Heart of Stone. Diana Palmer

and Bentley were standing together beside the recovery cage, which contained Bailey. He didn’t look very belligerent now, and his concern for the old dog was evident as he knelt beside the cage and touched the head of the sleeping animal gently with his fingertips.

      “Will he live?” he asked without looking up.

      “We’ll know that in the morning,” Bentley said curtly. “He came through the surgery very well, and I didn’t find anything that would complicate his recovery. For an animal his age, he’s in excellent shape.”

      Boone stood up, facing the vet. “Thank you.”

      “Thank Keely,” came the short reply. “She ignored your suggestion to leave the animal alone until morning. At which time,” the vet added with a glitter in his eyes, “you’d have found him dead.”

      Boone’s own eyes flashed. “I thought he was trying to get attention. Like Keely,” he added with icy sarcasm.

      Bentley’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you really think Keely needs to beg any man for attention?” he asked, as if the remark was incredible to him.

      Boone stiffened. “Her social life is not my concern. I’m grateful to you for saving Bailey.”

      “We’ll know how successful I was in the morning,” Bentley replied. “Keely, can you get my medical bag for me, please?”

      “Yes, sir.” She left the room, glad for something that would take her out of Boone’s immediate presence.

      Boone glanced again at the cage. “He and I have been through some hard times together,” he told the vet. “If I’d realized how dangerous his condition was, I’d never have left him.” He looked at Bentley. “I didn’t know that dogs got bloat.”

      “Now you do,” the vet replied. “Most large dogs are at risk for it.”

      “What causes it?”

      Bentley shook his head. “We don’t know. There are half a dozen theories, but no definite answers.”

      “What did you do?”

      “I excised the dead tissue and tacked his stomach to his backbone,” Bentley replied quietly. “I’ll prescribe a special diet for him. For the next couple of days, of course, he’ll get fluids.”

      “You’ll let me know?” Boone added slowly.

      Bentley recognized the worry in those dark eyes. “Of course.”

      Boone turned to Winnie. His eyes were accusing.

      She grimaced. “Now, listen, Keely knows what she’s doing, whatever you think,” she began defensively. “I agreed with her and I’ll take full responsibility for bringing Bailey over here.”

      “I’m not complaining,” he said. His stern expression lightened. He bent and brushed an affectionate kiss onto Winnie’s forehead. “Thanks.”

      She smiled, relieved that he wasn’t angry. “I love old Bailey, too.”

      Keely came back with the medical bag and handed it to Bentley. She was holding his old raincoat, as well.

      “I hate raincoats,” he began angrily.

      She just held it up. He grimaced, but he slid his long arms into it and pulled it up. “Worrywart,” he muttered.

      “You got pneumonia the last time you went out into a cold rain,” she reminded him.

      He turned and smiled down at her; actually, it was more of a faint turning up of one side of his mouth. Bentley Rydel never smiled. “Go home,” he said.

      She shook her head. “I won’t leave Bailey until I’m sure he’s out from under the anesthesia,” she said, and she didn’t look at Boone. “Besides, you’re sure to have at least one emergency call waiting for you when you get back.”

      “I don’t pay you enough for all this overtime,” he pointed out.

      She shrugged. “So I’ll never get rich.” She grinned.

      He sighed. “Okay. I’m on my cell phone, if you need me.”

      “Drive carefully.”

      He made a face at her. But his expression was staid and impassive as he nodded to the Sinclairs on his way out.

      Boone was glaring at Keely. She averted her eyes and went back to Bailey’s cage to check on him.

      “We should go,” Winnie told her brother. “See you later, Keely.”

      Keely nodded. She didn’t look at them.

      Boone hesitated uncharacteristically, but he didn’t speak. He took Winnie’s arm and led her out the door.

      “You couldn’t even say thanks to Keely for saving Bailey’s life?” she chided as they paused beside their respective vehicles.

      He looked down at her coldly in the misty rain. “I could sue her for bringing Bailey here without permission.”

      Winnie was shocked. “She saved his life!”

      He avoided her gaze. “That’s beside the point. Let’s go. We’re getting wet.”

      “What about your concert?” Winnie asked, and there was a faint bite in her tone.

      “It’s not over. I’m going back.”

      She wanted to say that his ex-fiancée wasn’t going to be pleased that he’d deserted her, even for a few minutes. But she didn’t say it. He was obviously out of humor, and it was never wise to push him.

      Keely stayed with Bailey until he came to and Bentley returned from his call. There was a new emergency, a woman whose champion English springer spaniel was whelping and one of the puppies wouldn’t emerge. Once again, they had to do an emergency surgery to save mother and child.

      It was two in the morning before they finished and Keely cleaned up. “Now go home,” Bentley said gently.

      “I’ll have to.” She laughed. “I can’t keep my eyes open.”

      “No matter what Boone Sinclair says,” he told her, “you did the right thing.” He glanced at Bailey, who was now sleeping peacefully thanks to a painkiller. “I think he’ll do.”

      She smiled. Even though Boone had been a pain in the neck, he did love the old dog. She was glad that he wouldn’t have to give up his companion just yet.

      She went home, tiptoeing past her mother’s room, and went to bed.

      The next day, she worked until noon and then went home to do all the housework that her mother never bothered with. She finished just in time to start supper. By then, her mother was finishing the second whiskey highball and her best friend, Carly, had shown up for supper. Keely, who’d prepared enough just for her mother and herself, had to add potatoes and carrots to her stew to stretch it out. The grocery budget was meager. It took second place to the liquor budget.

      It was the same every Saturday night that she was home, Keely thought miserably, hiding her discomfort while she served up a light supper in the dining room. Her mother, Ella, already drunk, was making fun of Keely’s conservative clothing while her best friend, Carly, added her own sarcastic comments to the mix. Both women were in their forties, and highly unconventional. Carly was no beauty, but Ella was. Ella had a lovely face and a good figure, and she used both to good advantage. A list of her past lovers, despite her substance abuse problem, would fill a small notebook. The mischief she caused was one of her favorite sources of amusement. Next to ridiculing Keely, that was. She and Carly considered virtue obsolete. No man, they emphasized, wanted an innocent woman these days. Virginity was a liability to a single woman.

      “All you need is a man, Keely.” Carly Blair giggled, hoisting a potent Turkish cigarette to her too-red lips. “A few nights in the sack with an experienced man would take that prudish pout out of your lips.”