The Oldest Virgin In Oakdale. Wendy Warren

They looked at Ralph, who gazed back sleepily, a huge grin on his bulldog face. “He’s much better today. Mrs. Kaminsky wants him to have cortisone, but I’m going to talk her out of it.”

      Chloe nodded, unclipping and then refastening a barrette on her unruly red hair. “Are you still planning to try acupuncture?”

      “Mmm-hmm.” Eleanor glanced at Ralph, who gazed back adoringly, his big droopy eyes twin puddles of sheer devotion. “I know it would do the poor baby a world of good.”

      The baby in question barked once, as if he were in total agreement.

      Chloe laughed. “Come on, lover.” Approaching the bulldog, she slipped a blue nylon lead over his head. “Time to go back to your home away from home. Dr. Lippert has other patients to see.”

      Reluctantly Ralph allowed himself to be led to the door.

      “Mrs. Kaminsky should be here to pick him up around four,” Eleanor murmured. Swiftly and efficiently she finished Ralph’s chart, closed the folder, and requested, “Let me know when she arrives, will you? I want to speak with her.”

      “Sure.” Chloe paused at the door. “Your next appointment is in room two. A boxer cross named Sadie, in to be spayed.”

      “Thanks.”

      Eleanor crossed to the sink to wash her hands while Chloe lingered in the doorway. She simultaneously raised her brows and lowered her voice. “The puppy’s cute, but check out the dish on the other end of the leash.”

      With her hands beneath the running water, Eleanor froze. “Dish?”

      Chloe nodded broadly. “Wait till you get your first glimpse of this guy. It’s like…like—” she circled a hand in the air “—finding a filet mignon in a meat case crammed with ground chuck. Definitely not from around here, or my hunk radar would have picked up by now. We are talking six feet of pure masculine perfection.” Her eyes began to glow with missionary zeal. “A match-maker’s dream!”

      Oh, no. Eleanor’s stomach muscles clenched in dread. “How do you know he’s single?” she challenged, certain of what would come next unless she derailed Chloe right now. “He could be married with four children.”

      “No way.”

      “Or engaged.”

      “Uh-uh.” The redhead shook her head. “His pheromones scream ‘single!’ Now—” she pointed a finger, pinning her boss with a narrow-eyed stare “—if I were single like some veterinarians in this room, you know what I would do? I would—”

      “Yes!” Eleanor turned off the faucet, shaking her hands over the sink. “I know what you would do.” Attempting to rip a paper towel from a mounted dispenser, she yanked too hard and sent a cascade of white sheets billowing forth. “If you were single—like me—you would go into examining room two and flirt with the steak.” Slapping the excess towels away, she tore off one, wiped her hands and tossed the paper in the trash. Then she grabbed her stethoscope and hooked it around her neck. “Fortunately for the reputation of this office, you are neither single nor me.”

      Chloe’s offended huff did not persuade her. Without further ado, Eleanor gathered her pens and charts. “It’s almost noon. Why don’t you go to lunch,” she suggested. “Have something calming. Like soup. And Valium.”

      Chloe stayed put, propping a fist on her hip. “Fine, make jokes if you want to, but I don’t think your social life is a laughing matter. I’ve worked here almost a year and a half. As far as I can tell, you have not gone on a single date in all that time.”

      Battling sudden nausea, Eleanor fiddled with her eyeglasses. “Chloe, we’re in the middle of a workday here. What does this have to—”

      “I told my cousin Frank to call you. He said he left four messages. You never returned a call.”

      “Oh.” Eleanor had the grace to look chagrined. “Well, I apologize for that. I…it was such a busy…” She snapped her fingers. “That was the week Mrs. Smalley’s ridgeback swallowed a compass, remember?”

      Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Have you gone on even one date in the last year?”

      Eleanor fought not to wince. She didn’t want to have this conversation. She couldn’t win this conversation.

      Moving past her assistant, she placed a hand on the doorknob. Familiar with the adage “the best offense is a good defense,” she hoped the opposite was also true.

      Lifting her chin, she spoke firmly. “Chloe, this is a veterinary medical office, not the Hard Rock Café. Our clients expect dignity, focus and professionalism, and that is exactly what they’re going to get.” She jerked open the door. “Now, we have a patient waiting in examining room two. Let’s try to keep our eye on the ball!”

      Blatantly unimpressed, Chloe shook her head and stomped to the door. “Come on, Ralph, we know when we’re licked. For now,” she tossed over her shoulder as she led the bulldog to the kennels.

      Stepping into the hallway herself, Eleanor closed the door behind her and breathed deeply.

      Good grief! She shook her head. This was happening more and more often lately. Chloe, her parents—they were sending out single-man alerts like flares to a lost hiker. Even Mrs. Pierce at the dry cleaner’s had gotten into the act. Last Friday the elderly woman pulled a navy-blue pinstripe suit off the revolving clothes rack and whispered, “See this? Belongs to a lawyer.” Nodding pointedly, she stroked the lapel. “Nice.”

      “What’s the matter with everyone lately?” Eleanor muttered. She was twenty-eight, for pity’s sake, hardly ancient for a single woman in the twenty-first century.

      Patting the pockets of her lab coat to make sure she had dog treats, Eleanor adjusted her eyeglasses and moved down the hallway. Her rubber-soled shoes squeaked on the linoleum.

      Pausing outside examining room two, she smoothed ash-blond hair behind her ears. Okay, so maybe she’d neglected her social life a bit. But she had a career to contend with, and she was a grown-up; grown-ups prioritized. Besides, she was good at her job; no one could deny that. Work was where she felt comfortable. Work gave her a confidence missing from certain other areas of her life. When she aided animals and the people who cared for them, she felt, well, a kind of grace.

      Calling forth a genial smile, Eleanor reached for the doorknob and strode purposefully into the examining room, eager to greet her new clients, human and canine. “Good afternoon, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long. I’m Dr. Lippert, and I… I— I’m…”

      Behind her wire-rimmed glasses, Eleanor’s eyes opened wide. Her mouth went dry, and so, apparently, did her brain. The words she’d been about to speak blew away. She didn’t have “hunk radar,” not like Chloe, but it didn’t take Doppler to realize that standing before her, next to a steel examining table atop which perched a panting boxer pup, was the single most attractive man she had ever seen.

      Black hair, the color of India ink, waved thick and shining around a face that belonged on the cover of a movie star magazine. Brows that were dark as night framed eyes that were as blue as morning glory, and his smile… Eleanor actually felt goose bumps race up her arms. Slow, liquid, his grin flowed like a lazy river, creating a lopsided curve that seemed oddly, deliberately personal.

      Good Lord, Chloe wasn’t kidding: This man…that is, her client was…steak.

      Glancing to the chart in her hands, she gave herself a mental shake. Her brain felt fuzzy suddenly, like a TV screen filled with snow. “I’m—” Pushing at her glasses, she scanned the patient information sheet quickly. “I’m Dr…. Uh, Sadie… I’ll be neutering Eleanor today.”

      Turning, she deposited the paperwork on the countertop. Brushing her perspiring palms on her lab coat, she pulled a pen from her breast pocket, dropped it, bent to pick it up and hit her head on the edge of the counter.

      “Ow!”

      “Are