Barbara Dunlop: Hitched For The Holidays: Hitched For The Holidays / A Groom In Her Stocking

“I’m not going to pass you off as a physician. There’s nothing wrong with being a vet.” That didn’t come out quite the way she intended.

“I thank you. The vet school at Iowa State University thanks you. My profession thanks…”

“Please!” She gave the leash a tug Peaches couldn’t ignore.

“Give Della the directions to your place. You’ll make her day.”

He cut her off before she could start gushing again, but she wasn’t proud of what she’d done. She would have left with her tail between her legs if she had one. As it was, she slinked through the reception area, past the shelves of vitamins and pet supplies and the desk where Della Rodriguez managed the office.

Della’s flamboyant red, yellow and green print blouse was a splash of color in a room furnished in muted shades of desert tan, taupe and white, and her personality was as colorful as her outfit. Usually Mindy enjoyed her humorous take on life in general and her stories about her husband, Larry, in particular. Today Mindy wrote her check quickly and didn’t even ask about Della’s three grown kids or four grandchildren. She couldn’t get away fast enough, but fortunately she remembered to scribble directions to her home on the back of one of her business cards. She handed it to Della and beat a retreat before the woman could ask any questions.

Mindy had come on false pretenses and was sure she looked guilty. But she did have a date with a doctor to pacify her father. Eventually the little stab of guilt would fade away. The last thing she wanted was to deceive Dad, but he’d hated every boy who ever showed up at their door when she lived at home. He wanted a conservative, professional type for his daughter, a man whose values mirrored his. In other words, someone safe. Even in Arizona she couldn’t escape his mating machinations. He was sure to have an old college pal living there or a friend with a bachelor son in one of his accounting groups. If he met Eric and was reassured about her prospects, they could have a nice visit, and he could go home with his mind at ease about her prospects.

Imagine, Dr. Eric Kincaid was as nice to people as he was to animals.

ERIC TOSSED his lab coat in the hamper and turned off the light in the examining room. Della had gone home an hour ago to make dinner for her husband and whatever kids and grandkids happened to be around. Tonight he’d been glad to close the clinic himself. She was the best receptionist and bookkeeper he could possibly find, but no doubt she was dying of curiosity about the directions Mindy Ryder had left with her.

He sighed, thought of how good a shower would feel, and decided to run a couple of miles before he had dinner. There were no patients in the hospital wing of his clinic, so he could look forward to a night of uninterrupted sleep.

Instead of running upstairs to change, he did something he almost never did. He stopped in the reception room and sat on one of the taupe vinyl chairs, which were pet proof and comfortable enough to keep people from squirming if they had to wait long. He liked the room. The desert-sand walls were hung with oil portraits of dogs he’d painted himself and a few prints of cats, birds and fussy rodents to compensate for his canine bias. Several Formica tables with black metal legs held the usual assortment of magazines and brochures on pet care. An antique boot scraper shaped like a dachshund sat on the counter where Della presided over his busy practice.

By the time he finished his evening run, the cleaning service would be at work making sure his clinic looked and smelled fresh in the morning. The marbleized brown, tan and white floor tiles had to be swept and scrubbed nightly, a chore he could afford to pass on to professionals now that his practice was booming. This Iowa boy was doing all right in the sunbelt city, although it’d been pretty iffy the first year with payments on the clinic and vet school debts. He owed a lot to his parents for co-signing some whopping big loans, using their furniture store as collateral, to help him get started after his residency. It had been a good investment, and they’d moved from Des Moines to Mesa and opened a new, more upscale store to be closer to him.

Now if his mother would just get over Cassandra and stop trying to find someone else for him, he could breathe easier.

Sure, it had hurt for awhile after she broke off their engagement, although technically speaking, he’d never felt dumped. He saw it coming and decided it was the best thing that could happen. Cass had too much money for her own good, and all she really cared about was making a splash with the horsey set at her country club.

He’d been a little slow getting her number, dazzled by dark auburn hair, creamy skin and a curvy body that turned him on every time she sat on a horse.

She also looked down her nose at his humble little practice and had grandiose plans to make him the vet in charge of her stable of Arabians, a job she insisted wouldn’t allow any time for cats and dogs.

Eric stood, stretched and headed upstairs through the private door to change in his second-floor apartment. He was only thirty, but bachelorhood suited him. He didn’t want his professional life complicated by personal relationships. He had worked too hard to get where he was to let himself be remade by Cass, or any other woman—especially a patient’s owner.

He never dated his patients’ owners. Never…

So, he’d really stepped into it today by agreeing to help Mindy. But he didn’t regret his moment of weakness. He honestly sympathized with her, considering his own mother’s quest to hunt down a potential wife for him.

Besides, Mindy was friendly and cute. Her personality sparkled, and it made his day when she brought Peaches to see him. For the first time since his breakup with Cass, he had a genuine case of the hots. Mixing his professional and personal life was still a bad idea, but he couldn’t help imagining how it would feel to get up close and personal with the gorgeous brunette. Of course the downside was now he had to have dinner with her overbearing father.

At the top of the stairs he stripped off the T-shirt he wore under his lab coat and rubbed the moist, matted hair on chest. Even though it was late fall, the cool season, his second-floor apartment felt warm and stuffy. He slid open the balcony door and looked out at a vista not exactly devoid of human habitation, but sparsely populated enough to suggest desert wilderness. True, he could see a cluster of mobile homes to the left, but Chandler was as close as he could get to open country and still have his clinic easily accessible to the metro area.

He was procrastinating. No supper for him until he ran, and he was ravenous. He’d spent too much time with Mindy and perfectly healthy Peaches, so he’d compensated by skipping lunch, not something he did often.

Back inside, he stripped to his briefs and put on his yellow running shorts, a white tank top, heavy crew socks and a new pair of running shoes he was still breaking in.

Darn, he wasn’t in the mood to go jogging. His spacious, high-ceilinged living room was too inviting. His two huge couches upholstered in caramel, sand and ruddy stripes enticed him to lounge in front of the TV and do nothing for a rare change.

Maybe he’d overdone it a little on the Southwest motif in his decor, but he loved this room with the adobe-red tiled floor, stark white plaster, and red, black and yellow Navaho rug hanging on the wall. Since he’d had the clinic built to his specifications, he opted to have one large all-purpose room with only his bedroom and bathroom partitioned. He got wonderful light from a skylight in the roof that could be shaded in the heat of summer.

He made himself leave his lair, knowing much of his reluctance to run this evening was because of his habit of mulling over his day as he worked out. He was pretty sure he’d goofed with Mindy, and it was his own fault. If he’d wanted to date her, he should have been upfront with her. Had Cass shattered his confidence so much he was using professional concerns to keep a desirable woman at arm’s length? He didn’t think so, but he didn’t seem to have enough incentive to jumpstart his social life.