house, ready to kick off her shoes and plop down in a comfortable chair. She’d have to feed and water the animals first, but once that was done they’d let her have a breather. A short one.

Her own yard was not as well kept as Debbie’s, and was not nearly as large. Sheryl had bought the smallest house on the block, but it was more than sufficient for her needs. The clapboard ranch was square and ordinary, but there was something warm about it. The previous owners had painted the house a pale yellow, and she liked it. She had never thought of herself as a yellow-house person, but this one… She loved it. Inside there was a large kitchen, a spacious living room, a dining room, two large bedrooms and a big bathroom that needed updating but was functional and roomier than most modern ones. The attic was unfinished and strictly for storage, but the extra space was nice. After years of living in apartments, she found the yellow house was a real luxury.

Laverne waited on the deep front porch, her gray tail swishing with impatience. Sheryl collected her mail from the metal box beside the door, but waited until she’d unlocked and opened the door before leafing through the envelopes. Bills, ads, a letter from her dad.

There had been a time when something as simple as leafing through the mail had made her heart beat too fast. After she’d broken up with Michael there had been too many angry letters waiting for her in the mailbox, too many unwanted messages on her answering machine. She hadn’t heard from her ex-fiancé in four months, but still every now and then she expected him to rise up out of the bushes.

Yeah, romance was nice enough, but it just wasn’t worth the hassle.

As she walked through the front door, a chill ran down her spine. She felt as if someone was watching her. Sheryl turned around slowly, and her eyes swept the empty sidewalk. Debbie was busy working in her flower bed again, and no one else was in sight.

She brushed off the odd feeling, attributing it to unpleasant memories of her ex, and closed the door behind her.



“It’s such a long shot,” Cassie said as Hawk threw sloppily folded clothes into his suitcase. “And North Carolina is so far away. I can’t believe you’d listen to a crazy woman who accosts you in the pharmacy.”

“What makes you think she’s crazy?” Hawk glanced up as he closed the suitcase. His sister was pacing near the door, her hands clasped tightly. She wasn’t usually so tense, but with everything that had happened lately, she had just cause.

“Everything you told me about her,” Cassie snapped. “The way she dressed, the way she sneaked up on you, the completely insufficient note. An address, that’s it. How do you know that address even exists? She might’ve made it up or it might be the address of a dry cleaner or a bakery or some poor person’s house. What she said about you looking like our mother, that’s definitely crazy. What do you think you’ll find at that address, anyway? Another weird woman offering riddles about the past?”

Compared to Hawk, his sister was tiny. But the vast difference in their body mass had never stopped Cassie from standing up to him and speaking her mind.

“I don’t know what I’ll find.”

Cassie ran a nervous hand through her hair, brushing the black strands away from her face. “I know you, Hawk. You think you’re going to drive up to a house with a white picket fence, knock on the door, and our biological mother and father will come to the door with open arms, wondering where we’ve been all these years.”

He’d quit expecting anything like that years ago, though there had been a time when he’d been absolutely obsessed with finding his birth parents. “You’ll be okay while I’m gone.”

“I know I’ll be okay,” she said, a little bit calmer than she’d been a few minutes ago. “It’s just…I can’t talk to anyone else about what’s going on. They’ll think I’m nuts! And I am worried about you, you know. I don’t want you to go all that way and be disappointed when you don’t find what you expect to find.”

“I don’t expect to find anything.”

“Yes, you do,” Cassie said softly. “Hire someone to check out the address for you. You can find a private detective in North Carolina and have him check it out. That way you can stay home and no one gets hurt.”

“And what exactly would I tell this private detective?”

Cassie just pursed her lips. She knew too well that they couldn’t bring anyone else into this mix.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Hawk said. “I don’t expect to find anything but answers about your condition.”

“My condition,” Cassie scoffed. “I hate having a ‘condition’!”

“Call me anytime you need to talk. I’ll have my cell phone on twenty-four/seven.”

His sister almost pouted. “It’s not the same.”

Cassie Donovan wasn’t one to pout, not for any reason. But the episodes were tough on her. She’d always had dreams that seemed more real than dreams, but something unexpected was happening with these seizures.

She was seeing a few minutes into the future immediately after each convulsion. It was hard to swallow, impossible to explain. But over the years they’d learned to accept that some things were just that way.

Impossible.

Cassie sighed, apparently resigned to the fact that he was going to North Carolina. “If you insist on making this trip, you could fly instead of driving,” she said as she followed him down the long hallway. “It would be much quicker. Fly over, visit this address, fly home.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll need to be there, and besides, flying would only save a day or two.” He glanced down at the dog who walked beside him. “Baby hates to fly, and I can’t leave her here. Last time I went on a two-day trip, she didn’t eat the whole time I was gone.”

“You love that dog more than you love me,” Cassie said, sounding very much the way she had at the age of twelve.

Hawk hid a smile. “You know that’s not true.”

“What if I tell you that I won’t eat until you get home?”

He laughed. “The way you’ve been eating lately, I know that’s a hollow threat.”

Cassie hit him lightly on the arm as she danced around him. “That’s not very nice.”

“But it is true.”

Again she seemed to pout.

Hawk dropped the suitcase and took his sister’s face in his hands. His tough, tanned hands only emphasized her paleness. There were dark circles under her eyes, and while she’d been eating plenty lately she wasn’t gaining weight. The thinness of her face told him that she’d lost a few pounds. She might not like it, but he had to do something.

He couldn’t possibly sit around here and twiddle his thumbs and just wait for something to happen. If he could find an explanation for what was happening to Cassie, maybe even a cure, then he could rest easy. Maybe.

Protests about unrealistic expectations aside, he had to admit that the woman’s final comment had been haunting him for the past two days. You look so very much like your mother.

“What if our biological mother gave us up because she knew we were different?”

“We were infants,” Cassie argued. “How could she possibly have known?”

Hawk brushed one thumb over his sister’s ashen cheek. “That’s what I’m going to find out.”




Chapter 2


“Hey, there’s someone here to see you.”

Sheryl looked up from her chore as Cory stuck his head into the room. She never knew what color her young part-time helper’s hair would be. This week it was black. And spiked. Odd appearance aside, the teenager was wonderful with animals. Sheryl’s patients didn’t seem to mind what his hairstyle was like. They also didn’t mind that his pants usually hung so loose on his narrow hips they looked like they were about to fall to the floor.

“A drop-in?” she asked.

“Not exactly. He’s an inspector or something. He has a clipboard and a business card. I told him he could wait in your office.”

Sheryl’s heart sank. Just what she needed! There was bound to be something in this old building that wasn’t up to code. “I’ll be right there.”

“He’s kinda nice lookin’, for an old guy,” Cory added with a grin. “Maybe you shouldn’t leave him waiting too long.” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

“Not you, too!”

“Not me, too, what?” Cory asked, almost pulling off the innocent expression. “I’m just trying to, you know, fix you up. You’re hot, for an older woman. If you weren’t too old for me, I’d definitely ask you out.”

She’d never imagined that she’d be “too old” at twenty-six. “Cory, do you like your job?”

“Sure!”

“Then I suggest you shut up.”

Cory locked his lips with nimble fingers and watched her work. Silently.

Sheryl finished with the small dog on the table, then handed it over to Cory for grooming.

Her offices were located in an old building. True, the place needed some work, but the rooms were spacious and the hallway was wide, and some of the interior walls were red brick, giving the place a solid and homey feel. In addition to the equipment necessary for her practice, she’d livened the place up with plants and hung framed pictures—photographs and drawings of animals—down the long hallway. The clinic wasn’t home yet, but it was certainly beginning to feel that way.

The man who waited in her office was indeed “kinda nice lookin’.” But he didn’t look at all like a building inspector. Did men who worked for the state of North Carolina dress in black, wear their hair in a short ponytail and sport a gold earring in one ear? She didn’t think so.

“Dr. Eldanis.” The man, who hadn’t been waiting in a chair but was perusing her bookshelves, offered his hand for a quick shake. “Tony Carpenter, North Carolina Department of Structural Safety. I need to ask a few questions and take a look around the building, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Sure,” she said, seeing this intrusion as an annoyance that came with owning an old building.

“You’ve been here how long?” he asked.

“Three months.”

He nodded curtly. “And the building was empty for several years before you bought it, correct?”

Sheryl cocked her head and studied the man’s face for a moment through narrowed eyes. “Yes. The building was empty for quite some time. Don’t you have this information in your files?”

He gave her a practiced and disarming smile. “The database is woefully out of date, I’m afraid. I always find it best to cover everything pertinent when I conduct an inspection.”

Sheryl no longer trusted disarming smiles. In fact, they put her on edge.

Over the next several minutes, Mr. Carpenter asked a few questions about the condition of the building. He made a couple of quickly scribbled notations on the paper on his clipboard, and while he certainly wasn’t nervous, he was definitely wound a bit too tight.

There was something about the way he glanced around her office that made Sheryl suspect that he was a little bit too interested.

“Did the previous residents leave any materials behind?” he asked, finally laying his eyes on her again. “I understand that several years ago there was a fertility clinic at this location.”

“Yes.” Sheryl crossed her arms across her chest. “That was quite a long time ago, Mr. Carpenter.”

There was that smile again. “Call me Tony.”

Oh, I don’t think so. “A few years after the clinic closed, a doctor’s office opened here. After that the building stood empty for more than five years before I bought it.”

“I see,” he said, making a notation. “And you didn’t come across anything out of the ordinary when you moved in? Sometimes businesses will leave files and materials behind in their haste to leave.”

Sheryl backed slightly away from the so-called inspector. Why wasn’t he asking questions about the plumbing and the electrical? Why didn’t he want to know if the roof leaked when it rained, or where she stored her fire extinguishers? And why was this inspector working on a Saturday morning? It just didn’t add up.

The fertility clinic he seemed to be so interested in had been closed for close to thirty years.

“Can I see your ID, please?” she asked him.

“I showed your assistant….”

“I’d like to see it myself.”

The man with the ponytail reached into his pocket and withdrew a business card. Sure enough, it read Tony Carpenter, North Carolina Department of Structural Safety. Looked to Sheryl as if the card had been printed up on a computer. A very good computer but still… She could print up a card declaring herself a queen, but that wouldn’t make it so.

“Wait right here,” she said with a smile of her own. “I just remembered I have a phone call I need to make. I’ll be right back, Tony.” She left the room as casually as possible, then once the door was closed behind her she hurried down the hallway to the lobby. She snagged the phone on the front desk. Every instinct told her that the man in her office was not who he said he was. If she was wrong, she’d be embarrassed. But if she was right…

Wyatt had a small police force. They weren’t exactly NYPD but they did their best, considering that most of the officers were younger than Sheryl and the chief was a good ol’ boy who had grown up here and was trusted not because he was good at his job but because everyone knew him from way back.

Sheryl asked for a policeman to be dispatched to the clinic and then hurried back to her office. She might need to stall the so-called inspector for a few minutes, since law enforcement response was erratic at best. She burst into the office, ready to answer any question the ponytailed man might have.

Her office was empty.



It was a two-day trip by pickup truck from Greenlaurel, Texas, to Wyatt, North Carolina. Two full days, with a few hours’ sleep at a hotel in Tennessee along the way.

Hawk was tired, he was cranky, and with every mile that had passed he’d wondered if this impulsive trip was a mistake. Cassie needed him, the horses he’d left behind needed him.

But the odd woman’s words kept echoing in his head. She said the answers to his questions could be found in the past. What if Cassie’s new health problem was genetic? What if the address in Wyatt somehow led to their birth mother? It was a long shot, but he had to do something.

Cassie would be in good hands during his absence, and so would the horses he trained and cared for. The Donovan Ranch was a good-size organization, not a two-man operation. There were people to care for Cassie, if she needed help, and there were employees to care for the horses. If there was even a small chance that he might be able to help his sister by coming here, he had to try.

Wyatt was a small community, smaller even than Greenlaurel. It boasted a town square, complete with courthouse, sheriff’s auxiliary office and local police department. The square was completed with shops necessary for a small town to survive. Maybe they picked up some of the tourist traffic that ventured off the interstate. There were a couple of antique shops, a candy shop, two small restaurants, a bookstore and other assorted businesses. All around town, signs advertising Wyatt’s autumn festival were posted. This weekend. With any luck, he’d be long gone by then.

Two turns off the main square, he found Pine Street. There it was, 204. The freshly painted sign out front read Eldanis Veterinary Clinic. Hawk parked his truck at the curb and reached over to run his fingers through Baby’s fur. She whined, as if she knew what awaited her here.

“We’re just visiting,” Hawk said as he left the truck. Baby came with him, though not as enthusiastically as usual. “No shots, I promise.”

Baby perked up considerably, and they walked into the clinic side by side. Down the hallway that led to individual rooms, a thin teenage boy with spiked hair was pushing a broom. Curious, the kid glanced toward the lobby, checking out both Hawk and Baby as he continued with his chore.

A woman stood at the counter with her head down, a phone in one hand, a pen in the other, as she made note of an appointment. She said something pleasant to the person on the other end of the phone and smiled as she lifted her head to see who had arrived.

Sleek, dark-blond hair had been pulled back into a long ponytail, and intense blue eyes sparkled when they landed on him. Pretty girl. Very pretty. Hawk had to remind himself that he wasn’t here to admire the scenery; he didn’t have the time. Still, he had to admit that she had a nice wide mouth and a genuine smile…and man, were those eyes blue.

The smile was wider and more real for Baby than it was for him, even at the end of the day. According to the hours on the sign at the entrance, the place would be closing in five minutes.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked as she walked around the counter. She wore a long white smock that disguised her figure. Beneath her smock baggy trousers hung loosely around her legs. Her shoes were of the sensible sort.

Could she help him? It would be a whole lot easier to figure that out if he knew what he was looking for. “I guess I need to speak to Eldanis.”

“I’m Sheryl Eldanis,” she said, her smile fading slightly. “What can I do for you?”

Sheryl Eldanis was definitely the cutest vet he’d ever laid eyes on, shapeless clothes and all. And he’d known his share of vets. “I’m not really sure,” Hawk admitted. It didn’t really matter what she looked like. He needed answers, and if she was the one who had them, he didn’t care how pretty she was.

“I’m looking for information. Have you been in this location very long?” She was much too young to have been here more than a couple of years at most. “What I’m looking for is probably going to go back several years. I’m not even sure what it might be, exactly. Some information from past activities in this building, I imagine.”

All pretense of friendliness disappeared. The smile vanished, the blue eyes went hard. Her stance changed, as she became defensive, and the muscles in her body tightened. “What are you?” she asked sharply. “The second team? I don’t go for the fake building inspector, so two days later they send in an aw-shucks cowboy to charm the files out of me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She lifted a finger and wagged it at him. “You can tell your friend that I called the police after he disappeared. It only took one phone call to find out that there isn’t any Tony Carpenter. There isn’t even a Department of Structural Safety!” Eldanis stepped behind the counter and lifted the phone, dialing with anger and precision. “Let’s cut out the middle man this time around. You can talk directly to the chief of police.

“Sandy?” she said into the phone.

Hawk glanced down at the gray cat that had begun to weave between his legs. In and out, around and around, that long tail twitching and twining. He smiled and reached down to snag the friendly feline with one large hand. He felt her deep purr in his palm as he said hello.

“Hey!” Eldanis called, moving the phone away from her head so she wasn’t shouting into the receiver. “Laverne doesn’t like—”

She stopped speaking when the cat in question purred and wound its way around Hawk’s neck to settle comfortably on his shoulder. The long tail twitched and wound around his head.

“Never mind, Sandy,” Eldanis said in a calmer tone of voice. “False alarm. I’ll call you later if I need help with anything.” After she ended the call, she leaned onto the counter and studied not Hawk’s face, but the way her cat had made a home on his shoulder. She didn’t relax all at once, but gradually her distrust of him faded. A little. Maybe a trace of the smile crept back, and her expressive eyes definitely changed.

“Laverne seems to like you,” she said. “That buys you three minutes to explain yourself. I suggest you make the best of it.”



Sheryl stayed close to the phone. In fact, she kept one hand on the receiver, just in case. She was absolutely stunned by Laverne’s reaction to the man in the waiting room, and she couldn’t ignore what she saw. The stubborn cat never cuddled up to anyone, and yet she had definitely made herself comfortable on the stranger’s wide shoulders.

“My name’s Hawk Donovan,” the man said simply. “If you want to call the police, go right ahead. I don’t have anything to hide.”

That was a good sign, Sheryl decided. She relaxed a little bit. “What do you want?”

“I’m not sure,” Donovan said. “You mentioned files. What kind of files?”

Was it possible that her two visitors were not connected? Possible. Not likely. And she still didn’t trust this man—or any other. She especially didn’t trust men who looked like this one. He was too pushy. Too big. And he had a fascinating face that suggested women had been doing whatever he asked of them all his life.

She didn’t allow herself to be pushed around, not anymore, and no one told her what to do. Especially not men. “Don’t try to turn this around on me. Why are you here?”

He didn’t answer. At least, not immediately. Hawk Donovan, if that was indeed his name, was not at all bad looking. Not at all. He had the required iron jaw, and the hard body and the way of moving that came from being in the kind of physical shape most men simply dreamed of. There was something sleek about Donovan, in the way he walked, in the way he moved his head. He reminded her of a caged animal. Beautiful, fascinating, but also dangerous and unpredictable.

Big men could be aggressive, so for a moment she ignored the fact that he was over six feet tall and wide in the shoulders. His hands were big, too, and they were definitely a working man’s hands, weathered and scarred.

His dark hair might’ve been conservatively cut a while back, but was growing out just a tad on the shaggy side, untended and thick. Those eyes set above killer cheekbones were deep and dark and warm. His face would be like granite, if not for the unexpected and subtle dimple in his chin. Well-worn jeans hugged muscled thighs, and the shirt he wore was a plain and sturdy denim. The boots were leather, expensive and had seen better days. There was no cowboy hat in sight, at least not today, but she’d bet her last dollar that he had one at home.

“My sister is sick,” he said in a lowered voice. “The doctors are having a problem coming up with answers for us. Since we were adopted as infants, we don’t have any family medical history available.” The dog who’d arrived with Donovan sat at his side. Laverne continued to rest on his shoulder, and instead of dismissing the cat, as many men would have, Donovan seemed to have forgotten she was there.

“Don’t tell me,” Sheryl said sternly, not at all convinced by his supposedly tender words or swayed by the fact that he was mouthwateringly studly and intriguingly different in a way she could not explain. “You want the files from the fertility clinic to assist in your search for answers.”

He didn’t smile, but it seemed that the muscles in his face relaxed as if he were thinking about it. “Fertility clinic?”

Disgusted, Sheryl waved her hand at him. “Don’t play games with me, Donovan. Don’t stand there and pretend you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about.” What could possibly be in those old boxes that was suddenly so desirable? Maybe she should have looked through a couple of them when she’d moved them from the basement of this old building.

Donovan reached into his back pocket and pulled out a thick wallet. “I don’t know what’s going on here exactly, but it seems to me you’ll rest easier once you know that I am who I say I am.” He withdrew a driver’s license and tossed it to her. It landed on the counter and skidded to a stop directly in front of her.

She glanced at the authentic-looking license. “Fake IDs—”

“Call your police chief,” Donovan interrupted briskly. “Have him check me out if it’ll make you feel better. Have him call anyone in Greenlaurel, Texas, and ask them about me.”

She picked up the phone, ready to call his bluff. “Fine.”

Instead of challenging her, Donovan walked to a lobby chair and sat. Laverne remained on his shoulder. His dog, a large, yellow, mixed breed who obviously adored him, curled up at his feet. An absent hand, tanned and long-fingered, reached up to stroke Laverne’s thick gray fur, and the usually unsociable cat purred and swished her tail.

Donovan hadn’t been exactly warm in dealing with her, but any man who was so obviously adored by animals couldn’t be all bad.

“Aren’t you going to make your phone call?” the cowboy asked as he waited. At the sound of his deep voice, both Laverne and the yellow dog turned accusing eyes to her. This was her clinic, and that gray cat usually wouldn’t let anyone but Sheryl near her. So why did she suddenly feel like the outsider here?

“No.” He didn’t care about her phone call to the police, which meant that, true or not, his story was going to check out. She still didn’t trust him. “Come back tomorrow.”

He stood quickly, one big hand on Laverne so the cat wouldn’t be frightened by the sudden move. “Tomorrow? What’s wrong with right now?”

Carpenter had been smoother than this! The last thing she needed was a bossy man showing up to issue orders.

“It’s late, and I’m tired,” she said. “I’m sure the hotel has a room available. It’s cheap and just a couple blocks away.”

“But—”

“Tomorrow,” Sheryl said. She stepped out from behind the counter. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like my cat back.”

He reached up and grabbed Laverne in one large hand, swung the cat down and handed her over. Laverne allowed herself to rest in Sheryl’s arms for about three seconds, and then she leaped to the floor. She and the dog were nose to nose for a moment, and then Laverne began to once again wind her supple body around Donovan’s legs.



Anthony Caldwell made his way out of town, empty-handed and frustrated. According to the computer file he’d stolen, thirty-odd years ago genetic experiments had taken place in that building where Sheryl Eldanis now operated her veterinary clinic. There should be something that had been left behind. Something concrete. Proof.

Nothing remained in the building itself; he’d confirmed that for himself. After darkness had fallen and Eldanis had gone for the night, he’d searched the place from top to bottom and found nothing out of the ordinary.

That didn’t mean what he wanted didn’t exist; it just meant it was going to be tougher to find than he’d imagined it would be. Did Eldanis have possession of that “something concrete?” Or was it long gone? Somehow he’d spooked her, and he hadn’t had a chance to look around the clinic properly on Saturday morning. He’d watched her for a few days before visiting the clinic, and he’d watched her over the weekend. Not that there was much to see. She led an ordinary, dull life—her and her animals.

A neighbor had seen him last evening, dammit. She hadn’t said anything to him, but Anthony knew he’d been seen. And a woman at a store in town, where he’d stopped twice for supplies, had started asking why he was in Wyatt. Time to get out of town, at least for now.

There was a festival this upcoming weekend, and the town would be filled with strangers. He could blend in with a crowd, he knew.

He was leaving Wyatt behind him for the moment, but he’d be back.



Hawk arrived at the vet’s office shortly after eight in the morning. Sheryl Eldanis was already in and supposedly hard at work. Her cat met him before he’d taken three steps into the lobby.

There were two customers in the waiting room, even at this early hour. An older lady, who cradled a small dog in her generous lap, and an equally older gentleman with a calico cat curled up on one thigh. Both animals perked up as Hawk walked into the lobby and claimed a seat to wait. Eldanis’s cat seemed anxious to reclaim her place on his shoulder, so he moved her there. Baby curled up at his feet.

After a moment the small dog jumped from the lap where he’d been sitting contentedly before Hawk’s arrival. The cat followed suit a few seconds later. They both gravitated to Hawk, and without hesitation he reached down to give them each a gentle stroke on the head. The cat leaped into his lap. The little dog, whose leaping days were over, went up on his hind legs. Hawk reached down and snagged the dog, and made a place for the animal on his lap, there beside the cat. They did not hiss or growl at each other, but settled in much as Laverne had.

Animals had always liked him, and he’d always liked them. They were less complicated than humans, more honest and open and loving. An animal would never betray or lie. They loved completely and without demand.

For a long time Hawk hadn’t questioned his affinity with animals. It hadn’t seemed at all odd that there were times when he simply knew that one of his pets was ill or afraid. He’d called it instinct and left it at that. As a child, as a young man, he’d understood that the other people he knew didn’t have this instinct, but he didn’t worry about that too much. Everyone had his own talents.

He had been nineteen when he’d discovered that his talent with animals went beyond the ordinary.

The calico purred, and the little dog rested his head on Hawk’s knee and closed his eyes. Hawk laid a hand on the small canine body, and for an instant, just an instant, he felt the sharp pain in the animal’s hip.

Arthritis was a bitch, no matter what species it attacked.

Hawk laid his big hand on the dog’s head, and everything else faded away. In spite of the pain, the animal was happy. He was horribly spoiled, in fact, and was already thinking of the treat that would be hand-fed to him when he got home. Colors faded as Hawk saw through the dog’s old eyes. His vision wasn’t as crisp as it had once been, and in true canine fashion there was no color. Ah, but he heard everything, and he lived in a world of smells. He could even smell the woman who gave him shots and fed him treats and clipped his toenails. Sometimes she hurt him, but he liked her all the same because she knew just where to rub his tummy and she kept those treats nearby.

“What are you doing?”

Hawk’s head jerked up at the sound of that annoyed voice. For a moment Sheryl Eldanis and everything around her was gray. Gradually, color and depth came back, and he found himself staring into a very pretty—and very annoyed—face. He realized, as he removed his attention from the animals who had gathered on and around him, that he was not alone in this room. The owners of the small dog and calico cat were staring at him with wide, confused eyes.

Go. The command was silent and friendly, and the animals on his lap obeyed. The calico cat jumped to the floor and sauntered to her owner, and the little dog stood shakily. Hawk wrapped one hand around the small furry body and lowered the dog to the floor.

“You wearin’ bacon under them pants?” the old man teased as his cat leaped into his arms.

“No,” Hawk answered.

“My, the animals surely do like you,” the little dog’s owner said as she retrieved her pet. “Why, I haven’t seen Toby move that fast in five years or more.” She cast a sharp glance at the cat owner. “Though I have to say, Harold Johnston, it’s quite rude of you to suggest that the young man is hiding bacon beneath his blue jeans.”

“I was just having a bit of fun, Mildred,” Harold said with a snort. “I shoulda known you wouldn’t recognize a joke if it walked up and bit you on the—”

“Mrs. Harris,” Sheryl interrupted brightly, “you and Toby are next.”

The woman rose, offering the old man, Harold, a lift of her pert nose and her double chin as she carried her little dog to the veterinarian, and the two women began walking down the hallway. Eldanis glided; Mrs. Harris waddled. The pretty vet gave Hawk one last, sharp glance before she disappeared from view.

Sometimes Hawk wished he could read humans as easily as he could read animals. Other days he was very grateful that his talents were restricted to the animal world.

“Hot broad, ain’t she?” Harold said once the women were well down the hallway and out of hearing range.

“Dr. Eldanis?”

“Her, too, I reckon,” the old man said. “Though she is a mite young for me. Shoot, I’ve got grandkids her age!”

Which meant Harold was talking about Toby’s owner, the older woman who had turned up her nose at his supposed joke.

“You’re a young fella,” Harold continued, even though Hawk did not participate in the conversation. “How does a man go about asking a lady out these days?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Hawk answered.

“Handsome young fella like you?” Harold protested. “Surely you can give an old man some pointers. Help me out here. I’m spending a small fortune, bringing Bitsy down here every Tuesday morning just because I know Mildred is going to be here with her cantankerous mutt. Usually we don’t talk at all, and if we do it’s mostly arguing. Stubborn woman,” he added beneath his breath. “It ain’t easy to start all over again, you know. I was married for forty-one years before my wife passed. Mildred had been married almost as long when her husband passed away last year. What do you think? Should I ask her out to supper? Maybe I should just invite her to take a walk around town with me, though with my bad knee that might not be such a good idea. Maybe we could go out for an ice cream cone. I just don’t know.”

Hawk stood, at the same time scooping the gray cat from his shoulder and placing her on the ground. “Tell Dr. Eldanis I’ll be back this afternoon,” he said as he and Baby headed for the door.

“Okay. But what do you think I should do about Mildred? You never did say.”

“Sorry. I don’t know,” Hawk said as he pushed the clinic door open and stepped onto the sidewalk, his mind filled with questions of his own. Maybe he could find some answers at the courthouse, if they kept decent records. All night his mind had spun and danced. A fertility clinic! Had his birth mother been here, in this very building? His biological father?

Perusing old records was preferable to offering advice to a man old enough to be his grandfather. Even if he were inclined to chat with strangers, he was the last man who should be giving anyone advice on romance.




Chapter 3


At five minutes to four, Laverne began to pace before the door. She even seemed to peer through the glass to the sidewalk, as if she were looking for someone.

Someone. Sheryl shook her head as she rearranged a new display of dog collars near the front desk. Who was she kidding? Laverne was anxiously waiting for Hawk Donovan to show up.

Sheryl was not. It would suit her just fine if the man never showed his face here again. He was trouble through and through; she knew that with every fiber of her being. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what was in those fertility clinic files that would interest both a fake building inspector and someone like Donovan.

When she’d arrived here this morning and discovered that someone had broken in last night, Donovan had been her first suspect. But if Hawk Donovan had broken into the clinic last night looking for the files, why had he shown up here this morning? If he’d searched the clinic last night, he knew the documents he wanted weren’t here.

This morning she’d been so tempted to accuse him of breaking into her place, but she hadn’t wanted to make a scene in front of two regular clients. Gossip in Wyatt traveled at the speed of light, and she had no desire to be the subject of that gossip. Twice in the past three weeks, Doc Murdock had shown up unexpectedly to see if she needed any help. The veterinarian who’d retired just before Sheryl opened her practice was already bored. His retirement was the reason she’d opened her practice here, instead of in a larger city. She wanted to be her own boss, to have her own clinic, but if Doc Murdock decided to reopen his practice, she was finished. Especially if people thought this clinic wasn’t safe.

As far as the break-in went, her money was on the man who’d called himself Carpenter, and that was what she’d told the police chief when he’d shown up to talk to her, around ten o’clock—three hours after her initial phone call.

Tonight she’d go home and take a look for herself. Maybe she should just call Chief Nichols, explain what had been happening and turn the boxes over to him. Once they were out of her hands, someone else could deal with Donovan.

She hadn’t even mentioned the files to the chief. Nichols was a nice man, and it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. But what if Carpenter showed up with a new name and a new ID? Chief Nichols would hand the boxes of documents over and be glad to be rid of them.

Laverne quit pacing at ten after four, and stood in the middle of the lobby with her eyes riveted to the front door. Sure enough, not three minutes later the door opened and Hawk Donovan and his dog walked in. Donovan looked to be as surly as ever.

There was something unusual about the man, surliness and good looks aside. The way he moved… He was sleek and strong enough to make any red-blooded woman’s mouth water. She had never known it was possible for a man to be graceful, in an entirely masculine way, but Donovan pulled it off. It was downright eerie, and more than a little fascinating.

Laverne, the traitor, meowed and greeted Donovan as if he were her long-lost and much beloved owner. The big man relaxed visibly, and even had a smile for the fat cat. Did he respond that way to any human? She thought not. Laverne didn’t take up residence on Donovan’s shoulder this afternoon, but settled into his arms with a purr.

Donovan did not have a smile for Sheryl. He fixed dark eyes on her and said, “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” She turned and walked away from him. He was the most infuriating man! Demanding and cantankerous and…and Laverne really did love the big guy. Sheryl stopped before she reached the hallway and turned to find that Donovan hadn’t moved. He stood in the waiting room with a contented Laverne in his arms and a happy dog at his feet.

Yeah, a man like this one was nothing but trouble.

“Did you break in here last night, searching for your damned files?” she asked sharply.

He looked properly shocked. Was the reaction genuine or a well-planned act? She didn’t know him well enough to judge for herself.

“No, of course not. Someone broke in? Was anything stolen?”

Naturally, he was worried that someone else might have gotten their hands on what he’d come here for. “A lock on the back door was broken, and a few things in my office and in the basement were moved. As far as I can tell, nothing was taken.”

If she was reading Donovan correctly, the news of the break-in sincerely disturbed him.

“I did some research at the courthouse today,” he said. “In the seventies, there was a fertility clinic in this building. They were shut down for some reason, and a couple of years later a doctor had his offices here. He retired, and the building stood empty for a few years. Three months ago you moved in.”

“You’re not telling me anything that I don’t already know.”

He was not deterred by her attitude. “What I’m looking for is paperwork that might’ve been left behind by the fertility clinic. Maybe by the doctor,” he added with a frown. “I can’t be sure.”

“And you expect whatever it is you’re looking for to be here after all this time?” she snapped.

For a long minute he didn’t answer. She wished he would give away something with his dark eyes, but they—and he—remained a mystery. If he would smile at her and try to beguile the files out of her, she’d know he was just like Carpenter and she could toss him out with a clean conscience.

But he didn’t. Instead he finally said, “I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for. Something important is here, in this building. Or was. There could be medical information that was left behind. About my birth mother.” He said the words reluctantly, as if they’d been dragged from him one syllable at time. He might be great with animals, but he was not the kind of man who shared personal information easily or often.

Heaven above, she did not want to feel even an ounce of sympathy for him! “Even if I do happen to know where some old documents are, how do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“Why should I lie?”

“Why should two men suddenly show up at my clinic looking for a bunch of moldy old files?” And what if she made a mistake and turned them over to the wrong man? What if there truly was something important in that mess of papers?

Donovan almost smiled. His lips twisted a little, and his eyes softened. Oh, eyes like that should be illegal, she thought. The man might be a cowboy, but he had gypsy eyes that were not only dark but mysterious. Soulful. “So,” he said, “they’re moldy?”

She was saved from explaining herself when Mort Dermot pushed his way through the front door, using his left hand, since his entire right arm was in a cast. Sheryl was happy enough to turn away from the maddening man who had bewitched her cat.

“Hi, Mort,” she said. “What happened to your arm?”

“That damn mare,” he answered softly. “I can’t do a thing with her and neither can anyone else. Do you have the name of that guy in Raleigh who handles horse disposal? I’d put her down myself, but…” He shook his head and stared at the floor. “I just don’t have the heart for it. But I can’t have her hurting one of my kids, and I can’t in good conscience sell her to somebody else who might get hurt. What else can I do?”

Donovan turned all his attention to Mort. “Let me have a look at her,” he offered in a low but intense voice.

“Thanks, mister, but—”

“It’s what I do,” Donovan said. “I work with difficult horses. At least let me spend a few minutes with her.”

A disgusted Mort was already shaking his head.

“If I don’t have her gentled in three hours, I’ll buy her from you,” Donovan said. “I’ll give you double what you paid for her.”

Mort was as surprised as Sheryl. Donovan made the offer without even knowing how much such a purchase would cost him.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you, mister. She really is just a bad horse. It happens.”

“Please.”

At that moment something in Sheryl’s heart melted.

Somehow she knew that Hawk Donovan would never say please for her or any other human.



The dun mare was so afraid, the fear radiating from her in waves touched Hawk to the bone.

Dermot had a small horse ranch a few miles away from town. Nothing like the Donovan Ranch, but respectable, just the same. He boarded and occasionally trained horses, but he wasn’t an expert by any means. The circular corral where the dun mare had been restrained, after kicking at Dermot and breaking the man’s arm, was in good condition.

A lot of horses had been broken here in the past. Hawk could practically smell old fear in the air. Blood and fear and forced domination. He could almost hear the pounding of hooves on the hard ground, could almost smell the blood on the air, even though it had been a long time since anyone had broken a horse here. Most of the horses who entered this corral these days were already tame.

But not the dun mare.

The vet and the man with the broken arm stayed out of the corral. Dermot tried to caution Hawk as he stepped toward the horse, but it only took a few seconds for Hawk to completely dismiss the people who watched as he approached the mare. It was like coming home, stepping into the corral. He belonged here. He was himself here in a way he would never be anywhere else.

“It’s going to be okay, girl,” he said as he approached. Before he proceeded, he untied the mare. Not only had she been tethered to a post with a short rope, her hind legs had been bound. No wonder she was frightened. Her ears were flattened to her head, her eyes were wild. As he released her bonds, he stroked gently and murmured kind words. Meaningless words. Calming sounds that came from deep in his throat. He let the sound of his voice and the touch of his hands soothe her.

When she was free from her restraints, the mare ran. She raced in circles along the boundaries of the corral, snorting and blowing, while Hawk watched silently. He tried to touch the mare’s mind with his while she ran, but she fought against him. Hawk didn’t push to connect with the animal, but he didn’t back away, either. He remained steady. Calm. Gradually the fear in the dun mare faded.

Now and then Hawk glanced at Baby, who had made herself at home near Sheryl Eldanis. Baby didn’t take to many people. She was slow to trust, with good reason. Before Hawk had found her, she’d been treated badly. It had taken years to get her to trust people again. For years she’d flinched when a person came too near. She’d cowered and hidden and waited for blows that would never come again. The mare would be the same way. Trust would not come easily.

When the time was right, Hawk lifted his hand slowly. The mare came to him, no longer running, but loping easily. She walked directly to Hawk, never hesitating, never acknowledging those who watched.

Hawk stroked the mare between the eyes, silently telling the fine animal that he didn’t want to hurt her, that he didn’t intend to break her. They would work together, a team united. No one would be her master. No one would break her spirit. There was no need for fear.

She wasn’t easily convinced. Dermot had tried to break her the old way—with pain and fear. The dun mare’s heart was too wild to be broken, but she would make a fine ally.

Time passed, but Hawk was not aware of it. He linked his mind with the mare’s in a way that was ancient and primal and inexplicable. The dun mare was no longer afraid of him, but she had not forgotten the way she’d been treated in the past few weeks. He whispered in her ear; she responded with a soft snort. Before Dermot there had been another man who’d tried to incite respect with a whip. The mare bore the marks of that method on her flanks. She would never forget, and any rider who tried to take a whip to her might truly be endangered.

But the mare came to trust Hawk. She knew without doubt that he would never hurt her, that he had no desire to possess her.

When the wildness in her eyes had gone and her ears were perked up, Hawk remembered that he and the mare were not alone. Judging by the way the sun hung low in the sky, he’d been out here well over an hour. He glanced at his watch. Almost two hours. He walked toward Eldanis and Dermot, and the mare followed.

People who had never seen him work were usually stunned the first time. These two were no exception. Eldanis wore an easy smile and an expression of bewilderment, but Dermot was truly shocked.

Hawk leaned against the fence, and the dun mare nuzzled him gently. She wanted to play; she wanted to talk. “I’ll need a place to board her until I go home. Is there another stable nearby?”

Dermot wasn’t anxious to believe what he’d seen. His logical mind was trying to dismiss what his eyes showed him. “I haven’t exactly sold her to you yet. You said three hours, and the way I see it you have an hour left.” His chin came up defiantly. “Maybe I should just go ahead and sell her to you, though. She looks fine at the moment, but how do I know she won’t start kicking again as soon as anybody else steps into the corral? This is a fluke, that’s all. Some kind of trick.”

Hawk had no desire to prove anything to this small-minded man who was still breaking horses the same way it had been done a hundred years ago and more.

In Dr. Eldanis’s eyes he saw something much more interesting than disbelief. She was impressed and intrigued. She was interested in what she’d seen him do. Like it or not, he needed her on his side, he needed her to trust him. Since he’d never been a smooth talker, he wasn’t going to win her over with polished explanations and charisma.

But maybe, just maybe, he could convince her that he was trustworthy simply by doing what he did best.

Hawk took a close look at her. She didn’t wear any makeup that he could tell, but then again she didn’t need it. She had a fresh, clean look and flawless skin that didn’t need to be covered. He wondered how she handled the larger animals she treated, since she was petite. Even her face was delicate. Not for the first time, he had to remind himself that he wasn’t here to hook up with a pretty woman, not even for a few hours.

But dammit, he needed her cooperation. He needed her to be on his side.

“I could ride her myself, but that won’t prove anything,” he told Dermot. Then he looked back at Eldanis. “Dermot has a broken arm. What about you?”

Without hesitation she nodded her head.



This afternoon she’d left Cory in charge of the clinic and ridden to the Dermot ranch with Mort and his eldest son, who’d driven his father to town to have the broken arm set. At that time Donovan had followed in his pickup. Now, just barely past dark, she was headed back to Wyatt with Donovan at the wheel and Baby and Laverne curled up in the small back seat. Both animals were fast asleep.

“I want to know everything,” she said, her eyes on Donovan’s impassive face. She sounded much too interested, much too excited. But she couldn’t help herself. Donovan had put on an amazing display. One she could not explain away. “How do you do that? Can you teach me?”

After he had easily hefted her onto the mare’s back, she’d ridden the horse that Mort Dermot had been so sure no one would ever ride without risk of injury. Hawk had stayed close by, ready and able to sweep her off the mare if necessary. But of course, that had not been necessary. Her ride had been uneventful.

Needless to say, Dermot had decided not to sell the mare to Donovan.

“There are a lot of trainers who don’t break horses in the old way,” Donovan explained. “If you’re interested in the various modern methods of horse training, there are classes available across the country. Take your pick.”

“What about you?” she asked quickly. “Do you teach classes?”

“No.” He sounded a little horrified by the prospect.

She had a feeling Hawk Donovan hadn’t learned his skill in any class given by any other trainer. What he had was a gift.

After Donovan had finished his display, Mort had been full of questions. Questions Donovan had either half answered, ignored or bluffed his way through. He did give Mort a list of instructions on how to deal with the mare in the coming days. She was not to be whipped or sacked, she was not to be bound. Mort had agreed to everything, and more questions had been fired at Donovan. They would have been there all night if Donovan hadn’t insisted that he needed to get back to town.

His affinity for four-legged creatures definitely didn’t extend to the people around him. Donovan had been gruff and impatient with Mort and with her. But when he’d been in the corral with the mare he had become beautiful. Sheryl couldn’t explain it and she didn’t even want to try. The way he moved, the way he looked at the mare, the way they’d moved together… It had been like watching poetry. She couldn’t explain it, except to come to the conclusion that Hawk Donovan was obviously more comfortable with animals than he was with people.

She could empathize.

Donovan’s face was lit by the green glow of the dashboard, since the sun had set more than an hour ago. It was a hard face, unforgiving and without gentleness or humor. But it was also an honest face, unlike that man Carpenter. Was Hawk Donovan truly searching for information about his mother?

One more step, and she would be in too deep. The best thing she could do for herself—for her sanity and her peace of mind and the conservation of her well-ordered life—would be to send Donovan packing. She could even offer to ship him the files, if he’d just get out of her life and stay out.

She’d learned to live without a man, without even the hope of one day having a romantic relationship, even though friends and family tried to tell her that she was too young to give up on the concept of love. One bad experience shouldn’t stop her from living, they said.

One bad experience. More than a year of living hell was more like it. Michael had only hit her one time. One time had been more than enough. She’d left him that night, walked out with her pride and her cheek stinging. Her cheek had healed; her pride was still a little bruised.

As if that hadn’t been enough, Michael, a man she had once loved, had turned into a stalker. He’d fooled her completely, swept her off her feet with his charm and his undivided attention and his apparent love. And then when he had her where he wanted her—boom—he’d shown his true face. Could she pick ’em or what?

Since walking out on Michael, Sheryl hadn’t looked at any man or admired one in any way. Pretty faces were a dime a dozen. Hard bodies were easy to come by.

Until Hawk Donovan had walked into her clinic, she hadn’t given much thought to what she’d given up in the name of security. It wasn’t her fault; the man oozed animal magnetism in a way she had never before encountered. What drew her to Donovan? Chemical attraction? Biological need and bad timing? Whatever this was she really didn’t need it.

But like it or not, she wasn’t ready to turn her back on Donovan and his mysteries.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Sheryl said as the lights of Wyatt, such as they were, loomed closer. “You teach me how to do that, and I’ll let you search through the files.”

His head snapped around, but the truck didn’t swerve. He, and the vehicle, remained steady. “You do have them?”

She nodded gently. “They’re in my attic at home. I moved them there when I set up the clinic. I have to warn you, they’re really a mess. I thought about tossing the old boxes out instead of moving them, but at least some of them are the doctor’s files and may be important to local residents who saw him way back when. So I moved the boxes to the house and planned to go through them when I had a chance. Haven’t thought about them much since, until a few days ago when a man impersonating a building inspector showed up at the clinic and ended up asking about the fertility clinic records.”

“Do you think that’s the same man who broke in last night?” he asked.

“I do.” She was suddenly sure Donovan would never do such a thing. He might bully his way past her and demand to see what he was looking for, but he would never sneak in and nose around. It wasn’t his style.

He braked, for no apparent reason, and slowed the truck to a crawl. They were still miles from town, and there wasn’t another vehicle in sight. Before she could ask why he was stopping, a deer bounded across the road, caught in the beam of the truck’s headlights. If Hawk hadn’t stopped, he surely would have hit the doe.

As he put the truck in motion again, she asked, “How did you—”

“I’m starving,” he interrupted. “Do you eat?”

It was such an inelegant and obviously unplanned invitation, she had to smile. “Just about every day.”

“The hotel where I’m staying has a restaurant and the food is pretty good. Wanna grab a bite?”

She hadn’t had a date since moving to Wyatt. Not that she hadn’t been asked, but with her new business and fixing up the house she’d bought and taking care of her animals she simply hadn’t had time for a social life. To be honest, she hadn’t had a date since ending her relationship with Michael. Love hadn’t been enough to get past his demands. He’d been looking for a wife who would be there every night when he came home. A woman who would put his desires and career and worth above her own. The first and only time she’d challenged him outright, he’d responded with a fist.

He hadn’t let her go easily. For months she’d turned around and found him watching. He had never touched her again, but the way he’d followed her, the way he’d hung on…it wasn’t natural. It was no wonder that she was still skittish where men were concerned. Dating was just too risky.

Not that dinner with Donovan would be a date, mind you, but they would be eating together, and people were bound to notice and talk. Still, it had been two years since she’d sent Michael packing. Maybe it was time.

“Sure,” she said, her heart fluttering briefly.

Donovan obviously didn’t want to talk about the deer, and maybe that was for the best. As she watched his profile and tried to make sense of everything she’d seen of this man, she got the distinct feeling that she didn’t want to know all his secrets.




Chapter 4


Hawk almost groaned aloud when he reached the top of the pull-down stairs, flipped the switch that turned on the uncovered bulb that hung in the center of the room and peered into the attic. There were dozens of cardboard boxes stored here and there, most of them unmarked, all of them showing signs of years of wear and neglect. He glanced over his shoulder and down to where Sheryl stood at the foot of the rattletrap steps.

“You moved all these boxes up here by yourself?”

She shrugged and smiled.

In spite of the fact that she didn’t look strong enough to handle the task on her own, he wasn’t really surprised. Moving all these boxes from the clinic to this attic had been a tough job, but Sheryl Eldanis had energy. Not a too-much-caffeine kind of energy, but a real, pure strength and quiet enthusiasm. He didn’t imagine she’d ever considered a chore and wondered whether she could handle it. Besides, when he’d lifted her onto the mare he’d discovered that, petite or not, she had muscles. Even though his reason for being here was an important one, the man in him couldn’t help but wonder what she’d look like in something other than those baggy clothes. Or even better, in nothing at all.

He stepped into the center of the attic and turned around slowly. It was an ordinary enough attic, with bare wood floors and exposed beams and two windows that looked down on the front yard. The ceiling was high enough for him to stand here in the middle of the space, but if he moved more than a step or two to the side he’d have to duck.

And like most other attics, it was full of junk. Along with a broken lamp, a rusty birdcage and a rocking chair that had to be older than the house, there were newer boxes mixed in with the older ones he was interested in, most of them labeled with black marker. Kitchen. Bedroom. Linens. Winter clothes. Sheryl’s own things stored with the rest. Unlike her boxes, the ones he needed to search weren’t marked at all. Where to start?

Sheryl didn’t join him, but she climbed up the stairs to peer through the square opening in the attic floor. “If you need help, I can come back after I get the animals fed.”

“No,” he said, his eyes on one particularly nasty-looking stack of mildewy boxes. “I can’t even tell you what I’m looking for. I guess I’d better just dig in and see what I can find.” He grabbed a box at random and set it on the floor, then knelt down to open it. It smelled of musty old paper, and while there were a few file folders in the box, most of the paperwork was loose and completely unorganized.

“Okay.” Sheryl backed away slowly. “Holler if you need anything.” And then she was off to feed her animals. From what little he’d seen as he’d walked in through the kitchen and to the stairway, she had a few. Cats, dogs, a colorful parrot that had called him “meathead” as he’d walked past the living room downstairs.

Hawk had learned to tune down his abilities when he needed to, and he did that now. He adjusted the part of his brain that could see and feel and hear things others couldn’t even imagine and concentrated on the papers before him.

Somewhere in here was information that could help Cassie. The woman in the pharmacy hadn’t sent him on a wild-goose chase. What they needed had to be in one of these boxes; he couldn’t entertain any other possibility.

A fertility clinic. Even though he had never expected to find such a place in his background, he shouldn’t be surprised. All his life he’d wondered about his parents. Who were they? Why had they given their twins away? When he’d discovered his gift with animals he’d wondered if they’d known. Was that the reason they’d given him up? Now there were Cassie’s flashes of precognition to take into account. But how could their parents have known when they looked at their infant twins that they’d be different?

He hadn’t given his biological parents much thought in the past few years. In adolescence he had almost become obsessed with them, but eventually he’d decided to put them, and their reasons for giving him up, out of his mind. If his parents hadn’t wanted him, then why the hell should he care who they were and what they were like? It was easier to put them out of his mind than it was to wonder all the damn time. Cassie’s seizures had fired up his curiosity all over again.

Hawk took his time with the task before him, carefully studying each sheet of paper. Most of what he scanned didn’t make any sense to him. Chemistry had never been his best subject in school, and this… A lot of what he discovered were formulas and medical data. Much of what he found in the manila folders was private information, women’s medical files. He felt strange, perusing such personal information. But he couldn’t set aside the papers without checking each one. Notes were scribbled in the margins here and there. Names that meant nothing to him appeared more than once. He tried to drink it all in, just in case a name or a date came to mean something to him later.

Hawk tossed one useless folder aside and grabbed another. Maybe Cassie was right and he should’ve hired this chore out. He didn’t know what he was looking for, and besides, he didn’t spend his time at home sitting in a cramped room going through papers. He practically lived outdoors. He needed fresh air in his lungs, sunshine and moonlight on his face.

But this was not a job he was willing to hand over to anyone else, no matter what the cost might be. His secrets, and Cassie’s secrets, wouldn’t be safe with anyone else.

Not even an unusually pretty vet.



“You stink.”

Sheryl added water to Bruce’s dish. “Can’t you say ‘Polly want a cracker’ like a normal bird?”

“Bite me.”

Normally finding a home for a beautiful talking bird wasn’t a problem, but Bruce had been trained in a home where his primary teacher had been a teenage boy who thought it was funny to train the colorful parrot to insult everyone who passed by. “You stink” and “bite me” were actually not too bad, considering Bruce’s repertoire.

Sheryl’s mind was elsewhere as she fed the other animals. Two dogs, three cats and a bird. Some of them she’d brought to Wyatt with her; others she’d collected since her arrival in town. They’d all taken to the new house well, settling in as if they’d always lived here. She had a variety of animal beds here and there, and there was a small doggie door in the kitchen that allowed the animals to go into the fenced backyard at any time.

The pets she had accumulated over the years were her family. They loved without question or demand, and it was nice to have them waiting for her when she came in the door after a long day. They needed her; she needed them. And yes, they were her family. Like most families they were a bit dysfunctional. Bruce was temperamental and was given to bad language. Bogie was the shy ugly duckling, and Howie could be aggressive on occasion, like all Chihuahuas. There were times when Smoky and Princess tormented the dogs, as cats often do, but the situation never got out of control.

Laverne was independent and thought herself better than all the pets who had come after her, which was why she usually went to work with Sheryl. It was just safer that way.

The other animals in Sheryl’s house were suspicious of Baby at first, but once they’d all sniffed one another properly, they got along just fine. Besides, the big yellow dog had the Laverne seal of approval, and the others all knew that didn’t come easily.

Considering the way animals took to Donovan, Sheryl was a little surprised that they didn’t all climb the rickety stairs to stand watch while he pored through the files. But they didn’t. The animals left him alone.

So did she, even though she was dying to go up there and jump into that nasty chore with him. There was something desperate and touching about his need to find this information about his mother, and she wanted to do what she could. Sympathy: it was her downfall. It was the reason she had three temperamental cats, two ugly dogs and a personality-challenged bird no one else wanted. The last thing she needed to do was add a surly man to her menagerie.

Dinner at the hotel restaurant had been pleasant enough, even though she’d done most of the talking. Donovan had paid attention, especially when she’d spoken about her practice. His love for animals was genuine and deep. If they had nothing else in common, they had that. But there was a definite wall, a barricade so tangible she could almost count the bricks. She just didn’t have the time, or the heart, to try to break through that wall.

Besides, Donovan would be gone as soon as he found whatever he was looking for in her attic. He might thank her, and he might even mean it, but once he had what he’d come here for, he’d go home to Texas and she’d never see him again. So it would be foolish to get interested.

She’d been foolish before, and it was no fun.

When he’d been up there for more than three hours, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She made a large glass of iced tea and carried it up the stairs. All the kiddies—her animals—were sleeping. Even Baby. She needed to get to sleep herself. Tomorrow would be an early day, as every day had been since opening her practice. Besides, her animals wouldn’t let her sleep late, even on Sundays. The cats might let her lie in bed past six on occasion, but the dogs were relentlessly cheerful in the morning, and they wanted everyone to rise with the sun.

Donovan was startled to see her when she popped into the attic. The strain of sorting through the mess was showing on him already. His eyes looked tired, and he’d run his fingers through his dark hair more than once, probably in sheer frustration. The heavy stubble on his cheeks indicated that it had been a long day.

He looked much too tempting, sitting there. Sheryl wanted to do more than bring him tea. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, lay her hands on those broad shoulders, tell him everything was going to be all right, even though she had no idea if anything would ever be right again.

At some time during the evening he’d set a couple of boxes to one side. He’d probably been through those already. A few pages that had caught his interest had been set aside. It was a dismally short stack.

When she offered him the tea, he stood and stretched out a few muscles before taking the cold glass. Hmm. Donovan looked as if he’d just climbed out of bed in the morning and was working the kinks out of that incredibly fit body. Even when he stretched and turned, there was a sleekness about him, a masculine grace.

If he moved this way when he was working out the kinks in his muscles, then what might he be like when he—

Oh, dear. Her mind simply could not go there.

“I guess you want me to get out of here,” he said, casting one glance into the box he was currently sorting through. “I know it’s getting late.”

Yeah, she was such a sucker. Hawk Donovan was not the kind of man anyone took pity on. Ever. Was that almost-desperate expression a put-on? Did he know that no red-blooded female could say no to a face like that?

“You can stay awhile longer if you want,” she said softly. “I’m going on to bed. Lock up when you leave.”

He nodded, obviously grateful that she wasn’t going to kick him out, and then he took a long swig of the tea. He drained the glass quickly, then returned to his knees to continue sorting through the box in the center of the attic floor.

Sheryl watched Donovan as she carefully moved down the steps. He was already intent on the contents of that box again, as if she’d never been here, as if he had never been interrupted.

She hadn’t even offered to ship the documents to Texas and let him go through them there, at his leisure, away from her house and out of her hair. That would have made perfect sense. The files would be out of her possession and no longer her concern, and Hawk Donovan would be out of her life for good. The man was definitely trouble—even if he was on the up-and-up. Especially if he was on the up-and-up! Her life was settled now; it made sense. The last thing she needed was trouble.



Hawk woke up to a familiar sound and sensation. Baby was licking his face and saying good morning with a growl and a whine. But this morning Baby was not alone. Laverne was curled up on his stomach, and two other cats—one black and the other calico—had burrowed into the crook of his elbow. A Chihuahua who thought he was a rottweiler stood on Hawk’s chest, staring at his face and waiting for a response, and another dog—a black-and-white mixed breed with the homeliest face Hawk had ever seen—panted close by.

Hawk lifted his head from the attic floor, and the animals all perked up considerably. Even Laverne, who refused to be disturbed from her perch on his stomach, seemed to smile.

It was nothing compared to the smile he got from the woman standing above him.

“Coffee,” she said.

She was dressed for the day in sensible trousers and a cotton blouse that should have been plain but somehow looked sexy. Like the smile, and the way she pulled her hair away from her face, and the way her fingers wrapped around the white mug she carried.

Hawk closed his eyes and took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of coffee and old paper and animals. And her. She’d had a shower, and she smelled faintly of shampoo and soap. The soap was scented with a trace of lavender.

“I didn’t intend to stay the night,” he said, ignoring the way Sheryl smelled. He moved Howie from his chest and Laverne from his gut and sat, then stood slowly. When he reached out for the coffee cup Sheryl offered, her smile faded. Just a little. “I decided to rest my eyes for a few minutes and—”

“I know that feeling,” she interrupted. “It usually hits me when I’m trying to watch TV, even though I’m too tired, and I decide to close my eyes during the commercial. The next thing I know it’s three in the morning and I wake up to find that I’ve missed the end of my movie and some cheesy infomercial is on.” Her voice was too bright, too quick, as if she were trying to hide the fact that she was uncomfortable. Of course she was uncomfortable. He’d been here all night, sleeping above her head.

“Yeah.” He took a long sip of coffee and glanced down at the box he’d been going through when he’d decided to take a break. This chore was taking much too long, but an extended break was not an option. This was too important, and he didn’t have a day to waste. Not an hour or even a minute. A good night’s sleep was a luxury he could do without for a while. “I know you have to work, but if you don’t mind I’m going to—”

“I do mind,” she said sharply.

He was disappointed, but not surprised. It was more than he’d expected that she’d allowed him to spend all night up here, though that hadn’t been his intention. Or hers. Of course she wasn’t going to trust him to stay here in her house while she was at work.

She shook her head as if she could read his mind. “You’re exhausted. You spent way too much time going through those files last night, and I can tell just by looking at you that even if you came upon something important this morning you wouldn’t see it. Go back to the hotel, get a shower and a few more hours of sleep, and after lunch you can start again.” To his surprise, she handed him a single key on a simple key chain.

“Don’t look so shocked,” she said with a smile. “I don’t have anything worth stealing, unless you want to take Bruce with you when you go.”

“Bruce?”

“The parrot who called you meathead last night. Trust me, it could have been worse.”

Hawk wanted to argue with her, but like it or not she made a lot of sense. He probably needed to go through that last box all over again, just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything thanks to sheer exhaustion.





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