Venus in Blue Jeans (26 page)

“My dad loaned me a sizeable chunk of cash as an initial payment for the clinic partnership. I’m likely to be paying it all off for the foreseeable future, along with my student loans, unless I win the lottery.” Cal flopped a bunch of scallions onto the board. “Or marry Paris Hilton.”

Docia stared at him, eyes widening.

“Not that I’m likely to do that,” Cal added quickly, “given my low tolerance for anorexic blondes with limited vocabularies.” He tossed a handful of scallions into the oil.

Docia gave him a slightly guarded smile, wispy curls floating around her cheeks. Another quick shot of heat hit his groin.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to pry into your family. Lord knows, my family is no prize when it comes to honoring my decisions. I’m still getting flack for moving up here.” She paused for a moment, staring down at the carrots she was chopping. “That and some other stuff.”

“Nothing to be sorry for—it’s not a big dark secret.” Cal took a deep breath. “I’m glad I came down here. Sooner or later I figure the rest of the family will come down to check it out, and then they’ll be okay with it.”

Docia raised an eyebrow. “Your father didn’t look over the clinic before he gave you the money?”

“He figured I knew what I was doing.” Cal crushed a garlic clove with his knife. “I had Lars check the deal over, too, since he’s an accountant. He said it was a good investment. Even if it does mean I’m sort of an indentured servant to Horace for a few years. I can think of a lot worse people to be indentured to.”

Docia moved to the counter beside him, dumping her carrots into the mix. Cal picked up a bell pepper and began to slice. The smell of hot peanut oil and garlic began to spread through the kitchen.

“Why did you become a vet?” Docia kept her eyes on the cutting board.

“I guess because I always wanted to be one.” He found a bag of washed spinach in the refrigerator and added a couple of handfuls to the pile of vegetables, then dumped them into the wok to sizzle in the hot oil. “We lived out on the edge of town with cats and dogs and the occasional injured bird. I did a lot of patching them up. What about you?”

Docia suddenly looked wary. “What about me?”

“How did you get into the bookstore business?”

“Double major at SMU— marketing and history. Somehow books were just a logical next step.”

Cal dug around in the pantry for soy sauce. “How’d your folks feel about it?”

Docia looked away. “How did yours feel about you being a vet?”

Cal watched her, trying to see her expression. “My dad thought I’d love it. My mom thought I’d never make any money. They were both right. Now you.”

Docia reached for a scallion. “They don’t seem to have any trouble with it, now that I’ve made the move and settled in. Except my dad is annoyed that I didn’t ask him for help with getting the store set up. Since he’s in real estate.”

Cal dumped a couple more handfuls of vegetables into the wok. “What about your mom?”

“Mama doesn’t do business much. She’s more into clubs.” Docia apparently found chopping the scallion fascinating. At any rate, she didn’t look at him.

Cal raised an eyebrow. “Clubs? You mean like nightclubs?”

Docia chuckled. “No. Charities. You know—Junior League, that kind of thing.”

“Sounds like you’ve got more social connections than the Toleffsons.” Cal turned down the burner.

Docia put down her knife and turned to look at him finally. He could see the copper flecks deep in the green of her eyes. “That’s my parents, not me. I live in Konigsburg and I run a bookstore.”

Cal tossed the vegetables and oil with his wooden spoon, then sprinkled on soy sauce and rice vinegar. “Why do I have the feeling there’s more to it than that?”

“There probably is, but it’s nothing important.” Docia pointed to the wok. “Okay, enough about screwed-up families for the evening. Tell me how we’re going to finish up this vegetarian masterpiece.”

Cal lay in bed next to Docia, wondering whether to say anything or not. Lightning still occasionally flashed through the windows, throwing the bed into shadow. Docia’s head was pillowed against his chest, her glorious hair spread against his skin.

They’d made love once, and he wouldn’t mind doing it again later. But right now he was happy just to lie there with her. He felt warm, satisfied, content.

In love.

In love.
Having never been there before, he wasn’t entirely sure he was reading it right. But it was mighty pretty country.

The question was, did he tell Docia?

He could come up with a lot of reasons not to, mostly involved with saving his ass by not putting himself on the line. Plus he came from a long line of people who didn’t believe in talking about feelings. The times when his parents said they loved him had been relatively few, even though he’d never doubted it for a minute. But there was one overwhelming argument in favor of telling Docia how he felt.

He loved the woman. And he wanted her to know it.

He looked down at her. “Hey?”

Docia opened her eyes. Her beautiful emerald and copper eyes. Gemstones and precious metal. Priceless like the rest of her. “What’s up, Calthorpe?”

Right
. Of course deciding he was going to tell her and figuring out
how
he was going to tell her were two different animals.

“I like having you here. With me.”

Docia smiled lazily. “I like being with you too. And I really like your barn.”

“Good.” Cal took a breath, steeling himself for the plunge. “You’re a fantastic woman, you know that?”

Docia rubbed her nose against his chest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Calthorpe.”

“The thing is…” Another deep breath.
Just do it.
“I think I’m in love with you, Docia.”

Docia’s eyes widened. She licked her lips.

Cal felt his shoulders tense. Not exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for.

“I…care for you a lot too, Cal.” She licked her lips again. “This is moving really fast, isn’t it?”

“Too fast for you? I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, Docia.” He lay back on his pillow, trying to ignore the sudden heaviness in his chest. So much for putting his ass on the line.

“No, Cal, don’t.” Docia cupped his face in her hands. “I’m glad you told me. It makes me happy. It’s just…this has been the strangest three days of my life. I’m not exactly operating at full speed right now.”

She dipped her head down, pressing her lips to his, tentatively, as if she wasn’t exactly sure she was welcome. Cal slid his arms around her waist, pushing her back gently, then ran his lips down the slender column of her throat.

“I’m going to shut up, now,” Docia whispered, “before I screw things up. Actions speak louder than words anyway.”

Outside, a clap of thunder rattled the windows. Docia wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.

Cal decided to put the whole thing on hold for now. Actions not only spoke louder, they were a lot more fun.

Docia lay in bed next to Cal that night and tried to figure out just why she hadn’t told him the truth. Why hadn’t she just said it?

She loved him.

She knew she did. She should be happy right now. Insead, she felt miserable and guilty.

But then, it wasn’t the only thing she’d lied about—just the most important. Her father
was
in real estate. Of course, putting it that way was sort of like saying Sam Walton was in retail. And while her mother was a member of the Junior League, she spent more time running the charitable foundation her own father had established forty years ago.

She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told Cal everything—she probably should have. Just like she should have told him exactly how she felt about him.

Turning, she studied him as he slept. His shoulders were broader than his pillow, his skin dusky in the darkened room, his beard a shadow against his chin. The dark pelt of hair on his chest showed black above the sheet. When lightning flickered outside the window, she could see his eyelashes, absurdly thick for a man, like marks of soot against his cheeks.

Making love with him was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Fierce and sweet at the same time. She thought of Cal’s large hand wrapped around Pep’s small body. Secure. Protected. He took care of her in almost the same way. Most men didn’t bother to try.

His hair tangled in curls against the pillow, almost like hers in the morning.

Our kids would have the worst hair ever.

She caught her breath. Dear Lord! Where had
that
come from?

After all, he was a stranger, mostly. A stranger she’d gone to bed with for the last several nights. A stranger who’d helped her through the worst couple of days in her recent memory. A stranger who tasted like honey and salt and something that was essence of Cal. A stranger who loved her.

Panic squeezed her chest.
No, no, no!
Too soon. It was way too soon to feel this way. The last time she’d rushed into something like this she’d ended up getting her heart broken. Saying you loved somebody gave them all kinds of power over you.

But Cal wasn’t Donnie. Was he?

“Unless I win the lottery—or marry Paris Hilton.”
Docia gritted her teeth. It was just a joke.

The rain pelted harder on the windowpanes—another flash of lightning, a roll of thunder, and she thought she heard hail bouncing off the roof.

Docia got up carefully, trying not to wake Cal, and headed toward the ladder to the first floor. Maybe she’d find a magazine or something to read until she felt sleepy.

Pep raised his head to stare at her as she stepped into the living room, but Nico simply turned over, ignoring the interruption.

Docia switched on the lamp next to the coffee table, the one furthest from the loft and least likely to shine in Cal’s eyes. She sorted through a pile of veterinary journals, which would probably put her to sleep but didn’t have much appeal beyond that. A piece of paper lay partly unfolded beside the stack.

Docia stared at the letterhead: BK Enterprises. Her breath was suddenly ragged in her throat. Her father had chosen the name because he thought it sounded long-established—it had been his first business, after all. Billy Kent Enterprises.

Docia unfolded the paper and stared down at the words. A set of specifications. The address was next door to Cal’s clinic. She stared at the purchase price and exhaled hard. Cal and Horace couldn’t afford that, could they? Not unless they got some kind of special deal.

She closed her eyes, hearing the pounding of her pulse over the sound of the rain.

Cal owed Horace money, a lot of money, that he wouldn’t be able to pay off for years. But what if he could offer something else, like the land next to the clinic? What if his girlfriend’s father owned the land?

What if he really knew already just how much the Kent family was worth? What if he’d planned this from the beginning, from the moment they’d met. Just like Donnie had.

Stop it!
Cal isn’t Donnie
.

Unwillingly, she heard Donnie’s voice purring in her ear again, just as it had two years ago. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s a good investment. Just talk to him. He won’t say no to you.” And the look on her father’s face when she’d finally broken down and gone to him for money, that mixture of contempt and pity as he finally told her just what his private detectives had found out, just what Donnie was.

But Cal
isn’t
Donnie. He isn’t! He’s not like that. He wouldn’t do that to me.

But what if he was? Maybe not as bad as Donnie, but… What if part of her appeal was the fact that she could help Cal take care of his financial problems? Maybe not even by giving him money, but just by helping him get the lot for Horace?

I think I’m in love with you, Docia.
From Donnie’s point of view, it had been as easy to love a rich girl as a poor one. Maybe from Cal’s point of view too.

I don’t know. I’m not sure anymore. I have to think. I need to clear my head.
Her stomach clenched in misery.
Not here. I can’t think here. I want to go home.

From somewhere overhead she heard Cal stir. “Babe? Anything wrong?” he called sleepily.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Everything’s okay.” But every instinct she possessed screamed at her that it wasn’t.

She took a deep breath. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d get out of here, and go somewhere she could think.

Because she’d be goddamned if she’d make the same mistake twice.

Chapter Sixteen

Docia was quieter than usual when they got up the next morning, but Cal figured she had a right to be, given everything that had happened to her over the last two days, to say nothing of his own, probably ill-timed declaration. After that non-event, he didn’t feel too talkative himself. Something else nagged at him too, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Nico jumped onto the counter beside him and rubbed against his arm as he poured coffee. Cal scowled. “I’d be willing to bet you’ve already been fed.”