Lady And The Scamp: Lady And The Scamp / The Doctor Dilemma. Dianne Drake

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Название Lady And The Scamp: Lady And The Scamp / The Doctor Dilemma
Автор произведения Dianne Drake
Жанр Зарубежные любовные романы
Серия
Издательство Зарубежные любовные романы
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781474025355



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      Ignoring Cassie’s comment, Dee turned to the small basin next to the examining table and lathered her hands. “Then call him back and apologize, Cassie. Do whatever it takes. Like I said, Duchess is the one we have to think about now.”

      Cassie shook her head furiously. “The day I apologize to Nick Hardin, is the day…”

      Dee whirled back around, ignoring the soap that splattered on the floor. “Get out!” she gasped. “Surely you don’t mean the stray belonged to your neighborhood’s resident Hell’s Angel?”

      “Oh, he’s an angel straight from the gates of hell, all right,” Cassie remarked, chewing at her bottom lip. “I just didn’t expect him to be…”

      “A cross between Antonio Banderas and Brad Pitt—with a body better than Sly Stallone’s?” Dee quizzed, exercising the ability all close friends have of finishing each other’s sentences.

      Cassie’s interest perked slightly. “So? You’ve met my infamous neighbor.”

      “Yeah, several months ago. I know you were livid after his smart reply about his lawyer jokes, Cassie, but he’s really a great guy. He and Ron are organizing a committee to help children deal with the problems they face after a divorce. Ron says he’s really great with the kids, and he’s real generous with his time.”

      Disturbed by the news that Nick Hardin might have even one redeeming quality, Cassie said, “Well, he’s an arrogant ass, if you ask me.”

      Dee shrugged her shoulders, then turned back to rinse the soap from her hands. “Well, you know what I always say. Nick Hardin’s one man I sure wouldn’t…”

      “Kick out of bed,” Cassie finished with a groan, then added, “You’re incorrigible, Dee. If I had a hunk like Ron for a fiancé, I’d never look twice at another man.”

      “But you do have a hunk, remember? Or has your insignificant other finally given up on the ice maiden who won’t share his bed, or accept his proposal to become Mrs. Mark Winston?”

      At the mention of Mark Winston’s name, Cassie grabbed her friend’s arm and stared in disbelief at Dee’s fancy Lady Rolex watch. “Damn! Mark’s supposed to pick me up in less than an hour, Dee. I’m supposed to attend one of those stupid fund-raisers with him at noon.”

      “I know you say you aren’t in love with Mark, Cassie, and even if Lenora did handpick him as your perfect mate, you have to admit he’s a very ambitious man. Assistant D.A. now. Senator Mark Winston tomorrow. You could have a great life playing hostess in Washington to all those dignitaries from around the world.”

      Ignoring Dee’s boring assessment of Mark Winston’s credentials, Cassie blew a kiss toward the little strumpet in the crate. “Take care of Duchess, Dee,” Cassie called over her shoulder as she ran from the room. “I’ll see you Monday when the Brits arrives. And once this is all over I want you to send Nick Hardin a huge bill for your services.”

      WHEN CASSIE TURNED INTO her driveway thirty minutes later, Mark Winston was standing on her front porch with a scowl on his face. Looking down over the top of his designer glasses, her insignificant other, as Dee called him, reminded Cassie of a disapproving schoolmaster waiting for a tardy student.

      Forcing a smile she certainly didn’t feel, Cassie stepped from the car, aware that Mark’s scowl quickly changed to a look of total shock when he noticed her untidy appearance. “What’s going on, Cassandra?” he demanded, glancing at his watch as if God had suddenly appointed him official time-keeper. “You aren’t even ready and it’s time to leave.”

      Cassie walked past Mark as he stated the obvious, deciding she preferred extensive root canal therapy to sitting through another luncheon while Mark made a boring speech. “I’m sorry, Mark, but you’ll have to go without me,” she said over her shoulder as she entered the house. “Not that you bothered to ask, but I’ve had an emergency this morning.”

      Having entered the foyer behind her, most women’s version of “tall, dark and handsome” followed Cassie down the hallway. When he marched into the Collinses’ rambling kitchen, he removed the jacket of his expensive Italian suit, slung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, then stood with his hands at his waist, waiting for an explanation. Cassie could see the crisp cut of his freshly starched Brooks Brothers shirt from the corner of her eye, but she continued to ignore him while she poured herself a much-needed glass of iced tea.

      “Well? Don’t keep me in suspense, Cassandra. What was the big emergency?”

      Mark’s insistence on always using her formal name, the way her mother did, had the same effect on Cassie as hearing fingernails scrape down a blackboard. Feeling like a child being interrogated by an angry parent, she whirled around and said, “I’ll tell you what the big emergency was, Mark. A mongrel dog from hell dug his way under the fence and seduced Duchess this morning before I could even swallow my first sip of coffee.”

      “And?” he exploded.

      Bracing herself to keep from grabbing Mark by his two-hundred-dollar tie and tightening the knot until his eyes bulged, Cassie answered through clenched teeth, “And, after I rescued Duchess, I tracked down the dog’s owner and gave him a huge piece of my mind. And then I had to take Duchess to Dee’s office to have her examined.”

      Mark frowned, mulling over her words. “You said you gave him a huge piece of your mind. I certainly hope you haven’t said something to offend anyone in the neighborhood, Cassandra. Your father has personally introduced me to everyone in Biltmore Forest and you know I’m depending on every vote I can get when I run for office this fall.”

      “Believe me, Mark, Father didn’t introduce you to this joker. It was Biltmore Forest’s biggest outcast, Nick Hardin.”

      “Nick Hardin?” Mark repeated, his dark brows knitting in a frown.

      “Yes, Nick Hardin. Like I said, I’ve already given him a huge piece of my mind, and if Duchess turns up pregnant, I’m going to sue that worthless…”

      “And you went to Nick Hardin’s looking like that?” Mark interrupted, letting his eyes travel over Cassie’s under-clothed body. “Good grief, Cassie. I’m surprised he didn’t drag you into the bushes and ravish you the same way his dog did Duchess.”

      Cassie met Mark’s cold stare, unimpressed with his attitude or with his sudden show of jealousy. “Is it some written rule that a man starts thinking with his family jewels the second the woman he’s dating comes in contact with another man?” she demanded.

      Mark’s face reddened. “Well, how do you expect me to react when you go traipsing off to some hoodlum’s house looking like the current playmate of the month?”

      When Cassie refused to answer, Mark eventually broke the silence. Using a much softer tone he said, “Look, I don’t like the idea of you living in the same neighborhood as an outlaw like Nick Hardin, much less you showing up at his house in that outfit. He’s trouble, Cassandra. Leave him alone.”

      And he’s also gorgeous, Cassie thought to herself as the memory of her neighbor’s tight naked buns flashed through her mind. When she noticed Mark glance at his watch again, she said, “You’d better go, Mark. You’ll be late for your speech.”

      “You know how important these functions are to my campaign,” Mark grumbled, unwilling to be dismissed without having the last word.

      “Which is exactly why you should go,” Cassie told him. “It would take me at least another hour before I could be ready.”

      Mark’s jaw muscles tightened as he sent her a scathing look. “Did it ever occur to you that I deserved the simple courtesy of a phone call, Cassandra?” he asked, his temper flaring again. “Who knows? Maybe I would have asked someone else to the luncheon. You obviously forgot all about me the second you had the opportunity to show up on Nick Hardin’s doorstep practically naked.”

      “Oh, for God’s sake, Mark, you’re