Busting Loose by Kat Murray Page A

the exam room when she let patients in. In his back room, when she needed office supplies. Behind her desk, when she scheduled a patient. In the shelter, when she took a quick stretch and wanted to let out the big dogs for a fast run. She couldn’t avoid the man.
    And she didn’t want to. But she needed to, for the sake of her sanity, not to mention her job. How the heck could she concentrate on the all-important task of a successful adoption fair if her libido was busy figuring out ways to accidentally-on-purpose brush against the cute vet’s arm, or staring at him for ten minutes before realizing she’d lost track of time?
    It was embarrassing, she admitted as she zoned out, eyes locked on the framed poster of a puppy and kitten playing together in a grassy meadow. Jaycee had caught her at least once staring at his ass while he bent over a low file cabinet digging for paperwork. But she played it off like she’d just been staring into space, as she was now, as if she hadn’t even really seen Morgan and his nicely shaped behind. Hadn’t been fantasizing about squeezing said behind while he was on top of her, thrusting into her, making her moan like her ex-prostitute character, Trixie, on a sex bender and—
    The phone rang, and her elbow slammed into the keyboard as she jerked from her mental sabbatical. Crap. She really had to stop doing that.
    â€œBrowning Veterinary Clinic, how can I help you?” she answered, amazed her voice sounded as smooth as normal. Her heart was a jackhammer in her chest.
    There was a slight pause, and then a tentative woman’s voice asked, “Beatrice Muldoon?”
    â€œYes, this is she.” Who the hell would call her Beatrice?
    â€œThis is Cynthia Browning.”
    Who?
    â€œMorgan’s mother?”
    â€œOh! Oh yes, of course. I’m sorry.” She laughed weakly. “Afternoon brain lag.”
    â€œIt’s been a while, of course. How are you, dear?”
    The tone said she was asking to be polite, but would prefer to move the conversation along. “Just fine, thank you. Morgan’s with a patient right now, but I can—”
    â€œDon’t bother him,” she cut in. “I just wanted to ask you a quick favor.”
    Ho, boy. “Yes?” she asked, trying not to sound suspicious.
    â€œCould you make sure he eats something for dinner? He’s staying overnight tonight at the clinic, and he gets all lackadaisical about eating if someone doesn’t pester him from time to time.”
    She’d just bet he did. “I can make sure he’s got dinner before I leave for the night. No problem.”
    â€œThank you. That is a big weight off my mind.” She paused, drew in a breath as if she were going to say something, but nothing came.
    Bea counted to five, then asked, “Is there anything else?”
    â€œNo, no.” The answer was fast, a little breathless. “Thank you, dear.”
    You already said that. “Not a problem.” Bea hung up and leaned back in her chair. What was that all about? Was Morgan a big mama’s boy? Or was his mother just having trouble cutting the apron strings? He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who needed his mother to baby him.
    She checked her watch. Either way, it was definitely time to get some grub. It was coming up on seven, and they’d had an early lunch to accommodate a patient. The clinic was closed, and it was just the two of them until she headed home. Time to eat. She was starving.
    After calling in an order to Jo’s, and begging Jo to run it over so she wouldn’t have to leave, Bea went in search of Morgan.
    He was in his office, going over paperwork. She leaned in just a tad and watched the process. His brow furrowed, and his eyes squinted from time to time. Maybe he needed an eye exam, a new prescription. She’d ask later when the last time he’d made it to the eye doctor was. His pen was fast, scratching