Zeph Undercover (2 page)

Fear zinged through her, palpable as a punch to the jaw. Everything she’d heard about cities and their dangers raced through her mind. Through the prickle of adrenaline, anger grew. She hadn’t come all this way only to be taken out by some two-bit burglar. She grabbed the phone and dialed 9-1-1, whispering her location and problem to the operator. The intruder reached the back door before Allie could slip outside. Too late now to go down the hall to the front door. She shrank back and peered around the cabinets.

A shadow fell on the back door, a clearly female shadow. And equally clearly, the woman was an unskilled burglar. She smashed a small pane of glass next to the door, reached in, and unlocked it.

Oh, crumb. Another of his women.

The intruder started down the hall, opening doors as she went. Before Allie could escape, the woman turned back and entered Zeph’s bedroom. Allie crept closer. The mirror over the dresser reflected the bed. And the intruder.

Allie bit back a gasp as a luxurious fur—sable?—coat hit the floor and the naked woman climbed into Zeph’s bed.

Her heart stalled. She’d called the police. Now she’d have to deal with all the explanations and embarrassment. Damn.

She turned to the phone to cancel her call. The crunch of gravel interrupted and she glanced up. The windows framed a black and white patrol car parked in front of the house. She scurried down the hall and opened the door to two police officers.

“I think I made a mistake,” she said. Heat rose to her cheeks. “The person who broke in took off her clothes and got into bed.”

“But she did break in?” the older of the two officers asked.

“Yes,” Allie replied. “Definitely. The back door. There’s shattered glass all over.”

“You live here?” he asked.

“No, but I came in with Zeph Granger, who owns the house. He had to go into the office and asked me to wait.”

“Can’t blame him,” murmured the younger officer, a Jude Law look-alike with a name tag that read Starr.

His partner glared at him and turned back to Allie. “So you didn’t break in?”

“Not my style. I prefer using keys.”

Starr snickered.

“Let’s go see what we’ve got here,” his partner said. “You stay here,” he added to Allie.

Like she wanted the confrontation. “Last door on the left,” she said.

She stayed, as ordered, and listened to the shrill protests that erupted as soon as they switched on the bedroom light.

“I am calling ze mayor,” the woman shouted. “He ees my friend.”

Fake French accent.

The officers came down the hall gripping the woman’s arms. She squirmed against their hold and her fur coat gaped open. She ignored it, but Starr hiked it back in place.

They thrust her into the living room.

“You will pay for this with your jobs.”

“Do you recognize her?” Starr asked Allie.

She shook her head. “But I wouldn’t, necessarily. I’m just—”

“Who ees she? I belong here. Zeph ees mine.”

Allie couldn’t resist the verbal jab. “Yours and all those other women.”

“Publicity stunts. Nothing but publicity stunts. Look at her.” The woman waved a dismissive arm at Allie, ignoring the gaping of her coat. “She ees a nothing nobody slut shoving in where she’s not wanted.”

“Yeah, but I’m the slut with the key,” Allie pointed out.

“I am Camille LeZhade!” She clearly expected to be recognized.

The two officers looked as blank as Allie felt.

“I am a movie star, you cretins. And if one word of this appears in the papers, I will kill you.”

“I think we should take her in, Solís,” Starr said. “We can’t leave her here after she’s made a threat like that. Maybe the mayor’ll come down and identify her.” He winked at Allie.

Solís swallowed a smile and pushed Camille toward the door.

Starr stayed behind. “I’ll need your name. For the report.”

Allie complied, and added, “I live in Stone’s Crossing.”

He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“About three hours northeast of Sacramento.”

“Out in the boonies, right?”

“Right.”
And I’m through with big cities.

And big city guys.

****

Allison Wentworth, newly fledged veterinarian, leaned over the horse’s swollen leg and tried to block the running commentary from the owner. If he said, ‘Doc Haines didn’t do it that way’ one more time, she’d...

“I’m going to deaden the area now,” she said, and readied the syringe.

“You already gave him a tranquilizer.”

“Because this is a very nervous horse. I need to make sure he doesn’t feel the needle. You know that. Why don’t you let Ramón hold the horse and go—”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere, missy. I’m stayin’ right here.”

“
To be sure you do it right
” hung unsaid in the air between them.

Allie gritted her teeth and concentrated on her patient, leaning half under the belly and closer to the kicking end than she liked. Smoothly she slid the needle under the skin and pressed the plunger, infusing a local anesthetic to provide a pain-free experience. For all of them. Twelve hundred pounds of uncooperative horse objecting to being hurt might just ruin her day.

“Are you using too much?” The harsh voice right in her ear made her jump. A few drops of lidocaine dripped on the ground.

The horse shifted nervously, bumping against the pasture fence.

Allie grimaced. “Back up, Tim. You’re in my light, and you need to stay at his head. You can’t hold him if you’re right on top of me.”

His foot shushed through the grass as he edged back.

“Well, are you using too much?”

“No.”

“Doc Haines—”

“Would have done it like this, too,” she snapped, testing the skin with the sharp point. The horse didn’t flinch, so she shaved and disinfected the area, then opened a sterile needle. Tim edged closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off and slid the large needle into the lower part of the swelling. A stream of blood and serum gushed out.

The horse twitched at a fly but didn’t react.

“There we go.”

“About time,” Tim grumbled.

Allie ignored him and concentrated on palpating the swollen area to express as much fluid as possible. When she was satisfied she’d gotten it all, she straightened. “I’ll give him a shot of antibiotic, and then we’re done. Keep him away from that nasty-tempered gray mare. No point in having her kick him again.”

“Doc Haines—”

Allie counted to ten. Silently. In three languages.

The horse nickered and rubbed his head against her, shoving her back a step. She laughed. “Where do you want him?”

Tim gestured at an empty corral. “In there,” he said, and stood back as Allie turned the horse loose, closed the gate, and leaned on the fence to observe him.

Tim joined her. The horse dipped his nose in the water trough for a drink, then nibbled idly at the hay in the feed box.

A memory of leaning against a fence like this with Zeph flashed in her mind. Back when she thought they might have a future. She shoved the memory away. “Call me if the swelling comes back, Tim. But I’ll swing by and check him tomorrow on my way to Harley’s.”

“Not going to pay for two visits.”

“No charge.”
Unlike your precious Doc Haines.

“Okay then,” he said reluctantly. “You did a good job.” The words came grudgingly.

Allie sighed with relief at what was an absolute accolade, given the source.

She’d gotten her D.V.M. She’d come home to set up her practice. She’d won approval, however reluctant, from one of the old fashioned, the-little-woman-belongs-in-the-kitchen ranchers who owned her prospective patients.

And she had a lunch date with her best friend.

Life looked good.

****

“Hey, Hannah,” Allie called as she went through the door of Betty’s Café.

“Hey, yourself. How’s business?” Hannah said from the booth by the window.

Allie slid into the seat facing the door and told her friend about Tim’s grudging acceptance. “And he paid the bill right there on the spot.”

“Way to go!”

Betty zoomed up to the table, order pad in hand. “Good for you, Doctor Allie,” she said, pouring coffee. “That old fool needs to have his nose rubbed in it by a woman who knows what she’s doing.”

“Gee, tell us how you really feel about him, Betty,” Allie said.

Betty took their order and went off toward the kitchen, muttering under her breath.

“Glad we can’t hear that,” Hannah said and leaned across the table. “I’m so happy you’re back in town. I’ve missed you.”

“Not to mention that Stone’s Crossing really needs a vet.”

Hannah grinned. “That, too.”

“I’m happy to be back. I hated being away. And since Dad’s heart attack, I’m staying where I can be here for him.”

“Like staying here isn’t what you’ve always wanted anyway. I know how you feel about cities.” Hannah grinned. “But we both did pretty good in the achieving dreams department. I’ve got the ranch—”

And Luke. Allie bit back envy. Sometimes she almost got lonesome enough to call Zeph.

“—and you’ve got your practice.” The door behind Hannah banged open, and the buzz of conversation that filled the café faded into silence.

Allie looked up. Her mind blanked. Her hand went numb. Her coffee mug hit the table.

Hannah stemmed the flood with a handful of paper napkins. “Allie? You’re white as my albino goat. Are you all right?”

No. Not by a long shot she wasn’t.

Zeph stepped through the door and proved that her insane attraction to him hadn’t waned one bit.

Everything about him still made her hormones sit up and beg. Before That Night, that miserable, jealousy-provoking night when she’d ended what might have been a relationship with one terse note left by the telephone, she and Hannah had giggled over tall, dark, and delicious as the perfect description, but it went beyond that.

They hadn’t talked about the aura of danger that gave edge to his suave looks. Or about the way he radiated testosterone like the sun radiated whatever it put out. Or about the wide-shouldered, rock-muscled body that really cranked her tractor.

Zeph Granger, sophisticated beyond belief, the ultimate urbanite.

Not a good choice for a woman who didn’t do one-of-a-crowd. A country girl who hated cities. One who loved her tiny mountain home more than chocolate.

“Zeph,” she said helplessly, and wanted to kick herself. No wimpy little voice. No tractor cranking.

“Zeph!” Hannah whirled and jumped up to hug him. “It’s so good to see you. Come sit with us.” She dragged him to the table.

Zeph looked down at Allie, the concern in his dark eyes melting her brain. “Allie?” he said.

“Hello, Zeph.”

Zeph slid into the booth beside her, and she practically leaped toward the wall. If he touched her, she’d explode or cry or do something else equally unsuitable. Like beg him to— She clenched her fists in her lap. No.

Hannah broke the awkward silence. “We didn’t know you were coming, Zeph. Why didn’t you let us know to expect you? Are you going to stay with us? Of course not, you must be here to see Allie, and—”

Allie concentrated on breathing. Hannah didn’t know about That Night. So of course she assumed Zeph had come to see Allie. But he hadn’t, and all Allie had to do was stay calm and he’d do whatever he’d come for and go away and everything would be fine. Just fine.

Except that Betty zipped up to the table and hugged Zeph. “Well, if it ain’t the City Boy. You come courtin’ our Doctor Allie? Might as well set yourself down and get started. I’ll bring your lunch with hers. The usual?”

He nodded.

“Coming right up. Good to see you again.” Betty marched back to the kitchen without giving him a chance to nod, much less answer.

Allie had to say something, but that phrase “courting Doctor Allie” had frozen her tongue. At the same time, her impractical heart galloped with a hope her brain refused to admit.

Hannah got to her feet. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” She headed for the ladies room.

Zeph’s face shouted discomfort topped with that male let-me-out-of-here expression. He squared his shoulders and turned to face her. “Allie, we have to talk.”

“Do we?” she said in a surprisingly steady voice.

“I need your help.”

Hope died. “Of course. You’re on a job.”

“I jumped at the chance to see you.”

The flatness in his voice told Allie she’d hit on the truth. He hadn’t come to see her.

“It’s an undercover assignment.”

“You didn’t come here to, if you’ll pardon the expression, court me.”

If the well-padded booth had been stuffed with thumb tacks, he couldn’t have appeared more uncomfortable. “Allie, I— No.”

He looked so miserable that she almost wanted to laugh. If she did, though, the laughter might turn to tears.

“I was going to pretend, but I can’t,” he said. “I’ve never lied to you and I don’t want to start.”