Puppy Love In Thunder Canyon. Christyne Butler

on his desk just the other day had been a nice touch. There’d been no card and Marge hadn’t said a word about it. Deciding that leaving it in the break room for someone who actually had a pet would only add more fuel to the fire, he’d tucked the jar into the bottom drawer of his credenza.

      All of which had to be the reason why Thomas found Annabel on his mind so much over the past several days. While he could admit, at least to himself, there’d been a spark of attraction, she was definitely not his type.

      If he had one.

      It’d been a while since he’d dated anyone. The women he’d gone out with in the past, when he found the time or desire, were professionals focused on their careers, much like him.

      Of course, his last attempt at a serious relationship had dissolved into such a fiasco he ended up having no choice but to seek another job as far away from Southern California as he could get.

      Which meant returning home to Thunder Canyon.

      Besides, Annabel seemed … well, a bit flaky, idealistic, pushy. They could not be more opposite. Yet when he reviewed his calendar each morning he’d found himself looking for her name.

      It wasn’t until after Forrest Traub’s surgery two days ago that it appeared with the promised thirty minutes blocked out for Thursday afternoon.

      Today.

      Annabel—and her dog—should be here any minute.

      Not wanting a repeat from last time, Thomas sat behind his desk and tried to edit his latest article for a leading medical journal, but after reading the same paragraph three times he was glad when familiar tapping at the door came.

      “Come in,” he said, recognizing his secretary’s signature knock. “Marge, I’m out of red markers. Could you find me a few more, please?”

      “Sorry. I come bearing gifts, but not a red marker in sight.”

      Thomas looked up and found Annabel Cates standing in his doorway. He immediately noticed she wore her hair pulled back from her face in a ponytail. It made her look younger, though the curves presented in her simple bright yellow top and denim skirt said otherwise. He found himself wondering just how old she was.

      He stood, his gaze drawn to her bare legs and toes, thanks to her sandals, this time the nails sporting a matching neon-yellow shade.

      Details. Thomas was known for being a man of details, but he realized he’d taken in her entire outfit before he noticed the large, leafy green plant she held in her hands.

      And the fact she was alone. No dog in sight.

      “Don’t tell me my secretary is baby—err, dog sitting.”

      She smiled and it lit up her entire face. Another detail he remembered from the last time she was in his office.

      “Nope, it’s just me this time. Disappointed?”

      “Not in the least. Please, come in.”

      She did, closing the door behind her before she walked to his desk and held out the plant. “This is for you. It’s a Peace Lily.”

      “Are we at war?”

      “No, but I thought the name was fitting and this place needs a bit of color. Also, they’re known for tolerance for low light, dry air and are great indoor air purifiers.”

      “Well, thank you.” Surprised that she went to such lengths to pick out the offering, Thomas took the container, pausing when his fingers brushed over hers. He placed it on the filing cabinet next to his desk. “I can’t promise I’ll remember to water it.”

      “I kind of figured you were a busy guy, so I included an aqua globe. See?” She walked around the desk and moved in behind him, pointing out the green shaded globe barely visible among the leaves. Heat radiated off her body and he suddenly felt naked without his lab coat. “You just fill it, turn it upside down and jab it in the dirt. It’ll water your plant for two weeks before you need to refill.”

      “Ah, that’s … that’s a good idea.” Damn, he sounded like a schoolkid nervous to be talking to the prettiest girl in the class. “Why don’t we sit down and get started?”

      “Sounds great.” Annabel stepped back but instead of taking one of the chairs in front of his desk, she moved to the couch against the wall. Skirting the coffee table, she dropped to one end and patted the spot next to her.

      Thomas cleared his throat, but joined her, making sure to keep an empty space between them. Not that it mattered. Annabel simply scooted closer.

      He fought against the automatic reaction to lean back and rest his arm against the back of the leather sofa. Instead, he scooted forward and braced his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped together.

      “I left Smiley at home because I wanted to be able to talk without any furry distractions.” She grabbed a large book from an oversize bag at her feet. “You don’t have to feel bad or think you’re not an animal person because the two of you didn’t hit it off. You just haven’t met the right one yet.”

      His shoulders went stiff. “I never said—”

      “Most people love Smiley, which makes him so good at being a therapy dog,” she continued, opening the book and laying it flat across her lap. “I started this scrapbook to document our training and all the work we do. There are a number of tests that Smiley had to pass before being certified, such as acceptance of a friendly stranger, walking through a crowd or sitting politely.”

      Thomas cleared his throat. It then closed up completely when Annabel laughed and reached out, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “You’re a special case.”

      Her heated touch seemed to sear his skin through the smooth material of his shirt. His fingers tightened against his knuckles until she released him. “Ah, that’s good to know.”

      “Smiley was also tested for basic commands and how he reacted to being around other dogs, children and medical equipment and so on.”

      “I’m guessing all the animals in this program are required to provide health records?”

      “Of course. They have to be tested annually and maintain a good appearance. Grooming is a must.” She turned the page and pointed to certificates in both her and her dog’s names. “We passed every test with flying colors and have been doing this kind of work for the last six months. I document every visit we make, sometimes with photographs, as we are working toward the American Kennel Club’s Therapy Dog title. Smiley’s been to schools, group homes, clinics and nursing care facilities. Not to mention a couple areas here at TC General.”

      Annabel gently brushed her fingertips over the pictures on the next page of a young girl lying in a hospital bed, her head covered in a colorful head scarf and Smiley stretched out beside her. “This is Isabella. She was the sweetest thing. When we arrived to visit with her she asked me if Smiley was an angel. When I asked why, she said she’d just dreamed that an angel was coming to take her home.”

      Thomas watched as Annabel paused, pressing her fingertips to her lips, and glanced upward for a moment before she went on. “Her mother told Isabella she was too sick to leave the hospital just yet and the little girl said she wasn’t talking about their home. That the angel was taking her to God’s house. She died six weeks later, just days after her tenth birthday. That last week Smiley and I were there every day.”

      He had to ask. “Why do you do that?”

      She looked at him, her blue eyes shiny. “Do what?”

      “Roll your eyes that way. You did it during the appointment with Forrest when I was discussing his surgery and again just now.”

      “I wasn’t rolling my eyes. Not in the traditional sense.”

      “Meaning?”

      “Meaning I’m not bored or exasperated. You see, I tend to get a bit emotional, especially in some of the situations Smiley