Healing Hearts Read online

  As she struggled to pedal away, he wondered if he should have mentioned how big the puppy would be when he grew older. Probably not. Sarah didn’t look like she needed any more surprises right now.

  He turned and walked back to his office to catch up on some paperwork but couldn’t keep his mind on the task. The vision of a certain blonde kept intruding. The same blonde who’d officially become part of the team until her debt was paid off.

  Sarah. Another worker he couldn’t really afford. He sighed. Looked like he’d done it again. He’d picked up another stray—a two-legged kind this time. When Gillian found out, she’d kill him.

  Chapter Two

  Sarah struggled to hold on to her newfound pet that evening. She’d named him Rocky, after the man of her dreams—Rocky Balboa. Strong, dedicated, a fighter. He never gave up when he was down and neither would she, even if she was soaking wet from head to toe.

  Obviously, Rocky didn’t like baths, and at this moment, Sarah didn’t either. She reached up and pulled a wet strand of hair out of her eyes, glad she’d shut the bathroom door before she’d started. If she hadn’t, Rocky would have run through her tiny apartment, leaving a trail of water behind him. He’d already jumped out of the tub three times, and what water he hadn’t splashed out with each bounce, he’d shaken all over her and the pale, beige walls.

  The picture on the bottle of shampoo was a lie. The smiling dog siting calmly in the blue tub had to be a fake, or drugged beyond belief. Maybe she should have asked Dr. Morrison if doggie Valium existed, but then again, she’d had no idea how hard a simple bath could be.

  She lunged at Rocky again, determined to get him in the tub if it killed her. Her beloved little monster still stunk to high heaven and there was no way she’d let him run loose until she washed off every speck of dirt from his cold, damp nose, to the tip of his golden tail. He skittered around the small room and settled behind the toilet.

  “Come here, Rocky, sweetie.” She crawled toward him. “I won’t hurt you, honest.” Rocky stared at her, panting, his tail thumping against the white, peeling linoleum.

  “Okay then, if begging won’t do it, maybe a treat will.” She reached over and grabbed a liver snack out of the bag she’d added at the last minute to her grocery cart, instead of that bottle of nail polish she’d been coveting.

  Sarah dangled what she supposed was some tasty little treat—that’s what the label said but now she knew labels lied—in front of Rocky’s face. He licked his chops and stared at her, but he didn’t move.

  “C’mon, boy. Look what I’ve got.” She inched the morsel closer to his nose, praying he’d take it. He looked at her with brown, sad eyes…and stayed where he was. “C’mon, Rocky. I can’t have you smelling up my place.”

  She continued to dangle the liver treat in front of him. “Please? You can sleep with me tonight if you’ll just take a silly little bath.”

  The dog squirmed out of his hiding place and grabbed the treat from her hand. The doorbell rang just as she’d managed to grab hold of Rocky’s slick hair. Surprised, her grip relaxed just enough for her dog to wiggle his way out of her grasp and bound back out of reach.

  “Darn it, this’d better be good, Lorraine.” She flung open the bathroom door, stalked across her living area floor, unlocked the deadbolt and muttered, “What is it now?”

  But the person taking up space in her hallway wasn’t Lorraine.

  “Dr. Morrison?” All six-foot hunk of him. A smile tilted the corners of his mouth, and he’d raised his hand, as if ready to push the doorbell again. Sarah swallowed a groan.

  Bathed in dim light from the hallway of her apartment, he looked good. No, better than good. Fantastic. How had she missed his lip-sided grin and incredible dimples, or the way his dark, way hair and twinkling eyes softened his chiseled features?

  Great! Sarah straightened her shoulders as her heartbeat accelerated. It was amazing what a lab coat could cover. She blushed. A Greek Adonis, clothed in snug jeans and a cream-colored polo shirt filled in her doorway while she stood covered in water and wet dog hair.

  Not that it would matter anyway. Someone with Dr. Morrison’s standards wouldn’t even give a girl from the wrong side of town a second look. Even if she was trying to change that, she knew better than to expect too much from him, or anyone. She could rely only on herself.

  “Hi, Ms. Churchill,” Grant greeted her lightly, not sure how Sarah would feel about him dropping in like this.

  The woman seemed to get control of her surprise but her soft, blue eyes clouded with suspicion. Not that he could blame her since, with the exception of the time in the clinic, they were practically strangers. And strangers didn’t usually appear unannounced on your doorstep.

  He thought quickly. “I was in the neighborhood delivering some medication to a client and wanted to stop by and see if you needed any help with your new friend. I hope you don’t mind?”

  There was no delivery service and he’d gone several miles out of his way—only to check on her progress with the dog, he told himself. Not only was he feeling a bit guilty about pawning the dog off on her this afternoon, but for some unexplained reason, he wanted to see her again and couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

  His words seemed to satisfy her. Her guarded expression dissolved into a neutral one. “No. Not at all, Dr. Morrison. As you can see, we’re getting alone fine.”

  The sarcasm was not lost on him. Grant wondered if he’d made a mistake by sending the dog home with her, but then remembered the look on her face as she hugged the puppy and decided the answer was no.

  “C’mon in.” She backed away from the entrance, holding the door for him. “You didn’t bring any drugs, did you?”

  “Please, call me Grant. Drugs?” So captivated by her face earlier, Grant finally took a good look at Sarah and realized that her purple T-shirt didn’t naturally cling to her, it was wet, outlining the lacy details of her bra underneath. Upon closer inspection, he saw huge water spots on her jeans and drops of water still clung to her curly hair that had been casually pulled back in a ponytail.

  Obviously, she’d been struggling to give Buster a bath and Buster was winning. He could only imagine the clash between them that had resulted in her appearance. Grant couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

  “What’s so funny? She questioned tartly, staring up at him. Her nostrils flared and her lips thinned. She folded her arms under her chest, which only accentuated the fullness of her breasts. Apparently, she wasn’t as waifish as he’d first thought. Not even close. Her oversized outfit this afternoon had hidden some pretty tantalizing curves. His laughter died.

  He rubbed his day’s growth of beard with the back of his hand, trying to think of a plausible explanation. Nothing came to mind and from the sparks flying from her eyes, he figured she wouldn’t quite appreciate the humor of the situation. “I—er—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed at you or your predicament. A dog’s first bath can be rather…traumatic for both parties.

  She looked at him for a few moments, her expression grim, though her anger had subsided—somewhat. He could still see the muscles twitching in her jaw and the rigid stance of her posture. “Ms. Churchill? Should I leave?”

  “No, Dr. Morrison—Grant. Don’t go, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting any visitors. And please, call me Sarah.”

  He liked the way his name rolled off her lips, like a bubbling brook over stones. Soft and inviting, the sound washed over him, relaxing him, yet leaving him breathless and longing for her to repeat his name. The sudden urge to kiss her crossed his mind.

  But he wouldn’t. He was simply here to check on Sarah’s progress with her new pet.

  “Okay, Sarah. How can I help?”

  Her hesitation didn’t surprise him. Nor did the wariness of her tone, but her answer did. “Sure. Any ideas you can give me would be great. We aren’t seeing eye to eye, or hand to paw right now. C’mon.”

  He followed her through her one-room apartment and into a tiny space that qua
lified as a bathroom. Grant realized as soon as he looked inside that it barely accommodated Sarah and the dog she’d rescued today, much less himself.

  Maybe he should offer to wash the dog himself, but doubted Sarah would allow it. That she had a chip on her shoulder about accepting help was an understatement, he’d learned that this afternoon. He was amazed she’d even let him assist her now. Cautiously, he entered the room.

  “Well, I see your first problem.”

  “What?”

  “That.” He pointed to the partially filled tub. As he leaned over to pull the stopper out his shoulder grazed hers. A jolt of energy surged through him. He wondered if he’d electrocute himself if he put his hand in the water. Under his breath he muttered a prayer for strength and pulled the plug. “Don’t put water in the tub, what you’re actually going to do is give him a shower?”

  “A shower? That’s silly. Then why do they call it a bath?”

  The way she wrinkled her nose in confusion amused him again, but he held back his laughter. From what he’d already figured out, Sarah didn’t have much of a sense of humor and now was not the time to try to get her to lighten up. She had access to gallons of water. The last thing he wanted was to get his new polo shirt drenched by a sudden show of her temper. His chest still ached where she’d poked him earlier at the clinic.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” Grant was glad she had the removable kind of showerhead with a hose attached. It would certainly make their job easier. “Good. You remembered to cover his leg,” he said approvingly, looking at the plastic bag taped over the shaved spot where he’d sewn up the dog.

  That she’d listened to him and had taken direction was a good sign they would work well together. Although it was a good thing he’d shown up when he did. If Sarah had managed to get the dog into the water-filled tub, no amount of plastic would have kept the stitches dry.

  “First, you get him into the tub…” Reaching to the puppy hiding behind the toilet, Grant pulled him out by the scruff of his neck. “Come on, big boy, a little water’s not going to hurt you.” He settled him into the tub.

  Sarah stood there amazed as Rocky just sat in the tub, his pink tongue licking Grant’s arm, his tail thumping on the old porcelain bottom. Her wriggling, writhing bundle of fur practically rolled over and played dead for the doctor. The nerve. It had to be a guy thing, she decided, as she watched him pull the hose from the hook.

  “Then you turn the water on…”

  The instant the whine of water came through the pipes, Rocky flew from the tub and skidded to a stop by Sarah’s legs. At least he hadn’t ducked behind the toilet again. She scooped him up and hugged him tight.

  Letting her guard down, she smiled at Grant. She’d never met anyone like him. His apparent concern for her and Rocky left Sarah at odds with her perception of others. It also helped that his sheepish grin, as he leaned against the tub, made him appear more human, more approachable. “So about those drugs?”

  Grant’s laughter joined hers as she set Rocky back into the tub. Two grown adults couldn’t bathe one twenty-pound pup. She’d had so little to laugh about over the years, to open up now felt strange, in a good way, but she didn’t dare dwell on it.

  “Now listen here, you brute,” Sarah murmured, stroking the puppy’s head. “You’re going to get a bath whether you like it or not, so just cooperate a little.”

  Her heart melted at the sight of Rocky’s sad, brown eyes, and she gave him a quick kiss on his nose. “Remember what I promised you.” She held the unhappy dog in the tub as the doctor wet him down, then lathered him with shampoo.”

  “Okay, fella. This isn’t so bad now, is it?” Grant’s large fingers continued to gently massage the shampoo into Rocky’s hair.

  Sarah watched, suddenly feeling a sense of discomfort. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his hands. What would it feel like to have him massage and comfort her? Choking on the thought, Sarah drew back. What was wrong with her? She didn’t need anyone else to feel secure. She had herself—and Rocky. That was enough.

  Without warning, water and soapsuds hit her in the face. Her dog had decided to end his bath. Momentarily stunned, Sarah released her hold and Rocky shot out of the tub and skittered behind the toilet again.

  “What do we do now?”

  “We try again of course…in a minute.” Grant gave her another grin as water dripped down his cheek and soapsuds clung to the tip of his nose.

  Sarah reached behind her, grabbed a towel from the rod and dried herself. “Here.”

  After handing the faded blue material to him, she watched as he dabbed the moisture from his forehead, his face, the strong column of his neck. Her heart skittered a beat at the seemingly innocent, yet intimate gesture. She inhaled sharply. His tangy masculine scent, mingled with the sweet herbal essence of shampoo and the not- so-pleasant odor of wet dog fur assaulted her senses. An intense longing blindsided her as attraction sizzled in the air around him.

  She wanted this man in her life, and that scared her to death. The last time she’d wanted anything this bad, her world had crashed down around her shoulders. She’d been a child then, now she was an adult. She wouldn’t let that happen again.

  The bathroom closed in on her. Sarah looked wildly around. She had to leave, to break this feeling. “Could you finish up? I’ll get us some drinks.”

  She escaped the confines of the bathroom and ran to a more neutral area.

  Still puzzled at Sarah’s hasty departure, Grant and his newest friend emerged five minutes later. He’d finally managed to convince the dog that taking a bath was his only choice. Too bad Grant had to join him in the tub to prove his point. So much for his new shirt.

  As he’d washed the dog, he’d tried to wash away the effect Sarah had on him. Her simple smile and her soft laughter when her defenses waivered sent intricate waves of desire through him. The feelings crashed over him, leaving him struggling to catch his breath, as they did now. Sarah’s shirt still clung to her curvy body. He accepted the glass of iced tea and drank it down in one smooth gulp. His thirst had nothing to do with the energy he’d expended washing the dog.

  “Thanks for the drink. I’d better get going. Long day tomorrow.” Grant set his glass down on the table as a dead quiet sliced through the apartment.

  He could have kicked himself for saying those three words, but he hadn’t meant them quite as they sounded. It would be a long day because he’d been kidding himself that he was just interested in the dog. But as his employee, he couldn’t—no, make that wouldn’t—do anything about it.

  “Yes, a long day tomorrow,” Sarah spoke stiffly.

  He sensed her complete withdrawal, even though she stood not more than three feet away. “Sarah, it’s not—I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

  “That’s okay, Dr. Morrison. I understand. See you tomorrow.”

  Growing up with mostly women, Grant knew when it was time to make a hasty retreat, and now was one of them. As he strode out the door, he almost tripped over the crate and paper sack he’d left in the hallway. “Here. I almost forgot.”

  “What’s that?” She eyed the package with suspicion.

  “It’s something for Buster. Come here, boy. Look what I’ve got for you.” The clean dog scampered to him and sat down. Grant leaned down and stroked the soft fur.

  “Rocky. His name’s Rocky and he doesn’t need anything.” Her defensiveness didn’t surprise him, but the fists at her sides and the haunting expression on her face did. What was wrong with a little gift?

  “No, I suppose he doesn’t need it, but it would look great on him. Better than the temporary ones I gave you at the clinic.” Grant sighed and pulled out the royal blue collar and leash.

  He should have known after her reaction to the bill this afternoon that she wouldn’t accept anything from him. “If you’re uncomfortable with my giving these to you, I can add them onto your tab. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  But it did.

  Gillian was
waiting for him when he returned home. “What’s this I hear about a new employee?” She paced the floor in his study.

  Grant followed her movements around the cramped space. Gillian’s agitation didn’t surprise him. Tired from the day’s events, he stretched his arms over his head and stifled a yawn. “Everyone’s been after me to take it easier. What’s wrong with getting more help?”

  His sister paused by the desk. “I’m not against you getting more help, as long as that’s all it is, but in this case, I’m not sure.”

  “You’re misjudging the whole situation.”

  “Am I? I know you, Grant. But we’re talking about a woman this time, not a pet. You can’t just clean her up, give her a few shots and find a good home for her when you’re finished like you’ve done with the rest of your strays. She’s got feelings.”

  “And I’ve got feelings, too. It’s who I am, whether it’s a person or pet that needs help.” Scooting his chair back, Grant stood and banged his open palms on the desk, ready to fight with anyone—even his twin sister—in order to help Sarah. “When you get back from LA, come meet her. You’ll understand.”

  Chapter Three

  Sarah awoke with a jolt as Rocky pressed his cold, wet nose against her face. Glancing at the clock, she groaned—two in the morning. “Go away, Rocky, I’m sleeping.” She turned and flopped the pillow over her head. Rocky circled the bed a few times before plopping down beside her with a big sigh. As he nuzzled his snout underneath her arm, a warm, cozy feeling erupted in her. Sarah reached out and stroked his soft fur. “I think I love you, Rocky”

  She dozed back to sleep only to awaken minutes before the alarm sounded to the worst smell she’d ever encountered. A cross between rotten eggs and dirty diapers, the aroma assaulted her nostrils. Struggling to sit up because Rocky had his head lying across her chest, she managed to push him aside and get to her feet.