The Secret Seduction

“About the horse,” Fletcher said impatiently, eager to have this business finished so he could go waylay Lily again and keep her from winning the wager.

Carson frowned his displeasure. “It’s the wrong color.”

It was Fletcher’s turn to scowl. “You asked for a roan stallion—”

“I wanted a lighter brown,” Carson interrupted, running a hand through his dark brown hair. “Something with a lot more copper in its coat. This one is too close to the color of my hair.”

Fletcher would have thought the actor was kidding if not for the earnestness on Carson’s face.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Fletcher allowed, with as much professionalism as he could muster, “but stunt horses are in short supply in this area of the country. And since you didn’t want to pay to have one shipped in from the West Coast—”

“Just find what we need,” Carson cut him off. “I’m expert enough to ride even an untrained horse. And while you’re at it—” he pointed to a shady area, half a block away “—do something about those two dogs over there.”

Fletcher turned and looked at the beagle mix and black Lab, sitting side by side in the shade, watching all the activity along with everyone else. “They don’t seem to be bothering anyone.”

“I’m allergic,” Carson announced tightly.

Good to know, Fletcher thought.

“I don’t want them barking and ruining a shot. We’re going to be filming here later.” Carson glared at Fletcher.

“Right.” He nodded as if this were part of his job description.

“So call whomever you have to call and get rid of them,” Carson continued.

“I’ll try their owners,” Fletcher said dryly.

Carson dismissed Fletcher and without a backward glance at any of the fans waving autograph books and calling his name, stepped inside his silver trailer.

Unbeknownst to him, Lily had somehow sweet-talked her way past the security guards standing watch over the barricades and was already heading toward them. She looked disappointed to have missed her chance to wangle an introduction out of Fletcher while Fletcher was talking to Carson. “Hoping to say hello?” he razzed her as she approached, wishing she didn’t look quite so much like a Southern beauty queen this morning.

“Something like that.” Lily looked past him, toward the door of Carson’s trailer.

Fletcher moved to bar her path to the door and stood, legs braced apart, arms crossed in front of him. “Carson McRue specifically requested he not be disturbed,” Fletcher informed Lily with a stern look.

Lily sighed, disappointed. “Maybe later,” she hoped out loud.

Not if Fletcher had anything to do with it. Figuring, however, that Lily would not believe him even if he told her what Carson had just said about her, Fletcher let the opportunity to set her straight about the actor’s true character pass. He gestured toward the two dogs chasing each other on the green. “Want to help me round those two up?” he asked her casually.

Lily’s full lower lip slid out into a delectable pout. “I’m not a dog person. You know that.”

Fletcher could imagine she didn’t want to get her pale pink sundress dirty, and he couldn’t really blame her. It looked expensive. Too expensive to be wasted on a guy like Carson McRue. “How do you know?” he challenged her playfully. “You’ve never owned a dog.”

“So what are you hinting here, Fletcher? That dogs are superior to cats?” She looked down her nose at him. Clearly, she didn’t think so.

“For a young single woman in need of protection—” from men like Carson McRue, Fletcher added silently “—yes. They are.”

Lily lifted a delicate brow. “Maybe from know-it-alls like you,” she acknowledged silkily.

Fletcher looked deep into her eyes, wishing he could haul her into his arms and kiss her senseless again. Just for the hell of it. But knowing that timing was everything, he forced himself to bide his time. He’d not only protect her when all was said and done, he’d win his bet, too. “Just come by the clinic later,” Fletcher told Lily lazily and smiled as her cheeks pinkened all the more. “I’ll introduce you to your new best friend,” he promised.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

Fletcher merely kept smiling and didn’t elaborate. If there was one thing he knew about Lily, she loved a good mystery, just like her grandmother Rose.

IT WAS JUST CURIOSITY, Lily told herself. That and the fact she had an order for a sumptuous bouquet to be delivered to the Holly Springs Animal Clinic reception desk at 6:00 p.m. The flowers were for the “staff” but none of the staff was there. Only the founding veterinarian, Fletcher Hart, who was looking mighty fine in a sage-green work shirt that nicely outlined his shoulders and powerful chest, and faded boot-cut jeans that did the same thing for his legs.

Fletcher came around the reception desk and took the bouquet from her with a smile of thanks. “They’ve all gone home.”

Aware her pulse had picked up at the thought of spending time alone with Fletcher—again—Lily leaned against the counter and adapted the same lazy insouciance he demonstrated. She watched him make a big show of setting the flowers in a prominent place on the large U-shaped desktop that fronted the reception area. “You placed this order, not Mr. N. L. Spartacus.”

“Well, he wanted to, but for obvious reasons he couldn’t contact the shop himself so I arranged it for him.”

“And sent that teenager in with a sealed envelope of cash and instructions.”

“What can I say?” Fletcher lifted his hands in a mock gesture of helplessness. “The kid owed me a favor.”

“You are shameless,” Lily accused sternly. And sexy as could be, standing there, smelling of aftershave, his shaggy honey-brown hair all rumpled, and the hint of evening beard on his masculine face. If she didn’t know better, she would think he was getting ready to go on a weeknight date, instead of merely ending a workday.

His expressive lips tilted up in a playful half smile. “I prefer to think of myself as a facilitator,” he told her wryly.

“I’ll bet.” Lily sighed, wishing she didn’t recall quite so acutely just how much fun it had been to kiss him, even when the proud part of her said she should have been slugging him a good one. She tilted her head, wishing he didn’t have a good eight inches on her in height. The disparity in their bodies made him seem all the more overwhelming. And she did not want to be taken over by Fletcher Hart, D.V.M. Setting her jaw, she forced herself to focus on the reason for her being there. “Why did Mr. N. L. Spartacus want to send the staff flowers, anyway?”

Fletcher appeared just as distracted as she was as he let his gaze rove over her hair, face and lips, before returning with laser accuracy to her eyes. “The usual,” he said seriously. “N. L. Spartacus was grateful for the care he received here and wanted to show it.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Lily wasn’t sure whether she was buying any of this or not. She narrowed her eyes at Fletcher. “And then you set it up so I had no choice but to bring the arrangement over myself.” Thereby keeping her from pursuing her bet about Carson McRue. Not that she had been able to get anywhere near the actor that day, even when she wasn’t working. Production company security had the area well blocked off. And Carson McRue, it seemed, was not acknowledging anyone but show personnel. At least for now….

“Hey!” Fletcher palmed his chest, caveman-style. “How was I to know you’d show up in person?”

“Because it’s a well-known fact around town that all my part-time help goes home at 5:00 p.m. to cook dinner for their families. I always close.”

“Okay. I admit N. L. Spartacus and I had an ulterior motive, getting you over here. And I’ll show you what it is.”

She looked at him blankly. He took her by the hand and led her into the room adjacent to the reception area. At the end in a big wire cage was the yellow Labrador retriever she had seen the previous day. He was lying down when they entered, but thumped his tail in greeting and looked up at them with hopeful eyes. It would have been enough to break Lily’s heart, had she been a dog person. But she wasn’t, she reassured herself firmly. And furthermore, didn’t intend to be.

“Shouldn’t you be talking to his owner?” she demanded crisply. She desperately did not want this to be her problem and she was afraid if she stayed here any longer it might very well be.

Fletcher reported in a flat, matter-of-fact voice, “His owner died four weeks ago. Spartacus—we’ve dubbed him N.L. because he Needs Love—was with the old guy when it happened. His owner was in his nineties and Spartacus stayed with him from the time he had the heart attack until he was found by a neighbor, three days later.”

Lily caught her breath at the horror of the circumstances. “Oh, no.” The poor thing….

“Anyway,” Fletcher continued, his voice a little more gravelly, “Spartacus just went nuts when they tried to take the old guy away. He just wasn’t going to let it happen. So the animal control people were summoned. Spartacus got one whiff of the truck that was going to take him to the pound and knew it wasn’t for him, so he broke loose and ran off.”

Lily pressed a hand to her heart. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “Then what happened?” she asked, the tragedy of the situation almost overwhelming her.

Fletcher shook his head, a brooding look coming into his eyes. “No one really knows. Three days ago, Spartacus showed up again at the house where he used to live, vomiting and so weak he could barely stand. This time the neighbors called my clinic, asked me to treat him. So I got in my pickup and went out to get him.”

Lily looked back at Spartacus. “Needs Love” was certainly appropriate. She had never seen a dog with such a sad and lonely expression. If only he weren’t so big. And strong looking. If only he were a cat. Cats, she knew. And yet he had his own appeal in that handsome big-dog way. His thick short fur was a pale, almost white-gold, and there was a stripe of darker gold down the center of his back that matched the color of his ears. On impulse, Lily hunkered down and reached out to touch him through the wires on the cage. She could feel his ribs sticking out prominently as she stroked his belly. She wondered how he had survived on his own for four weeks. She looked up at Fletcher as Spartacus leaned over to nuzzle the back of her palm affectionately with his black nose. “What was wrong with him?” she asked, still trying like heck not to get emotionally involved here, as his whiskers tickled her skin.