Chapter One #2
As if she needed someone to help her stand when she was used to practicing lunges and twists for her fencing hobby!
Before she could rise, though, he leaned down, grasped her elbow, and lifted her as though she were a bag of feathers.
He released her immediately, but the warmth lingered where his hand had been.
This close, his mahogany-colored hair looked soft as silk as it touched the collar of his white shirt, and she could see his dark eyes were rimmed with hazel.
His wide, full mouth quirked in a half-grin and she realized she was staring.
Sophie took a step back, all too aware of the massive male strength of him and his slightly woodsy scent.
Oddly, it was a pleasantly intoxicating smell.
He was just what she did not need. Good-looking, rakish men who looked like they belonged on the cover of a romance novel generally should stay there.
That way a woman could look and not get hurt.
Robert was drop-dead gorgeous too. Look where that had gotten her.
Michael McCain probably had dozens of women tweeting him hourly.
“I didn’t realize you were an acquaintance of Mr. Smith’s,” she said.
Michael nodded, still looking somewhat amused, as though he knew what she was thinking. “I’m working on a project and I needed his help on medieval weaponry.”
Sophie glanced at the wall that held an arrangement of swords: Roman spathas, Middle-eastern scimitars, French rapiers, military sabers, English long swords, and a great Scottish claymore.
Alongside the weapons was a picture of St. George slaying the dragon.
She had always felt sorry for the dragon.
She turned her gaze back to Michael. “Are you a reporter?”
“I’m more interested in research,” he said. “I have a totally useless degree in medieval religions, which…” He pointed to the collection of swords. “…often led to wars.”
“This collection seems to be quite popular these days,” she answered and turned to Mr. Smith. “Didn’t you have a reporter in here doing an article for some magazine?”
“Ah, yes. That nice Mr. Caldwell. I can hardly wait to read the article! Actually, you should meet him, Sophie. I believe he said he has a preference for the rapier to spar with, too.”
“Too?” Michael raised a questioning eyebrow. “Do you fence?”
Sophie nodded. “It’s a good way to relieve stress.”
His mouth quirked up again. “I can think of much more enjoyable ways to relieve stress than to be literally on one’s toes, anticipating your rival’s next move.”
He had just described the way she felt around him, although he didn’t know it. “I find the concentration takes my mind off more serious things, like saving animals.”
As if on cue, Princess whimpered and began to pant.
Sophie knelt down, soothing the dog in low tones as she pressed gently on the abdomen.
The puppies were definitely squirming. “It’s time,” she said and reached for her bag, taking out supplies.
Knowing Mr. Smith was squeamish about blood, she looked up.
“I’ll let you know as soon as Princess has all the pups out. ”
He nodded. “Michael, shall we have a brandy in the library while we wait?”
Michael shook his head and squatted down beside Sophie. “I’ll help,” he said. “I think this little one will need it.”
For a moment, Sophie studied him. Had Mr. Smith told him of the lab’s size? She doubted it. And then she almost smiled as she took her sterile instruments out of their wrappers. She’d just see how Mr. Macho Man would do once the blood came.
****
Sophie Cameron was an enigma and Michael liked nothing better—well, sex was better—than to solve a puzzle.
For one thing, she wore an oversized T-shirt over loosely fitting khaki pants almost as though she wanted to hide the luscious curves of her hips and the swell of full breasts.
That intrigued him, since most women with a figure like hers would flaunt everything they had.
She also used minimal makeup, which only enhanced her high cheekbones, straight little nose, and full, generous mouth.
A touch of mascara highlighted the startling bright blue of her eyes and he wished, fervently, that he could release her hair from the confines of the ponytail and let it fall in cascades around her face. Did the woman not know how hot she was?
Another interesting thing was her total non-responsiveness to him.
The night he had taken her to Sara’s ranchero to see about the wolf—well, a healed Lucas Ramsey, actually—she had been strictly business.
Had barely returned his smile. Not that he boasted about conquests, but over the centuries, few women had turned him down.
He was a warlock, after all, and charm was a natural, inherited trait that, unfortunately, also made women with jealous husbands throw caution to the wind, like that time in Cornwall…
But that was hundreds of years ago and he had learned to avoid married women. He frowned. Sophie wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t married. Maybe that was the reason she didn’t respond to his attempt at flirting?
“What kind of work does your husband do?” he asked casually.
She kept her eyes on the terrier, but her breath hitched just a bit. “I’m currently single,” she said.
“Divorced? Widowed?”
“I’m busy right now. Hand me the KY jelly. The first pup’s breaching.”
Michael picked up the tube, thinking what other much more interesting uses it had, and gave it to her.
Sophie was on her elbows and knees, affording him a very sweet view of her nicely rounded ass, as she encouraged the terrier in a throaty voice.
His wayward shaft went rock hard. Was she teasing him with that sultry tone and a pose that would make any man want to rip those pants off and leave her female flesh exposed to him?
Sweat beaded on his forehead at the thought of how nice that would be.
He swallowed hard to keep from saying so.
“If you’re going to be sick, go join Mr. Smith. I can handle this,” Sophie said.
So much for her being a tease. She looked thoroughly disgusted with him. Not that he could blame her. Here he was, thinking like a besotted, untried lad, when she was working to save the little dog’s life.
He slipped over next to her. “Let me help,” he said.
She gave him one quick glance and nodded as she inserted forceps to gently tug the first puppy out. “Just pet Princess and keep her calm. Her squirming isn’t helping and I have my hands full.”
Michael laid a hand on the terrier’s head and sent her a silent message of tranquility along with soothing golden light.
He sensed something besides the dog’s essence, though.
A faint blue mist mixed with the terrier’s aura.
Sophie? She had an astral connection? Interesting.
Princess’s panting lessened and her muscle contractions strengthened. The second puppy plopped out.
“She did that one on her own,” Sophie said with a note of surprise. “I didn’t think she’d be strong enough.”
“How many more?” Michael asked as he watched her hands, steady and gentle.
She wore no nail polish, simply kept her nails short and buffed.
It was strange how appealing he found her hands to be.
It wasn’t a usual part of female anatomy that he paid a lot of attention to.
And the bluish mist… Was she aware of her ancient powers?
“Just one. I took a sonogram a few weeks ago,” Sophie said and picked up the forceps again, but before she needed them, the third puppy slid through the canal. “That’s it, Princess. You can relax now and we’ll wait for the afterbirth.”
The dog wagged her tail once and licked Michael’s hand.
He sent another soothing stream of light to her and then picked up one of the towels Sophie had put down.
“I’ll clean the pups,” he said as he picked up the first one and wiped the sticky film off it.
“You go tell Mr. Smith he’s a proud grandfather or whatever. ”
Sophie gave him a strange look as she got up. “You actually stuck with me on this.” She tilted her head as if studying him and then, quite unexpectedly, smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Michael answered, surprised a little at the tiny sparkle of orange he’d just seen in her peacefully blue-green aura. Orange sprang from the sacral chakra, the center for physical attraction.
Maybe, beneath that cool, calm surface of remoteness, interest lay there?
He definitely planned to find out.
****
An hour and a half later, Sophie got into her truck and headed home. Mr. Smith had been ecstatic that all three puppies were alive and nursing and that Princess had required only a few stitches. His very generous tip would allow her to add on another row of kennels at the clinic.
And Michael—well, she had been sure he would continue to flirt with her and expect her to be grateful for the attention.
Good-looking, muscular men were very aware of the effect they had on women—she only had to think of Robert to remember how very effective he had been—but Michael had surprised her.
After the puppies were born, he had cleaned them up, taken care of the afterbirth, and made sure Princess was comfortable.
Then he had asked Sophie questions about the clinic and her love of animals.
He had even seemed genuinely interested.
She glanced at her wrist watch. It was nearly nine o’clock, but she wanted to stop by the clinic and check on an older dog they were boarding.
It would take only a few minutes and then she could head home.
As she exited off I-30, a brilliant flash filled the air.
Lightning? There hadn’t been any thunderstorms forecast. And the night was clear, or at least as much as she could make out, with all the city lights.