Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

feral urges. He risked a quick glance up through his lashes and bit back a sigh. Okay, maybe not so inexplicable.
    In desperation, he sent a meaningful look over his shoulder to Mrs. Miller, who was still standing motionless except for the glittering hands flapping over her gaping mouth. At his unspoken but undeniable demand, she snapped to attention and grabbed the leash from Jordan, tugging and chastising Winston in a voice that— please God— had to have penetrated the thick animal if the shooters in Jordan's spine were any measure of success.
    Winston finally, with a great exhale of exasperation, responded to Mrs. Miller's pleas and shuffled forward only as far as necessary to make her stop. The, uh, victim was studying his legs as if afraid of what may have been left behind by the animal. The whole thing had lasted less than a minute, but it had played out in that long, painful, super slow-mo torture reserved for only the most awkward of situations.
    Jordan stood with what dignity he could, horrified to find himself almost flustered. That hadn't happened to him since his teen years, when he'd struggled to keep his cool around Bobby Braggar in the high school locker room. He reminded himself sternly that he was, for all intents and purposes, a grown-up now, supposedly bearing some semblance of control over his nearly thirty-six-year-old penis. Still, he barely managed to acknowledge Mrs. Miller when she tugged Winston out the door. He took a deep breath before refocusing on the object of Winston's new-found adoration.
    "I am so sorry about that, Mister...?" He was almost satisfied with the quiet calm of his own voice, especially since inside he still struggled to pull his professionalism around himself like the lab coat he wore. The one barely protecting him from an ugly sexual harassment lawsuit at the moment. It wasn't easy, he had to admit. Six feet of lean, tightly wound male stood before him looking like he'd just been molested. Which he kind of had been.
    "It's just Cal." God, listen to that husky voice. Jordan's skin immediately resumed its tingling from the kneeling at the man's feet thing. "Calvin Sherbrook. No mister." The man still was not smiling and he didn't offer his hand. In fact, he frowned even more when Jordan tried a polite smile of his own. Even as it faded, though, the vet found himself holding eye contact, seeing... something in those almost fathomless eyes. Something he needed to think about later because they were rapidly becoming quite fathomable. In fact, they were starting to look downright pissed.
    Recognition dawned too slowly. "Right. Cal." Jordan pulled himself together—again—like the professional he was supposed to be. "You'd be here for Nina's—your grandmother's—pup. She told me to expect you."
    He was suddenly aware of the not so subtle whispers coming from his assistant and the receptionist, the two gossips thick as thieves. He could tell by the tension in Cal's shoulders that he was also well aware of their attention.
    "Ladies," Jordan interrupted their chatter, his voice firm and authoritative. His I-am-The-Boss Voice. "One of you can get the dog while the other grabs several food samples for Mr. Sherbrook."
    He sensed Cal tense next to him but ignored it. He probably objected to the tone he'd taken with his staff, not that it was any of his business. But then again, maybe he'd liked it. Jordan firmly scolded his rearing Id, usually buried much deeper than this, before returning to adulthood once again.
    "I do apologize for the dog, Cal." Jordan the grown-up was back in business. A resounding "whew" echoed in his head. He ignored that, too. "I have no idea what got into him. He's usually so... well, lazy."
    He shook his head and combed his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. Hair that he chose to leave natural, thankyouverymuch, because it contributed to the more seasoned—and therefore apparently more competent—image he knew appealed to his clients.
    "You know..." Small talk. Fill the awkward void. "That's the same thing Winston did when he met me." He shook his head, chuckling a little at the memory. "He's eased up slightly since then, but he still hovers. I've never seen him act that way around anyone else."
    A black, perfectly arched brow lifted. "Guess I'm just lucky?" Cal's lips relaxed slightly in what might have been a small release of his irritation. Or maybe they were just getting tired from all the frowning.
    Jordan laughed. "I wouldn't go that