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thought she heard faint music, a deep voice humming an old song—“Blue Moon.”
    She couldn’t remember the words, so she moved silently to the door and opened it a crack.
    But when she peered out, it was silent and Sam was gone. Only a blue moon, hanging ominously low, looked down at her.

Three

    Brittany pulled her hair back into a pony tail and ignored the hundreds of tiny curls that escaped the band, slipped into a comfortable pair of old blue jeans and a heavy knit sweater, and headed for the O’Malley Animal Clinic, nestled directly in the heart of Windermere, Maine.
    It didn’t matter that she hadn’t slept much the night before, had tossed and turned in the moon-bred shadows of her room, because she had everything back in order now. Her emotions were in check, her perspective on the day was fresh, and she was ready for work.
    The fact that Sam was exploring the Winters family still bothered her, on principle if nothing else. Her life was private. But it was her father Sam was interested in, after all, and she’d see to it that that’s where his interest stayed.
    And as for the man himself, well, he had caught her off guard, plain and simple. And it certainly wasn’t his fault he sent her hormones into orbit. It was a purely physical attraction. Probably. And she could certainly deal with that.
    But as she walked through the friendly, freshly painted clinic that had been a second home to her for nearlytwo years now. the resolve born in the shadowy darkness of her bedroom the night before began to weaken. “I should have simply taken the day off and gone to his office,” she muttered. “It would have worked better, certainly, and—”
    “Grumbling? Before the day has even begun?” Dr. Frank O’Malley sauntered into the room carrying a clipboard and wearing that wonderful broad smile that had endeared Brittany to the gray-haired veterinarian the very first time they met.
    “Oh, Doc, I’m sorry. I must have been talking to myself.”
    “Scolding yourself, I’d say.” He let his thick glasses slip clear down to the end of his nose, where they rested comfortably. “Now, that’s no way to begin the mornin’, my dear. Here you go.” He picked up a steaming cup of coffee from a small table near the door, poured a heaping portion of thick cream into it, and wrapped her cold fingers around it. “This’ll help. Far too early for whiskey or I’d put a dab of that in to help coax a smile back to that beautiful face.”
    She half-smiled and took a tentative sip of the coffee while she walked over to the counter. She looked out the window, then walked back again.
    Dr. Frank settled his short lumpy frame behind the desk and studied her over the rim of his glasses. “So, my lovely heiress, what’s on the schedule for today and what pulls you from beneath the downy quilts an hour early?”
    She glanced at the schedule she’d plucked from the desk and tapped her fingers briskly on the desktop. “Lots to do today, Dr. Frank. Thought maybe I’d get a head start. Some of the Petpals animals need baths. And I’ve made out a list of those that need your attention.”
    He groaned good-naturedly. “I could close down my own practice and work full-time keeping this Petpals outfit going.”
    She threw him a grin. “Well, why not? You know you get just as much satisfaction out of this as I do!”
    When she had approached Dr. Frank with the idea of starting Petpals a couple of years ago, he’d jumped right in, helping her put together a trust to fund it, finding wealthy donors, and providing an office for her above his back kennels. It was a delightful enterprise for both of them: she could leave her old job with Trust and Foundations and throw herself into something that involved direct contact with people every day, and he had the satisfaction of helping bring some sunlight to the folks at the rest homes.
    She glanced at Dr. Frank and saw he was looking keenly at her.
    “What’s on your mind today, love?”