Vet's Desire Read online

  Immediately she enveloped them in smothering hugs, her impressive bosoms mashing against them. Expensive perfume filled the air and her many bracelets clinked together.

  Holding Cindy’s arms, she stepped back and looked her over. “Marvellous gown, darling. Loving the accessories. What do you think of these?” Lifting the skirt of her black gown, she showed trim ankles clad in outrageous platform sandals.

  “Oh, very nice.” Very girly, too, perhaps a little too girly for an older woman, but then again, who cared? Cindy grinned. “What about these?” Lifting the hem of her gown, she waved one gold-sandalled shoe at her mother.

  “Adorable! I want some. Where did you get them?”

  “Cabornas.”

  “I have to go there. Marty, dear boy, you look positively handsome.”

  “Thanks, Mum.”

  “Please try to control your lustful urges while here. I swear, one day you’ll get us all tossed out on our ears.”

  “Not with our money.” He leered at a young woman passing nearby, delighting in her flush and bright eyes. “Grease enough palms and we’ll slide through anything.” His glance slid around the room. “Where’s Alex?”

  “Your brother is somewhere over there.” Mrs Lawson waved in the direction of the tables holding food. “Avoiding the women and wanting to go home. He only came because I nagged him.”

  Cindy sighed. “Mum, he only just got home on leave from his tour of duty in Afghanistan. Maybe he wanted to stay home.”

  “He needs to get out, forget about that wretched war for awhile and enjoy himself. See if you can talk some sense into him.” Mrs Lawson stopped a passing waiter and placed her empty glass on the tray. “Could I have a glass of orange juice, please?”

  The waiter gave her an almost shocked look.

  “If I get tipsy, I also get a little handy.” She traced one hand down her husband’s arm and winked at the startled waiter. “If you know what I mean.”

  “We save the tipsy for when we get home,” Mr Lawson added gravely.

  The waiter nodded his head and took off.

  Cindy couldn’t blame him. “Ewww. Please.”

  “Honey, where do you think you came from?” Mrs Lawson purred.

  “Let’s not even go there.”

  Her parents laughed before Mrs Lawson looked down at Cindy from her impressive height. “And who is looking after my furry grandchild tonight?”

  “Al’s in good hands, Lara is a vet nurse.” Cindy took a glass of champagne from a tray held out by a waiter. “Thank you.” She couldn’t resist winking at the straight-laced man and he actually blinked before grinning just a little.

  “Well, there’re lots of people we know here,” Mrs Lawson continued. “Mingle and have fun, darlings.”

  One of the first things Cindy did was go in search of her other brother. Going around the room, she followed the wall until she came to the tables loaded down with delicious nibbles. He wasn’t there but she did see a tall, familiar, blonde-haired figure leave the presence of a couple of eager women and disappear through a French door.

  Yep. Alex.

  Heaping up a plateful, she grabbed a tray off a waiter, loaded it with the plate and a couple of glasses of orange juice that another waiter had thoughtfully placed on the table, and skirted around the room until she came to the French doors.

  Slipping out, she carefully closed it behind her and spoke to the still figure standing near the marble rail. “Want some company?”

  “Cindy?”

  “Well, it’s not the model for Jenny Craig,” she replied, placing the tray down on the little table to the side and kicking out a chair. “Rest your arse, soldier, and be at ease.”

  Alex laughed a little and sat. Eyeing the plate, he raised one brow. “For me?”

  “Us, greedy guts. It’s for us.”

  Plucking a prawn from the little pile, he dipped it in the tiny bowl of sauce and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm. Good.”

  “What, they don’t give you this on the road?” she teased.

  “No, so I’ll probably get the shits for eating it now.” Picking up the orange juice, he took a sip and grimaced. “What? No beer?”

  “Hey, be grateful for what you get.”

  They ate in contended silence for several minutes. Cindy didn’t ask questions, she didn’t push, she just let things happen as they would. One thing she’d learned early on was that Alex was a thinker and when he wanted to talk, he’d talk. Until then, no amount of urging would get him to say a word about his experiences.

  Not once did he mention Afghanistan or the war, and she let it go. After a few minutes, she chatted about Al and her plans for fostering.

  “Nice,” he said. “Good plan. You’ll do well.”

  “Really?” She was surprised and pleased. “You think so?”

  “Absolutely.” In the light coming from between the curtains behind the closed doors, his face was serious. “I can see you with a gaggle of kittens hanging off your apron strings - mummy-cat.”

  “You dick.” She launched a dinner roll at him, which he caught with a laugh that sounded a little lighter than earlier.

  She bit into a piece of pastry. “I saw you dodging the women panting after you.”

  “Yeah. None of them…” Voice trailing away, he shrugged. “Not interested in them, I guess.”

  “Hmm. And to think you were once as girl-crazy as Marty.”

  “Untrue. Marty was always the wildest.”

  “The horniest,” she corrected.

  He grinned, his teeth a white flash in the darkness. “Not you?”

  “Let’s just say my experiences so far haven’t been that great.”

  “How about that Italian bloke?”

  “Nah. No magic there.”

  “Look at us, we’ll end up two unmarried, bitter old siblings, sharing a house and screeching at each other to be heard through our hearing aids.”

  “Overrun with cats,” she added.

  “Could be worse,” he said. Reaching over, he patted her hand. “Could be worse.”

  Catching a reflection of something in his eyes, Cindy’s heart did a little flip. She just knew he was speaking about something else, but even as she ached to ask him what had happened in the war, she did what she knew would comfort him. Turning her hand over, she gave his a little squeeze of understanding and acceptance, and immediately he relaxed back in the chair.

  “Thanks,” he said softly.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  The French doors opened a few minutes later and Marty stuck his head out. “Good grief. Holed up out here in the dark. Come on, Alex, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

  “Do I have to?” Alex sounded pained.

  “Of course. I’ve kept the very best for you, you ungrateful sod. Cindy, if you don’t get your arse inside soon, Mum will come out here and drag you inside. Mingle, girl, mingle!”

  “We should have locked the door.” Alex stood.

  “Duty calls.” Cindy started to pick up the tray, only to straighten when Alex took it instead.

  “Ever the gentleman,” Marty observed.

  “More than you’ll ever be, anyway.” Alex shouldered him aside.

  Marty retaliated, shoving him back, and they both ended up in a shoving match that had them spilling into the ballroom, by some miracle Alex retaining his hold on the tray without tipping anything off, and Marty without falling to his knees.

  Grinning, Cindy followed them inside, only to catch sight of both her parents giving the siblings the eagle eye from right across the room. Changing her tactics, Cindy shook her head sorrowfully and pointed at her brothers ahead of her.

  “I know what you’re doing,” Alex informed her without turning his head.

  “Don’t.”

  “There’s a mirror across the room.”

  “Be sure your evil deeds will find you out.” Marty smirked.

  “I can’t give it to you in public, but inside my mind I’m flipping you both the bird,”
she retorted.

  Alex laughed.

  Marty steered him away and Cindy wandered around, greeting several people she knew and stopping to chat now and again. She was pleased when she spotted Sharon DeLamer, who saw her and waved gaily before swaying across the short distance separating them. Her gown clung to a figure that made many men’s mouths water, including Marty, who, Cindy noticed, was in the act of heading for the other side of the room but did a u-turn and headed straight towards them.

  “Danger coming,” Cindy warned Sharon.

  Sharon took a look over her shoulder and arched one brow. “That man will come undone one day.”

  “Marty has a death wish,” Cindy agreed.

  Marty arrived and proceeded to try and chat up Sharon, but having gone out with him once she firmly put him in his place and with a resigned sigh, Marty headed off to find more forgiving prey.

  Sharon introduced her to several people that she knew, and Cindy chatted, drank a little champagne, and eventually found herself sitting on a bench near a potted plant with a middle-aged man who was making nice with conversation, but lustful with his gaze drifting down to her cleavage every couple of seconds.

  No doubt he thought he had a chance with her. She finally gave him a firm ‘no’ to his advances, threatened to name and shame him to his wife and Dr Clarke, and watched in satisfaction as he left, his back stiff and his cheeks flushed.

  “Done with style,” drawled a well-known voice behind her, one that infused a shiver of warmth right down her spine. Taking a deep breath, she looked up as Tim stepped into view from behind the potted plant.

  And immediately she burst out laughing.

  He arched one brow inquiringly. “Care to share the joke?”

  “Your shirt.”

  “Oh.” Tim smoothed his hand down over the t-shirt he wore beneath an open dinner jacket. On it was written Hot for sex? Come and get burned, baby, burned! “You like it?”

  “Better than your mother does, I’m sure.”

  “You should have seen her eyes when she saw it. She loved it, only she doesn’t like to show it.”

  “Riiiight.”

  “So.” Tim nodded in the direction in which Cindy’s unwanted suitor had disappeared. “Not wanting lover boy?”

  “Let’s just say we had different plans for the evening.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yep. He wanted a piece of me, I wanted a piece of anything else.”

  Amused, Tim grinned.

  That grin, that roguish, yet understanding turn of his lips, made that warmth shiver through her again.

  Ye gods, what was wrong with her? Just looking at him, tall and lean, knowing the strength hidden beneath that smart dinner jacket, it brought back the memory of that strength, those arms, those hands, that wicked mouth…that hedonistic knowledge that - She looked away, moistening her lips. Stop it. You’re not his type, remember? Act normal.

  Act normal while she still had his fingerprints embedded in her bottom cheeks, his grip had been that hard.

  Tim made to move away and she breathed an inward sigh of relief, only to have him sigh in turn, only out loud. He surprised her by sitting down on the bench right beside her. There wasn’t much room, so unless she wanted to pointedly get up and walk away, she could do nothing but sit right beside him and watch the dancers.

  Dancers. Oh boy. That’s how their intimate encounter had started. Dancing.

  “Cindy,” Tim began, then, “Shit.”

  “Oh, nice place to put my name, right beside that swear word.” She concentrated on getting her pulse to slow down.

  Since when had she had a heart problem? Since Tim, obviously, going by the pulse that continued to leap a little at his closeness. He smelled clean, his cologne subtle yet distinctly male, drifting through her senses…just like it had that day he’d taken her on the table.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Leaning his elbows on his knees, Tim linked his hands together and dangled them between his knees as he also kept his gaze on the dancers.

  Searching for something - anything - to say, Cindy said, “I guess Hannah being your Aunt gives you automatic invite?”

  If you mean the summons from Hell, yes.”

  “Huh. I’d heard you didn’t get along with your Mum.” She slanted a sideways look at him, studying his profile. “Seen it too, in fact.”

  “From her other parties.” Tim nodded. “I’ve seen you at them.”

  “From a distance.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because I’m not your type.” Now why had she said that?

  “Precisely.” Turning his head, he looked her directly in the eyes. “I need to apologise for the other day.”

  “Because it worked so well then.”

  “I can be a klutz when it comes to words.”

  “Really? I heard you can be a charmer - to the right kind of girl.” Holy heck, where were these words coming from?

  “You’re still mad.”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Your eyes are positively sparkling with fury.” His gaze wandered over her face. “Your lips are also pressed tightly together.”

  Consciously, she sought to relax her features. “Better?”

  “I’m not sure. You did that so skilfully, it’s scary. Reminds me of my mother.”

  “Oh, because that sentence is going to make me forgive you.”

  His eyes narrowed a little as he continued to regard her steadily.

  Cindy eyed him right back because, hell yes, she was still mad at him. She’d thought she’d dismissed him so easily and look at that, turned out she’d just pushed it underneath and now she was sitting beside him, that anger was just bubbling back up to the surface again.

  Tim studied her before saying quietly, “Yeah, I want you to forgive me, and isn’t that the joke of the day?”

  Cindy blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  A couple went past, talking loudly, and he stood up. “Let’s go find somewhere private to talk.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we need to.” He closed his eyes briefly. “Jesus, Rick and Mike all over again. I have to stop spending so much time with them.”

  “What? How much have you had to drink?”

  “Obviously not enough.” He held his hand out to her. “Please?”

  A glance across the ballroom showed Marty standing beside a beautiful brunette, his gaze fastened on Cindy and Tim, and he didn’t look happy. Probably because Cindy wasn’t getting up happily, which meant she wasn’t happy, which meant that Marty was going to come across any minute to find out why.

  That was not something she wanted to happen.

  Taking Tim’s hand, she let him help her up before releasing his hold.

  It didn’t deter him. Cupping his arm under her elbow, he steered them around the edges of the ballroom and out onto one of the verandas, closing the French doors behind them. The light from the ballroom spilt between the curtains and he drew Cindy to the side into the shadows.

  Turning to place her back against the marble rail, Cindy folded her arms and regarded Tim in the gloom.

  Gaze flicking down to her bosom, he inhaled loudly and leaned back against the wall, his hands going into his pockets as he slouched comfortably back. But she wasn’t fooled, for while he might have appeared calm, she could feel his tension.

  “Okay.” She broke the silence. “I came out here to save you from Marty causing a scene. This better be worth it.”

  “Your family is close.”

  “You could say that.”

  Tim was silent for so long that Cindy thought he’d changed his mind about talking, but when she impatiently made a move to leave, he stepped forward quickly, grabbing her arm and blocking her.

  She felt that touch on her arm clear down to her soul, warm and tingling.

  For several long seconds there were only the combined sounds of their breathing, the cool of the night, the music floating through the closed French doors, and the heat between thei
r bodies.

  Cindy couldn’t help but suck in a deep breath. God, he smelled so delicious.

  Abruptly, Tim jerked her towards him, to kiss her, she just knew by the way his head inclined downwards towards her, only he just as abruptly shoved her back again.

  Boy, did that hurt, and not physically. She blinked, refusing to show it. “Wow, man of decision. Am I that abhorrent to you, Clarke?”

  “No, I - damn it. Damn it, Cindy.” He thrust one hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, okay?”

  “You want forgiveness now for the non-kiss? I ought to kick your indecisive arse. I don’t blow bloody hot and cold like you, you jerk.” She made to push past him again, only to be stopped once more by Tim grabbing her shoulders and whirling her around to push her up against the wall.

  Before she could step forward he leaned down, his face close to hers, and she could see the glitter of his eyes, the frustration and desire mixed in his darkened expression.

  “You want the truth, Cindy? I was going to ask forgiveness for the other day but you know what? I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry that I took you on the table, I’m not sorry that I buried myself in your body, that I found more pleasure in your lush heat than I’ve ever known. You turn me on, Cindy.” He nodded, a muscle flexing beside his mouth. “Yeah, you make my dick so hard that I’ve had more than one cold shower since that day. Was it only the other day? Hell, it feels like weeks ago, yet it feels like hours only all at the same freakin’ time.”

  Mouth open, she could only stare up at him.

  “You think your weight is a factor I don’t like. News for you, baby. Your curves turn me on, your softness, your - your - everything.” He sucked in a hard breath, his nostrils flaring slightly. “And your scent, Jesus, your scent haunts me. Listen to me, I sound like bloody Mike or Rick.” His laugh was short and hard, almost bitter.

  “So why-”she started, only to have him lay a finger against her lips and shake his head.

  “I’m not into confessions, Cindy. I’m not into this talking out our feelings crap, so listen up, because I won’t be saying this ever again. You’re not my type of woman. I choose women who can take the love ‘em and leave ‘em that I do. I’m not into forever after. I know it doesn’t last. I-”

  “So what about Mike and Rick?” she interrupted, really wanting to know. “You don’t believe their marriages will last?”