Gard shot her a grin. “You look like you’re used to having an entourage follow you around taking care of your every need.”

“Exactly why would you think that?”

“You just do. Should I have heard of you?”

“You do realize that a question like that could be construed as offensive?”

“Really?” Gard laughed. “How so?”

Jenna stopped walking. “Well, in the first place, you don’t know who I am, which implies that I’m not important enough to be known. Secondly…” She hesitated, her frown deepening. “Actually, I don’t think there is a second place.”

“Are you important enough to be known?” Gard asked.

“Cassandra is, at least some people think so.”

“And what about you?”

They’d reached the deserted lanes outside the airport, and the mountains rose beyond the sparsely lit parking lot, massive and dark against a moonlit sky. Jenna smelled pine, fresh turned earth, and cut grass—country smells. A visceral memory, both pleasure and pain, of all she’d left behind struck her hard and she jumped. “I’m sorry. What?”

Gard slowed, her expression quizzical and concerned. “Are you famous?”

“Not really, although every one of my last seven new releases has made the New York Times top ten list.” Jenna wasn’t sure why she was trying to impress a stranger, and one who wasn’t even all that likable. Maybe being thrown into surroundings so much like those she’d escaped had her off balance, because she certainly didn’t care what this woman thought of her. Maybe it was just the damn headache making a reappearance that had her acting out of character.

“What exactly do you write?”

“Romances.”

“Ah,” Gard said.

“Ah, what?”

“That’s why I don’t know who you are. I don’t read them.” Gard pointed with her chin. “I’m parked over here.”

“What exactly do you read when you’re not reading medical journals?” The parking lot was unpaved, potholed, and muddy. Spotlights hung from telephone poles in no discernible pattern, dotting the lot with thin cones of light that barely reached the uneven ground. Jenna had to step carefully to avoid puddles left by what must have been a recent, heavy downpour. Her shoes were going to be ruined.

“I like mysteries. Puzzles. Things I have to figure out.”

“Have you ever actually read a romance?”

Gard passed into one of the swaths of light, and Jenna saw her frown. “Wuthering Heights in high school. Maybe. Or that might’ve been CliffsNotes.”

Jenna laughed despite her lingering annoyance. “Then you’ve missed a few things. The genre has changed quite a bit in the last hundred years or so.”

Gard stopped beside a dusty black pickup truck. “How so?”

“Well, there’s sex, for one thing.” Jenna leaned forward, squinting to read the logo on the side. “This is yours?”

“Yep.” Gard unlocked and lifted the cap on the back and began stowing the luggage.

“Little Falls Animal Clinic and Surgery?” Jenna asked.

“That’s my place.”

“You’re a vet?” Jenna exclaimed.

“Yup. I never said I was a medical doctor.”

“But you did say you were the coroner when you called,” Jenna said.

“I am.”

“They let a veterinarian be the coroner?”

“Sometimes it’s a funeral director.” Gard chuckled. “I’ve known a couple who were justices of the peace. I think being a vet might actually overqualify me.” After securing the back, Gard skirted around to the passenger side door and opened it for Jenna, who trailed behind. “Need a hand getting up in here?”

“I think I can manage,” Jenna said icily. She’d no sooner said the words than she stepped into a water-filled rut a good foot deep, lost her balance, and pitched forward. “Oh!”

“Hey!” Gard jumped forward and caught Jenna before she could hit the ground. She swept Jenna up and into her arms. “Are you all right?”

Jenna automatically entwined her arms around Gard’s neck, her face almost brushing Gard’s cheek. Her knee screamed but the pain was clouded by the scent of sweet clover, something she hadn’t smelled in over a decade and hadn’t realized she missed. Her breasts pressed against Gard’s chest, and when her nipples tightened, she pulled away. “Put me down.”

“Sure thing,” Gard said, amazed at how light Jenna felt in her arms. Her vet work kept her strong and she could lift as much weight as most men her size, but this woman seemed to be sketched out of the air and as fragile as a wisp of cloud. When she set her down on the ground, Jenna gasped and leaned heavily against her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jenna straightened, her features tightening as she clenched her jaws.

“Bullshit. Twist your ankle?”

“My knee,” Jenna said through her teeth.

“Okay then.” Gard bent slightly, slid an arm behind Jenna’s shoulders and the other behind her knees, and picked her up again. “Watch your head.”

Jenna ducked as Gard eased her into the front seat. “Thank you. I’m fine.”

Gard closed the door, circled the front of the truck, and climbed behind the wheel. She started the engine and then shifted in the seat to face her passenger. “There’s a hospital between here and Little Falls. We can stop and have you looked at.”

“I’m fine,” Jenna snapped. “I started the day in the hospital, I’m not going to end in one.”

“What happened this morning?”

“Nothing. Please, can we just go?”

“Absolutely. You’re the boss.” Gard shifted into gear and drove out of the lot.

After a few moments of silence, Jenna said, “I apologize for my bad manners. You’ve been very helpful all day.”

“No need to apologize.” Gard gripped the wheel more tightly. Her prejudices were affecting her in ways they hadn’t for years. “I should apologize. You’ve done nothing to warrant my mood. It sounds like it’s been a long day for both of us. Why don’t we just leave it at that.”

“Fair enough.” Jenna leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I don’t suppose the hotel has room service?”

Gard laughed. “It’s the middle of the night. There probably won’t even be anyone at the desk. If you’re still hungry when we get to the clinic, there’s an all-night diner at the edge of town. Jackie makes the best home fries in two states.”

Jenna’s eyes snapped open. “What clinic?”

“My clinic.”

“What are you talking about?”

Gard shot her a quick glance then focused on the road. “I want to take a look at your knee.”

“You’re a vet!”

“Knees are all pretty much the same.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I won’t take you for an early breakfast.” Gard turned on the radio to an oldies station and turned it down low. “Besides, I’m driving, so you don’t have much choice.”

Jenna swallowed a sharp retort and turned away to stare out the window. What an arrogant, overbearing pain in the ass. She would’ve argued more, but her knee throbbed and if Gard hadn’t caught her she might have fallen. Once in a day was enough for that.

“We’ve got about a forty-five-minute drive,” Gard said. “I don’t mind if you snooze on the way.”

“I’m not tired,” Jenna said, but as the darkness closed in around them, and the old familiar music played in the background, she closed her eyes and drifted on memories of sweet clover, country lanes, and summer nights filled with youthful dreams.

Chapter Six

Gard pulled into the empty gravel lot beside her sprawling clinic on the outskirts of Little Falls, turned off the motor, and studied her passenger. Jenna still slept, her head tilted against the window, her face partially illuminated by silver starlight. The otherworldly glow accentuated the contours of her face and smoothed away the lines of fatigue Gard had seen earlier, giving her the look of a delicately carved ivory statue. She’d been surprised when Jenna had fallen asleep—she seemed too tightly wound to relax so completely with a stranger. But then she’d heard the quiet moans cutting through the low murmur of the radio as she’d driven through the night. Jenna was either having a very bad dream or was in considerable pain. Judging from how she’d looked when she’d arrived at the airport—drawn and exhausted—along with her earlier comment about having started the day in the hospital, Gard suspected she wasn’t well. Although Jenna had put on a good show of being totally in command, right now she appeared not only defenseless, but vulnerable.

A surge of protectiveness, coupled with an intense desire to ease Jenna’s discomfort, put Gard on instant alert. The reaction was foreign, primitive, and one she was quite sure she’d never experienced toward any other human being. Uneasy with the unwelcome urges, she chalked her mood up to the lateness of the hour and the hypnotic pull of the waxing gibbous moon overhead. Everything seemed slightly unreal awash in the moonlight, including her own feelings.

“Ms. Hardy?” Gard said quietly, carefully pressing her fingertips to the sleeping woman’s shoulder.

Jenna jolted upright with a gasp and jerked away from Gard’s touch, her expression a mixture of apprehension and combativeness. “What? Where are we?”

“I’m sorry,” Gard said quickly, aware that Jenna was not just startled, but threatened. Someone had frightened her in the night, in the dark, before, and the knowledge settled in the pit of her stomach like a hot, hard stone. “You’re in my truck. At my clinic. You fell asleep.”

Jenna slowly drew air in through her nose, visibly calming herself. She was strong, and admirably self-sufficient. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to fall asleep. My apologies.”

“None needed. How’s your leg?”

Tentatively, Jenna extended her knee and winced. “Stiff, but moving.”

“I’ll come around and help you out.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary, Dr. Davis.”

“Gard. Call me Gard.”

“Then it’s Jenna to you.”

“All right. Jenna. I’ll come around and help you out.”

Jenna folded her arms over her middle and glared at Gard. “Are you always this overbearingly authoritative?”

Gard grinned. “Usually just with the horses. You’re a special case.”

Jenna refused to smile, but she wanted to. God, the woman was infuriating, but on her, even arrogance was attractive. “I can walk.”

“Let’s find out.”

Gard jumped down from the truck, shoved her keys into the front pocket of her khakis, and hurried around to the passenger side of the truck, not trusting Jenna to wait. The woman was independent to a fault, and Gard didn’t want her to hurt herself just to prove that she didn’t need any help. Besides, she wanted an excuse to lift her out of the truck. And she did not want to think very long about why she hungered to hold Jenna in her arms again. After pulling open the cab door, she reached inside and slid one arm under Jenna’s knees and the other around her shoulders. “Hold on.”

“You really ought to ask permission first.” Just the same, Jenna threaded her arms around Gard’s neck and let herself be lifted from the cab. She tried to keep some distance between their bodies, but that proved difficult when Gard tightened her hold and pulled her against her chest. The muscles in Gard’s arms bunched against the backs of Jenna’s thighs and along her shoulders in an unconscious display of strength that was tantalizing and, damn it, arousing. She wasn’t usually so quick to respond physically to a casual touch from a woman. Her body was not her own today—her reactions seemed to belong to someone else. She hated being out of control this way, but the pleasure of being cradled in the arms of a woman who looked and smelled as good as Gard did was way beyond her ability to ignore, so she might as well enjoy the tingling in her breasts and other places. Secretly. The last thing she wanted was Gard Davis knowing she was turned on by such innocent contact with her. “Don’t hurt your back.”

“Hmm?” Gard asked absently, having caught a hint of dahlias and spice, reminding her of hot summer mornings before the dew burned off. But it wasn’t morning, and the dahlias hadn’t bloomed. “Is that you?”

“What?”

“That…” Gard caught herself trying to catch another hint of the alluring scent and mentally cursed. What the hell was she doing? She never got lost in a woman this way. “Never mind.”

“Maybe you should put me down. I think you’re shaking.”

“I’m not going to drop you.” Gard laughed. “Besides, this is nothing compared to a traction delivery or examining a cow’s hoof when she’s leaning on you.”

“I’m so glad I’m easier than the patients you usually have to deal with,” Jenna said with a bit of temper. “You know, being compared to a barnyard animal isn’t exactly flattering.”

“I guess my social patter needs a little work,” Gard said dryly. “Hold on to me while I let you down. I want you to put most of your weight on me until you test your knee. Don’t try to be a hero.”