LITMIR.BIZ

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handled it?” Hugo’s black-bean eyes widened in disbelief.

      She hadn’t pleased him. Hannah could tell by the look in his eyes, by the set of his body as he stood in front of her, that she had done the very opposite of pleasing him. “I’ll get the soup started,” she said, turning for the kitchen once more.

      “The hell you will. I’m going out,” he said, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. “And you’d better be home by midnight, girlie-girl, or I’m throwing the dead bolt. You hear me?”

      “I hear you, sir,” Hannah said, subsiding onto the couch once more, flinching only slightly as the door slammed and she could hear her father’s heavy tread on the stairs.

      She shouldn’t have come back. She should have graduated and taken one of the dozen positions offered her, from Texas to Maine. She’d graduated at the top of her class; her options had been almost limitless.

      Yet she had come home to work with her father, to help him. To prove to her father that she wasn’t worthless, that she was a good veterinarian, a competent doctor. To face him as an adult, maybe even as an equal, and prove to him—and to herself—that his lifelong assessment of her had been wrong.

      “I could probably give a shrink enough ammunition to have me on the couch for the next five years,” she told herself as she stood up, sighed and walked back to her bedroom to put on the white blouse.

      ALEX PARKED HIS four-wheel drive next to the SUV Hannah had driven out to The Desert Rose, noticing that she’d had it washed since that afternoon. An odd thing to do, considering it wasn’t quite spring yet, and cold, complete with rainy weather and muddy roads. His own vehicle had a crust of mud nearly up to the bottom of the windows, and he doubted he would do much more about it for the next few weeks than let nature give it an occasional bath.

      Then again, Hannah was Hugo Clark’s daughter, and the man was a stickler for some things. Obviously a clean vehicle was one of them, although the man’s personal appearance wasn’t exactly out of GQ. Big and strong had softened to large and sloppy the past seven to ten years, about the same length of time Hannah had been away at school and he’d been left alone, his wife having taken off many years before that, heading for brighter lights and a bigger city.

      “And away from Hugo,” Alex added out loud, shaking his head. Hugo Clark was one hell of a vet, the best around, but he had all the personality of a bear with a thorn in his paw.

      Alex had never thought about it before, but now he found himself wondering what it must have been like for Hannah to grow up, motherless, with Hugo Clark for a father. It couldn’t have been much fun.

      He knew that he and his brothers had been lucky. Uncle Randy and Aunt Vi had raised them as if they were their own, and even as they all missed their biological parents, none of them could ever say they were neglected or left hungry for love.

      Alex looked at the dark two-story building in front of him; the boxlike veterinary office and the small apartment on the second floor. Quite a difference from The Desert Rose. Cheerless, with no grass, no flowers or trees. Just a cement area for parking and a double string of animal pens running the length of the cemented rear yard. Banded by streets at the front and on one side, there was a vacant gas station across the side street, while the other side of the building lined up closely with a small manufacturing plant, and the rear butted up against a small tire yard and automobile graveyard.

      Hugo Clark served as vet for large animals for the most part, servicing his clients and patients on ranches more often than in his own office, which he reserved for treating dogs and cats and rabbits and, probably, the occasional armadillo. It wasn’t as if he needed a fancy office.

      He certainly could afford a separate home for himself and his daughter, though, that was for sure, as he was the most prominent vet in the Bridle area. Alex wondered, just for a moment, why Hugo hadn’t taken more care about where he raised his daughter, then forgot about it as he remembered that he was here to take that daughter out to dinner.

      Cade had teased the hell out of him before he left the ranch, warning him to wear steel-tipped shoes if he planned to take Hannah dancing, and reminding him of the day Hannah had come to the ranch with her father and fallen headfirst into a pile of manure.

      Poor kid. She sure was a nervous sort. High-strung, like a young filly. Awkward, like a foal just finding its legs. Raw, unschooled, and yet with an air of promise about her, as if, with the right trainer, she could be a real champion.

      Not that he would be volunteering for the job. He was here to thank her for the splendid job she’d done that afternoon. She’d saved the mare, he was sure of that, and probably the foal, as well. She’d been calm, focused, secure in her knowledge and not at all afraid to give him orders, take charge, take action.

      And then, once the foal had been delivered, she’d reverted to type, turning back into Hannah Slip-on-a-banana, tripping over her own feet, stumbling over her own words, and generally reverting to the klutz he’d known and mostly ignored ever since he could remember.

      But did he know her at all, beneath the shy, almost nerdy outside that she showed the world while trying to hide herself from it? Obviously not, because he hadn’t believed she could handle the mare, hadn’t even suspected the strength in her slim body, the calm purpose she could exhibit, the self-confidence that had practically oozed from her pores as she did the job she had been trained to do.

      Hannah Clark wasn’t quite Jekyll and Hyde, but it was rather like there were two of her—the competent doctor, and the insecure, stumbling girl who’d always stood very much in her father’s shadow.

      Not that Alex planned to look any more deeply into Hannah’s life, the hows and the whys of it. He was here to take her out to dinner, thank her again and then forget about her until the next time they needed a vet at The Desert Rose.

      He’d knocked on the door twice, with no answer, and finally tried the knob, which turned easily, opening onto a set of narrow, steep wooden steps. No wonder she didn’t hear his knock. He’d thought there might be one or two rooms downstairs, and the bedrooms upstairs, but it would seem that the entire first floor had been turned into offices, leaving the second floor for all of their living purposes.

      Talk about your cramped quarters. Alex already could tell, from looking at the building, that there couldn’t be more than four rooms upstairs, none of them very large. Hugo Clark probably filled up each of them every time he entered a room, leaving very little space for his shy, easily spooked, motherless child.

      Damn, now he was getting melodramatic. Alex smiled, blaming his more imaginative and passionate side on his Arab roots, but also pleased to know that he was, even in Texas, very much his father’s son.

      He climbed the steps in the dark, having checked the light switch and finding the bulb burned out at the top of the stairs, and knocked on the door, which opened almost immediately.

      He blinked twice, adjusting to the light spilling out into the stairway, then smiled at Hannah, who seemed to be blocking his way into the apartment.

      “I’ll get my purse and be right with you,” she said without preamble, turning away from the door. Alex stepped back just in time, as the door closed in his face. He grinned, shook his head and headed back down the stairs, figuring it safer than standing on the top step to wait for Hannah to come barreling through the doorway and knock him down those same steps.

      He stood in the small dark hallway, listening as at least three locks were turned, then looked up when Hannah, holding tightly to the railing, came toward him. Her legs were long, for such a petite woman, and her slacks were slim, allowing him to imagine how straight her legs could be underneath them.

      But that was about all he could imagine. She wore a dark jacket, fully buttoned, and a white blouse that, by all rights, should have been cutting off circulation to her brain. The entire effect, minus the slacks and her sweep of blond hair, was like one big No Trespassing sign.

      Not that the woman had anything to worry about on that head. It wasn’t as if Alex had a death wish,

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