“Not that I saw, but there’s been a lot of teasing going on. She might have.”

“He could have an infection, or the testicle could be twisted.” Gard didn’t feel the stone-hard sign of impending testicular necrosis usually present with a torsion, though. “I’ll start him on some antibiotics. Try to keep him quiet and if he’s not better by tonight, we’ll ultrasound him.”

“God, Gard. If I lose his stud fees, I’ll be out half my income.”

“I know.” Gard straightened and squeezed Katie’s shoulder sympathetically. The young horsewoman was a regular on Gard’s route—hardworking, bright, and a respected breeder. Still, the life of a rancher was hard, physically and emotionally, and Gard hated to see her in trouble. “Try not to worry. I’m being aggressive because I want to be sure he keeps performing for you.”

“Thanks,” Katie said, relief evident in the softening of her smile.

Gard hefted her kit and stole a peek at her watch. Only eight. Jenna was probably still asleep. Hopefully one of them had gotten some rest. She sure hadn’t, not just because she’d had less than four hours before the alarm went off, but because she kept replaying various moments with Jenna. Jenna intrigued her. She was strong and vulnerable, soft and sexy. Her stubborn insistence on doing everything without help, the snap of temper making her green eyes sparkle, the exhaustion she refused to give in to—everything about Jenna stirred her up. She hadn’t ever expected a woman to do that to her again.

“Everything okay, Gard?” Katie asked.

“Hmm?”

Katie nodded at Gard’s chest. “You all right?”

Gard flushed, realizing she’d been rubbing the spot in the center of her chest where she still felt the heat of Jenna’s body cradled in her arms. She quickly dropped her hand. “Fine. Let me set up a couple more doses of antibiotics for Windstorm. Call me later with an update, all right?”

“I will. Absolutely.” Katie hesitated, as if she were going to say something else, then blushed and turned away.

Gard stored her equipment and prepared the medication to leave with Katie. She’d read the interest in Katie’s eyes and wanted to avoid any awkwardness. She liked Katie and she didn’t want to complicate their friendship. Yesterday she would have said her lack of interest was just that—sex or romance or just plain pleasure with a woman hadn’t been on her agenda for a very long time. Today she felt differently, and the reason for the change was at home, asleep in her guest room.

Famished and in dire need of caffeine, Jenna grabbed her laptop and went in search of sustenance. The kitchen, a huge room occupying the entire back of the main house, was everything she expected it to be. Although all the appliances were new, they were designed in a traditional country style—a freestanding cast-iron stove with gas burners, a warming drawer, and a big baking oven cozied up to a white enamel refrigerator with chrome handles that could have been transported from the early 1900s. Wood counters topped sage and cream cabinets with inset drawers and glass-paned doors. An oak plank trestle table with benches on either side stood on the natural slate floor in front of an open-hearth brick fireplace that took up the whole wall at one end of the room.

The coffeepot was easy to find. Fortunately, it was a simple electric drip, and the stainless steel canisters lined up in a neat row nearby were precisely labeled Espresso, French Roast, and Decaf. She couldn’t see Gard as a decaf kind of person, not after hearing about how the vet often worked all night, several nights in a row. She’d drunk regular coffee at the diner at two in the morning. No, the decaf was probably for guests. Overnight guests? The thought of someone else coming downstairs, making coffee in the morning after having slept in Gard’s bed, bothered her. Then she remembered that Gard said she didn’t have guests. Maybe she didn’t consider dates in the same category.

“As if who she dates should matter to me,” Jenna muttered, watching the French Roast drip into the pot and willing it to hurry. She searched the cabinets and found a heavy white ceramic mug. Comfortable in her hand, no-frills, solid and dependable. She carried it and her laptop to the table in front of a row of double-hung windows. Like those in her bedroom, these were open, and cotton curtains with pale cream stripes the same color as the cabinets fluttered into the room. Outside, rolling pastures lush with green grass stretched to the foothills of the pine forests.

When the coffee was done she dosed it with milk she found in the refrigerator and went back to the view. A spacious back porch complete with Adirondack chairs and a small table looked inviting, but she resisted the urge to explore. She really ought to work. The new publisher wanted three linked romances with release dates six weeks apart. Romance always sold well, but during prolonged periods of economic stress or global strife, they sold even better. Now readers were looking for comfort, as well as passion and excitement, and the small-town setting was enjoying a resurgence. She could understand why.

Contemporaries, though, were not her usual thing. All the same, she could do it. She’d reinvented herself more than once—on and off the page. She just needed a hook—something—someone—to make hearts flutter. An image of Gard in dusty jeans and a sweat-dampened shirt astride a big bay, her skin golden in the summer sun, instantly came to mind. God, she could be on the cover of one of her books, she was so gorgeous. And damn it if her heart didn’t do a little dance.

“Oh for crying out loud. Time to get a grip.” Jenna turned away from the entrancing view and her distracting daydreams and sat down at her computer. Taking a sip of her cooling coffee, she stepped into her past and started to type.

She had no trouble conjuring both the appeal and the stifling familiarity of a tight-knit community, where everyone knew your secrets but pretended they didn’t. The people in line at the drugstore knew your name, and if you were buying condoms or pregnancy tests, they noticed. And talked about it. For the past decade, the last thing she’d wanted to think about was small-town living, where corruption existed side by side with friendship and fierce loyalty. Now she thought about the girl she’d been, and the woman she had become, and how things might have been different then if she hadn’t been so alone.

The crunch of gravel beneath car tires disrupted the soothing backdrop of birdsong and rustling leaves as effectively as a ringing telephone or doorbell. Gard was back. Jenna automatically clicked Save, anticipatory excitement stirring. Standing, she glanced at the clock above the refrigerator, surprised to find she’d been working for over three hours. 11:15 a.m. Hadn’t Gard said she’d be back around noon?

She should probably pack. She’d meant to do that earlier and then gotten sidetracked by sudden inspiration. Gard probably didn’t have much time and would want to take her to the motel, glad to dispense with her responsibilities and her unexpected houseguest. For just a minute, Jenna was sorry to be leaving. She understood now why Gard had likened the house to a woman. She felt not just welcomed by the beautiful old house, but embraced amidst the sunshine and the burgeoning earth and the trill of birds. She laughed wistfully—she’d never actually experienced such communion with a lover and wondered if Gard had. She imagined Gard waking up in the arms of a woman on a lazy summer day, sated and peaceful, surrounded by all this splendor, and a twinge of jealousy shot a red flag straight into the heart of her musings.

She snapped her laptop closed, as if that could banish her dangerous thoughts. “Definitely time to go.”

Chapter Ten

A knock sounded at the front door and Jenna wondered if she should answer. Obviously whoever had arrived wasn’t Gard. Well, why not answer? She had several perfectly good reasons for being in Gard’s house—even if the thoughts she’d been entertaining about her host the last few minutes had been anything but businesslike.

“Hi, can I help you?” she asked when she pulled open the door.

A woman in a khaki sheriff’s uniform stood on the porch, her legs slightly spread, her hands on her hips. She didn’t say anything as she took her time assessing Jenna, her bold dark brows drawn low over wary blue eyes. Jenna was used to being the focus of attention, although this perusal was more intense and unapologetic than the shy glances of her readers. She waited for the woman to speak, and while she did, she made her own survey.

The woman filled out the uniform very, very nicely—the shining Sam Browne belt accentuated the subtle flare of hips and the swell of ample breasts and broad shoulders above a long waist. The sharply creased trousers were not tight, but tailored to fit muscled thighs. She was pretty in an earthy, sensual way. Sultry eyes, full lips, and a wide, generous mouth.

“Is Gard home?” The woman’s voice was resonant and warm, as voluptuous as her body.

“No, but I expect she will be soon,” Jenna said.

The woman extended her hand. Her grip was strong but not challenging.

“Sheriff Rina Gold.”

“Cassandra Hart,” Jenna answered automatically, as she usually did in situations where she didn’t know the individual. She spent most of her life as Cassandra. Her editors, her publicist, and her public all called her Cassandra. Only Alice called her Jenna. Well, Alice and now Gard.

“Cassandra Hart,” the sheriff repeated, sounding surprised. Then she smiled, really smiled, and the heat that had been simmering under the closed gaze flared. “I like your books. In fact, you’re one of my favorite authors.”

Jenna smiled. “Thank you.”

“Might you also be Jenna Hardy?”

“Oh, yes, sorry—I guess I just assumed you’d make the connection. I don’t know why.” Jenna gestured to the house behind her. “I suppose because I’m here. Why else would I be?”

“Well, hell could have frozen over and Gard might have…” Rina grimaced, swept off her wide-brimmed Smokey-style hat, and brushed her forearm over her damp brow. “Never mind. Out of line there.”

She gave Jenna another long look, and the question in her eyes said the sheriff had a bit more than casual interest in Gard. Jenna considered how she must appear to the sheriff—barefoot, her hair a little tangled from her shower, and alone in the house when Gard wasn’t home. She probably looked like more than a casual guest, but she wasn’t about to discuss her relationship with Gard with the sheriff.

“Sorry about the wasted trip,” Jenna said.

“Not at all,” Rina said. “I would have wanted to meet you anyhow. My condolences about Elizabeth. Everyone in town knew and liked her.”

“I wish I’d had a chance to meet her.” Jenna doubted she would have made the effort had she simply discovered the presence of a great-great-aunt under other circumstances, but now she’d been drawn into Elizabeth’s world and she was curious about her. “Do you need me to do anything today? I was going to check in at the hotel—motel—and then make an appointment with the attorney. Is there something I should—”

“No, there’s nothing pressing. The coroner—that being Gard, which I guess you know—will provide you with a death certificate. Sherman Potter, Elizabeth’s attorney, will guide you through the rest of the paperwork. I do need to know what you want to do about securing the house.”

Jenna let the screen door close behind her and settled into one of the rockers on the porch. The sheriff leaned against the white railing opposite her, her arms braced on either side of her hips. The posture accentuated her breasts and Jenna appreciated again how attractive she was. She wondered if the sheriff and Gard had ever dated. Were still dating. Just as quickly, she reminded herself again that Gard’s personal business was none of hers. “I’m sorry. What do you mean, secure the house?”

“I’m sure the crime rate around here isn’t what you’re used to in the city, but we do have our share of vandals. Elizabeth has some pricey farm equipment in the barns, and an empty house is going to be an invitation for someone to break in. If you’re planning on selling, the real estate agent may be able to advise you as to the best way to protect the place. In the meantime, I’ll try to have a car sweep by Birch Hill at least once a night.”

Jenna rubbed a spot between her eyes that had started to twinge. She hadn’t even thought about the house or its contents or what she would do about the property.

“How much property are we talking about?”

Rina shrugged. “The attorney will pull the deeds for you if he doesn’t already have them, but I think Elizabeth’s place runs about a couple hundred acres or so. Used to be a pretty big dairy farm with a few hundred head of Guernseys, but Elizabeth hasn’t done anything on that scale in over twenty years. The house and barns are in pretty good shape. She’s still got a few cows, the stray chicken, an old donkey or two.”