LITMIR.BIZ

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      “You damn near killed your dog!”

      When the woman he was addressing didn’t react, Dr. John McIntyre Thorn raised his voice. He was not about to put up with bad manners. After all, he’d just spent several hours of his Saturday night saving her pet’s life.

      “I said you damn near killed your dog. Don’t you care?”

      The instant he touched her shoulder, she jumped and swung around to face him.

      “I saved your dog’s life in there. What kind of blockhead ignores a distended stomach and a dog that’s almost in a coma from the pain?”

      She stared at him for a moment, then raised a hand and cut him off. What the hell was the matter with her?

      “Please speak slowly and form your words carefully,” she said. “I caught ‘blockhead’ and ‘coma,’ but that’s about all. Since I doubt you’d think my dog is a blockhead, you must think I am.”

      “Yes, I think you’re a—”

      Again the hand in front of the chest. “Call me anything you like. But please tell me that Kevlar is going to be all right.” She seemed to be staring at his mouth.

      Then it hit him. He was the idiot. And he called himself a doctor. “You’re deaf,” he said softly.

      “Hearing impaired is the politically correct term, but I prefer deaf. It’s short and ugly,” she said, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.

      Dear Reader,

      Since the first CREATURE COMFORT book was published, readers have been asking me to write Mac Thorn’s story. But how could I find the right woman—or in this case, the wrong woman—to jar him out of his lonely world? Then Kit Lockhart showed up with her young daughter, Emma, and suddenly Mac had not one difficult relationship, but two. Serves him right.

      John McIntyre Thorn is the brilliant but irascible chief of veterinary surgery at Creature Comfort, the largest veterinary clinic in West Tennessee. Mac loves animals. He’s not at all certain he likes human beings.

      Kit Lockhart is guaranteed to drive him crazy. She recently lost her hearing in an accident and can’t hear his tirades. She has her hands full coping with her new disability, an ex-husband who won’t grow up, and a difficult daughter. She’s not looking for a new relationship.

      Ten-year-old Emma is confused and angered by her mother’s condition. She’s even angrier that the people who can hear her don’t seem to be listening. And she’s had about as much change as she can handle. The idea of a stepfather horrifies her.

      Mac, Kit and Emma have each built a protective wall around themselves, but their havens are not happy places. Can love break through the barriers and meld them into a real family?

      I hope you like their story.

      Carolyn McSparren

      Listen To The Child

      Carolyn McSparren

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      ACKNOWLEDGMENT

      The Memphis Zoo is one of the best in the country and employs an exceptionally fine staff of veterinarians and technical assistants. They took the time to show me around and answer my questions. The zoo and staff in Listen to the Child came strictly out of my head and bear no resemblance to the real people I met—except that they’re also superb at looking after the creatures in their care. I especially want to thank Dr. Michael Douglas, Karen Jackson and Linda England.

      DEDICATION

      This book is dedicated to the fine zoos around the world who are trying to create a happy and challenging environment for their charges, and to the people who are working so diligently to preserve endangered species.

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      EPILOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      “WILL HE LIVE?” Nancy Mayfield asked.

      John MacIntyre Thorn tightened the final suture closing the incision along the little brown-and-white corgi’s flank. “No thanks to that idiot who brought him in,” Mac snapped. “Another hour and that kidney would have burst. We’d have had to deal with peritonitis. He can live a full life on one kidney. If we can keep him from getting infected, and if his numskull owner doesn’t kill him before he gets well.”

      Mac gently stroked the corgi’s head. The anesthetized dog could feel nothing, but that didn’t matter to Mac. “You’re going to be fine, little guy,” he whispered.

      “We’re going to keep him in ICU a day or two, aren’t we?” Nancy asked.

      “Yeah. At least a couple days, maybe longer. The longer we keep him, the less chance there is of anyone screwing up what we’ve done.”

      “I don’t think she realized—”

      “It’s her job to know when her dog’s in pain, blast it! Hydronephritis hurts.”

      “But dogs don’t always show they’re in pain. You know that.”

      “A decent owner ought to recognize a sick dog the way she’d recognize a sick child—she may not know what’s wrong, but she sure as hell should realize something is.” He stripped off his latex gloves and dropped them in the waste bin in the corner. “I suppose you want me to speak to her.”

      “Uh…that might not be the greatest idea right now. Why don’t you have a cup of coffee? Calm down a little.”

      “Calm? I’m calm! Who says I’m not calm?”

      “Sure you are.”

      He ignored her. “She in the waiting room? What’s the fool woman’s name, anyway?” He pushed through the swinging doors of the Creature Comfort Veterinary Clinic’s operating room and marched down the hall without waiting for an answer. Nancy raced to keep up with him as he barged into the waiting room.

      There were only two people in the reception area. Alva Jean Huxtable—usually the day receptionist at Creature Comfort, West Tennessee’s largest state-of-the-art veterinary clinic—was working the Saturday-evening shift as a favor to the night receptionist, Mabel Halliburton. When she looked up from the magazine she’d been reading, her eyes widened, and she managed to give the impression she was ducking for cover without moving anything but her shoulders.

      The other woman stood looking out over the parking lot. She wore cowboy boots with heels that added a couple of inches to her five-foot-ten or so frame. From her short haircut and broad shoulders, Mac might have taken her for a man until he saw her narrow waist and the way her rear end filled out her jeans. Definitely female.

      She moved, and the fluorescent light flashed on her hair. Dark red. Not a color one saw every day.

      Nancy grabbed at his sleeve, but he jerked away. “Your dog’s probably

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