Lady And The Scamp: Lady And The Scamp / The Doctor Dilemma

“Hey, if the mutt’s been in your garbage, I’m sorry,” Nick interrupted. “I found the little bandit at a garbage dump when he was only a pup. It’s a bad habit of his I can’t seem to break.”

The overwhelming knowledge that the degenerate dog had credentials even worse than she imagined instantly erased any curiosity Cassie had about the part of Nick Hardin’s body that was still under water. “Oh, I assure you, your dog’s crime is much more serious than raiding trash cans,” she remarked tersely. “Your mutt, as you call him, dug a hole under my fence this morning and accosted a world-champion show dog.”

Cassie watched an amused look cross his painfully handsome face while he digested her statement. At about the time Cassie decided Nick Hardin was actually contemplating the seriousness of the situation, he burst out with the same gregarious laughter he’d exhibited when she called to complain about his stupid lawyer jokes.

How dare he laugh about his own negligence! Reaching for the first thing that caught her eye, Cassie grabbed a towel from a nearby deck chair and flung it in her tormentor’s direction. “If I were you, I’d get out of the pool and get dressed, Mr. Hardin,” she informed him curtly. “I doubt you’re going to find things so funny when we discuss the extensive lawsuit I intend to file against you.”

NICK CAUGHT THE TOWEL easily, but remained in the center of the pool, watching his exquisite guest stomp back around the side of the house. He’d always been a sucker for cutoffs, and this lady had a delectable little fanny that filled out the short cutoff jeans to perfection.

When he’d first surfaced from his dive, Nick decided his fuzzy head from his night out with the boys the previous evening was responsible for conjuring up the vision of loveliness he found standing beside his pool. When he started swimming in her direction, however, the shocked deer-in-the-headlights look she gave him convinced Nick that his visitor was real.

In no longer than it took to shake the water from his face, he had absorbed every detail of her more-than-pleasing appearance. She was literally stunning, even in cutoff jeans and a baggy T-shirt that had Run for Fun splashed across the front. Not that the loose-fitting T-shirt concealed her well-endowed bosom from Nick’s prying eyes, because it didn’t. No more than her extremely short cutoffs kept him from committing her long, perfectly shaped legs permanently to his memory.

The only problem seemed to be her age. Though her manner of speaking and the way she carried herself suggested she was older than she looked, her teenager-type attire and her slightly askew ponytail made Nick suspect she was barely past twenty. Enticing or not, women on the low side of twenty were much too young, even for a thirty-something rake such as he.

Pulling himself out of the pool, Nick wrapped the wet towel around his waist, then wandered into the house, oblivious to the dripping water that trailed across the expensive parquet floors. The last thing he needed to start his weekend off was another irate neighbor. He had left the rat race in Atlanta, seeking peace and solitude in the Blue Ridge Mountains, only to find when he arrived in Asheville that he’d traveled back in time fifty years. The upper-crust socialites who shared his lovely locality had been appalled by his long hair, outraged by his refusal to adhere to their silly rules and dress codes, and mortified by the big Harley-Davidson that had always been Nick’s pride and joy. Now it seemed even his choice of pets didn’t meet with their approval.

From the den, he grabbed the faded polo shirt and jeans he’d worn the night before, then tossed the dripping towel into the sink on the well-stocked wet bar that took up one side of the sparsely furnished room. Droplets of water still clung to his lean, muscular body, but Nick donned his clothes without toweling off, then slipped his feet into a pair of well-worn Birkenstock sandals. After raking his fingers though his sun-streaked hair, he pulled the wet mass to the back of his head, then used a leather strip he pulled from the back pocket of his jeans to secure his hair in a short ponytail.

His first instinct was to throw the irate beauty off his property, but Nick decided maybe it was time he took a more amicable approach where his fellow neighbors were concerned. He had, after all, invested a huge chunk of his financial reserves in the aging estate he now called home. If spreading a little harmony around the neighborhood could give him a reprieve from the scorn he’d been receiving to date, showing his good side might make life in Biltmore Forest a little more pleasant for everyone concerned.

“Stay,” Nick told his unwanted shadow when the frisky terrier followed him faithfully down the hallway to the front door. “It appears you’ve already caused enough trouble for one day.”

MINUTES LATER, NICK found his exquisite visitor propped against the luxury sedan that was sitting in the driveway next to his classic ’47 flat-fender Jeep. Arms folded stubbornly across her chest, she still wore the same surly look on her face. Nick hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, then sauntered down the steps in her direction, wondering if he still had what it took to cajole his agitated visitor into a friendlier mood.

He attempted his most winning smile. “I was just getting ready to fill the espresso machine. If you’ll join me, maybe we can discuss this dog situation over a cup of coffee.”

Lifting her chin defiantly, his visitor glared in his direction. “This isn’t a social call, Mr. Hardin. Everything we need to discuss can be discussed right here.”

“Well at least drop that ‘Mr. Hardin’ crap,” Nick said, trying to get at least one smile out of his attractive guest. “I’m Nick.”

“And I’m what I think you referred to as a vulture on your program several weeks ago,” she replied, ignoring his outstretched hand.

Nick paused, vaguely remembering the incident. But he stifled a laugh when he recalled the entire situation. “Ah, so you’re the attorney who didn’t particularly care for my joke about…”

He watched her aqua-blue eyes immediately turn a shade darker and several degrees colder. “About vultures and lawyers?” she quizzed, finishing his sentence.

Nick grinned in spite of himself. “Hey, I’m sorry you didn’t particularly care for that joke, counselor. But like I told you when you called, you can always tune me out if you don’t like my program.”

“Oh, I’ve tuned you out, all right,” Cassie retorted. “I suspect hundreds of other women who don’t care for your chauvinistic attitude have done the same.”

“Chauvinistic?” Nick moaned, pretending to be hurt. “Hey, you’re way off base on that one, counselor. You see, I’ve always been extremely fond of women.”

“As long as they’re barefoot and pregnant, and know their place, you mean?” she challenged.

Nick flinched. In all fairness, he could understand that his lawyer jokes, and now the incident involving his dog, might be responsible for launching a bumblebee up the legal eagle’s attractive little behind. But he was quickly growing weary of being attacked in his own driveway. Determined to make his snotty visitor vanish as quickly as she’d appeared, Nick deliberately let his coal-black eyes travel over her body with a look that even this uptight attorney couldn’t misinterpret.

And only when she flinched did Nick break his ill-mannered leer.

“Sorry if my appraisal made you uncomfortable,” Nick lied. “But since you’re already barefoot, I was just trying to imagine the pregnant part.”

Cassie gasped and looked down at all ten of her hot-pink polished toes. In her haste to get retribution for the heinous crime Nick Hardin’s dog had committed, she had completely forgotten that she left home looking like some reject from a bargain-basement sale. She hadn’t even realized that she wasn’t wearing shoes.

Clenching her fists to keep from slapping him, Cassie struggled until she finally regained her ability to speak. “If that was meant to shock me, it didn’t,” she huffed. “In fact, that’s exactly the type of statement I would expect from a man like you.”

Raising one eyebrow slightly, Nick grinned. “Hey, I hate to point out the obvious, but you’re standing in my driveway, counselor, I’m not standing in yours. If you find me so offensive, you can always leave.”

His comment brought an even deeper shade of pink to Cassie’s cheeks. “Oh, believe me, I’ll be more than happy to leave once we come to an understanding about the damage your idiot dog…”

“Let’s see. How did you so aptly put that before?” Nick interrupted, bursting out laughing again. “Didn’t you say he accosted…?”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Cassie snapped, cutting him off. “But your mutt didn’t assault just any dog. I’m talking about a priceless dog. A dog that would put a dent in any bank account. Even one as healthy as yours.”

She paused then, giving Nick a chance to comment on the significance of her statement. Instead, he remained silent, keeping his eyes fixed permanently on her full, moist lips. The same type of lips he would have preferred tasting and teasing, instead of watching them spout out a bunch of silly nonsense about some famous show dog.

“Since I’m sure you do little else than listen to your own voice on the radio,” Cassie accused, “you obviously failed to read the front page of the Asheville-Citizen Times a few weeks ago when they did a feature story about the local bichon frise who won Best-in-Show at the Westminster Dog Show in New York City.”

“Let me guess,” Nick scoffed, thinking that even the name of the damn dog sounded pretentious. “This…be-shon free-za, or whatever name you called the silly dog, just happens to be…”

“How clever of you to figure it out,” Cassie snapped.

Stalling for time, Nick let out a long sigh, then removed the leather strip from his ponytail and forced his fingers through his still-damp hair. “So let me get this right. Your fancy show dog didn’t bother to ask for credentials before she lifted her manicured little tail for the first stray male who came along, and you think that gives you the right to sue me? Get serious, counselor. How do I know my dog wasn’t in line behind some other hound who got to her first?”

“That’s so typically male!” Cassie shrieked. “That’s always a man’s first line of defense, isn’t it? Always try to pawn it off on someone else.”

Nick shrugged, unwilling to admit or deny the accusation. “Then what about calling in a vet if you’re so appalled that your dog didn’t hold out for a champion stud? I’ve heard they have this shot you can give…”

“You, Mr. Hardin, are even more disgusting than I imagined,” Cassie interrupted. “How brilliant of you to come up with a man’s second line of defense!” Shaking her finger wildly in his direction, Cassie added, “If you think for one minute I’d risk harming a priceless show dog and possibly prevent her from having champion puppies someday, you’re crazy.”

Unimpressed with her tirade, Nick leaned against the fender of the Lexus while the hyped-up attorney paced back and forth in his driveway, stewing over his unhelpful suggestions. He was tempted to grab her and hold her in a bear hug until she finally calmed down, but he was actually enjoying watching her flounce around his driveway with her fists clenched at her sides. Most women he met were all over him before he had a chance to say hello, but Nick already knew this sexy spitfire would probably scratch his eyes out if he even took a step in her direction. And the fact that she might intrigued him.

“And don’t you dare say something stupid, like requesting a doggy paternity test,” Cassie warned, wheeling around to face him again. “I caught your dog in the act, remember? And if I end up playing nursemaid to a litter of unregistered puppies, I intend to hold you and your worthless dog totally responsible.”

With that said, she marched to her car, opened the door and slid behind the wheel. “I’m taking Duchess to the vet the second I get back home,” she announced as she fumbled with the ignition. “I realize you have little use for legal advice, but it would be wise if you obeyed the leash law and keep that flea-bitten mutt at home where he should have been in the first place.”

Nick suppressed a laugh, then quickly placed his hand on the driver’s side door. Leaning down, he sent his beautiful but angry visitor a slow, seductive smile. “Hey, just for the record, counselor, it might ease your mind to know that our dogs may be better suited than you think.”

“Not in this lifetime,” Cassie assured him, grinding the Lexus into reverse.

“But didn’t you just say your dog’s name was Duchess?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” she snapped, taking the bait.

Nick laughed the same hearty laugh she had heard on the radio and by the pool. “Because my dog has a royal name, too. I named him Earl.”

“After one of your motorcycle-riding, beer-swilling friends, I’m sure,” Cassie shot back, then roared out of the driveway, coming dangerously close to hitting the big Harley Hog that was parked at the edge of Nick Hardin’s paved drive.

2

IN LESS THAN AN HOUR after she roared out of Nick Hardin’s driveway, Cassie drove into the parking lot of an elaborate brick building and pulled in beside a lone red Porsche, thinking that she should have taken her best friend’s advice and gone into veterinary medicine instead of law. Dee had been savvy enough to tap into the gold mine that surrounded the movers and shakers in the dog world. Limiting her practice to champion canines only, Dee wouldn’t have allowed a cur like Nick Hardin’s to place a grimy paw on the pavement in the parking lot, much less receive treatment at the chic canine facility appropriately known as Pedigree, Ltd.

Cassie hopped out of the car, dragged Duchess’s crate from the passenger’s seat, then hurried to the glass front door of the building that had Your Champion Is The Heart Of Our Business stenciled in gold letters across the front.

“Dee…we’re here,” Cassie yelled the second she stepped inside.

“Well, hello Daisy Mae,” Dee Bishop teased as she appraised Cassie’s appearance.

Cassie frowned at her friend’s attempted wit. She still hadn’t taken time to change from her shorts and T-shirt, but she had grabbed her sandals this time. “Don’t start with me, Dee,” Cassie warned. “I’ve already had a morning straight from hell and it’s only ten o’clock.”

“Well, your reason for dragging my butt in here on a Saturday better be a good one,” the tall blonde said as she pulled on a lab coat. “I don’t ruin my weekends for just anyone.”

“Spare me the poor pitiful-me act,” Cassie grumbled. “As much as my mother pays you to take care of this fancy dog of hers, I think you can afford the sacrifice.”

“Touché,” Dee conceded. “Follow me.”

Crate in hand, Cassie followed her friend down the hallway to the first doggy examining room. “I know I was vague on the phone, Dee, but I wanted to get here as fast as I could.”

Dee waited until Cassie placed the crate on the table before she unfastened the latch and gently lifted the tiny dog out. “Hey there, Miss Duchess,” Dee cooed. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Are you under the weather today?”

“No. She was under the sex-crazed terrier who lives down the street.”

Clutching Duchess to her breast as if Cassie had arranged for the lewd rendezvous herself, Dee glared in Cassie’s direction. “That isn’t even funny, Cassie. The champion sire your mother arranged for will be here on Monday. If you’ve allowed another dog to get to Duchess first, your mother will kill you.”

Cassie’s deadpan look spoke volumes. “Of course Lenora’s going to kill me, you nitwit. Why do you think I was practically in tears when I called you?”

Ignoring the shocked look on Dee’s perfectly made-up face, Cassie began pacing around the room, talking more to herself than to her judgmental friend. “Believe me, Dee, if you think I’m taking this lightly, you’re badly mistaken. I’m the one who insisted that I should stay behind to keep Duchess and make sure everything went as planned with those breeders from London. ‘I can handle it, Mother,’ I kept saying until I was blue in the face. And do you know what’s so funny?” Cassie added with a hysterical giggle. “For once, Lenora actually trusted me to have enough sense to take care of things. Leave it to me to screw it up and only reinforce my mother’s opinion that I’m not capable of doing anything right.”

“Lenora doesn’t think anyone’s capable of doing anything right but herself,” Dee mumbled.

Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you think I realize that?”

“You already know what I think,” Dee insisted. “I think it’s way past time for you to cut the apron strings and stop trying to live up to Lenora’s expectations, Cassie. You’re twenty-eight years old. Get a life and put that dutiful-daughter act to rest.”

Cassie frowned. “Spare me your dutiful-daughter speech, Dee. You’ve been delivering it since we were in grade school.”

“And I’ll keep delivering it until you get a little backbone and at least move out on your own,” Dee insisted.

Circling the room again, Cassie sighed, thinking about her overbearing, hypochondria-impaired mother whom she loved in spite of everything. “You know as well as I do the minute I left home, Lenora would take to her sickbed like she did the last time I mentioned moving out. She expects me to live at home until I get married, Dee. It’s Mother’s twisted form of punishment for me being twenty-eight and still single.”

“Well, if I were you, I’d risk it,” Dee argued. “Call Lenora’s bluff about that phony heart murmur of hers.”

The image of her mother, left hand to her forehead, right hand draped dramatically over her heart instantly crossed Cassie’s mind. “Oh, Lenora definitely has a heart murmur, Dee. It murmurs suck-er every time I play along when she fakes another siege with her imaginary angina.”

Dee laughed, but shook her head in disgust. “I’ve never been able to understand the hold Lenora has over you, Cassie. You’re one of the most talented, confident and self-reliant women I know—except when it comes to your mother.”

When Cassie didn’t bother to respond, Dee realized the subject was closed. Taking a pair of rubber gloves from beneath the examining table, she snapped them into place and transformed from best friend into Dr. Bishop, canine care-giver. She began feeling along Duchess’s hindquarters.

Looking up at Cassie, Dee said, “And you’re positive Duchess and this stray male made contact?”

“Oh, they definitely made contact,” Cassie confirmed. “If I’d found them sharing a cigarette when I finally got over the shock, it wouldn’t have surprised me a bit.”

“Surely you weren’t letting her run loose knowing her condition?”

Cassie felt like slapping the dear doctor across the face. “Of course I wasn’t letting her run loose, Dee. I had the little witch in the backyard. Her boyfriend was just aroused enough to dig a hole under the fence.”

“You’d be surprised how inventive dogs can be when they’re ready to mate.”

“Oh, I’ve been surprised enough for a lifetime,” Cassie wailed. “Just tell me what we can do about it now.”

“There isn’t much we can do, after the fact.”

“But don’t you have one of those pee-on-a-stick doggy tests or something? Surely you have some space-age method that can tell me if I should start knitting little mongrel puppy booties by the dozen.”

Dr. Bishop finished her exam and tossed the gloves in the waste can. “I can do an ultrasound later, but it will take at least nineteen days before I’m able to detect any fetuses.”

“Nineteen days!” Cassie exploded. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? The grand stud from London is supposed to arrive on Monday.”

“And that may be your salvation, Cass. If Duchess is receptive to the champion male bichon, and the mutt didn’t impregnate her first, you may get your champion puppies, after all. It isn’t uncommon for a bitch to mate with more than one dog, you know. In fact, I’ve seen litters that have two entirely different sires.”

Cassie groaned. “Must you dog people always use the B word so causally?” Cassie scolded. “Even though I’d like to strangle the little floozy myself right now, I feel like a traitor allowing you to refer to Duchess as a bitch.”

“Well, you’d better get used to the sound of the B word, Miss Priss,” Dee teased. “I’m sure bitch will certainly cross Lenora’s mind if Duchess ends up with a litter of unregistered puppies.”

“That’s what I love about you, Dee,” Cassie scolded. “You’re always so supportive.”

Cassie made several more laps around the small room before she said, “I hate to even mention this, Dee. And don’t start throwing things, but I’ve heard there’s some type of shot…”

Dee sent Cassie a look that stopped her midsentence. “Yes, there is a ‘mismating’ shot available if that’s what you’re referring to, but I’d never use it personally. It can be detrimental to the bitch’s health.”

Cassie frowned. “So, what are we going to do now?”

Dee leaned against the examining table, displaying her best I’m-the-doctor-you’re-the-buffoon face. “Well, we certainly can’t take a chance that Duchess might be exposed again before the proper sire arrives,” Dee said. “I think you should leave Duchess here with me. I know one of the breeder’s stipulations was that you keep the dogs in a home environment instead of a kennel, but it makes much more sense for me to supervise the breeding here. I have the facilities to keep the dogs confined, and I can keep an eye on both of them in case there are any complications.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “And what am I supposed to tell the breeder? The man was rude enough when I called to inform him that Duchess’s trainer was in the hospital and that I’d be taking care of the dogs in his absence.”

“Let me handle that part. I can come up with a long list of valid reasons why I should monitor the breeding.”

When Cassie nodded in agreement, Dee added, “And by the way. I’ll also need to examine your neighbor’s dog. I don’t want to take any chances where Duchess is concerned, Cassie. The dog could even be diseased, plus if he’s a mixed breed and their little rendezvous was successful, the puppies could be too large and Duchess could have trouble whelping.”

Cassie’s laugh was cynical. “Fat chance of that happening. I just had a screaming fit in the man’s front yard less than an hour ago.”

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.”