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Jeri’s wide hips sashayed away with her usual cheerful efficiency. Some days he wished for a dozen Jeris. Days like today.
    One hand around a slim muzzle, Trace slid a needle into the dachshund on the table. The clinic was busier today than yesterday. Every member of his staff was moving as quickly as possible but the line in the waiting room grew longer. His thoughts flashed to Cheyenne Rhodes, the woman he’d tried to hire last night. Too bad she’d turned him down. He would have hired three of her, bad attitude and all.
    Gently, he opened the dog’s mouth and shone a flashlight inside for the owner to see. “She has a bad tooth that needs to come out but not until the infection resolves. This shot will get her started but you’ll need to give her some pills at home.”
    â€œSo that’s why she won’t eat.”
    â€œWould you?”
    The teen shuddered. “No way. Poor baby.”
    Once Trace was finished, the teen gathered the dog into her arms and left. As he walked her down the hallway to the reception desk, Cheyenne Rhodes came striding through the entrance. As had happened last night, his heart jump-started. The bristly woman had a strange effect on his cardiac muscle.
    â€œAfternoon,” he said, suddenly not as busy as he thought he was. “Here to see the puppies?”
    â€œNot really.” She tossed her hair back in a self-conscious gesture. “I mean, I’d like to, but that’s not why I’m here.”
    â€œNo?” Trace felt a bewildering zing of energy. “All right, then. Come on back. We’ll talk while you say hello to the pups. They’ll like that.”
    He led the way down the hall, past a room in which his bubbly red-haired assistant, Jilly Fairmont, was grooming a poodle, and made a left turn toward the kennel area. “I hope you don’t mindthe smell of bleach. We disinfect the pens and floors a couple of times a day.”
    â€œSmells clean to me.”
    Her acceptance pleased him. Some women, specifically Margo, curled her nose and avoided the kennel as much as possible. He should have understood, but her reaction had always hurt his feelings.
    â€œHere they are. Frog and Toad. My daughter named them after her favorite book characters.” He squatted before the wire kennel and clicked up the latch. Zoey named all the animals, no matter how brief their stay. “Hey, little dudes. Look who came to see you.”
    His shoes scraped the concrete as he pivoted toward Cheyenne. She crouched down as well, bringing her lean, jean-clad form close to his. He was a Christian but he was also a man, and it was difficult not to notice how pretty she looked in snug jeans and fitted top.
    Handing her one of the pups, he kept the other, and watched as Cheyenne raised the animal to her cheek and closed her eyes. The pup rewarded her kindness with a few licks.
    Jilly poked her head into the kennel. Rust-colored freckles stood out against pale white skin. “Doctor, we’re ready in the surgery suite when you are.”
    â€œBe right there.” He glanced at his visitor. “Sorry, I have to get back to work. You can stay with the puppies as long as you like.”
    She rose with him, still cradling the small dog. “Before you go—about that job you offered last night…”
    He stopped in his tracks, surprised but hoping. “Are you asking if the offer still stands?”
    She bit down on her lip before saying a reluctant “Yes.”
    Trace studied the darkly pretty woman before him. She didn’t want to take the job, but she was going to. He probably should resent her attitude, but he was just glad she’d come back. He suspected that Cheyenne needed the job for more reasons than apaycheck. Maybe the Lord had sent her. Maybe she needed the warm, accepting love of cats and dogs.
    And he could use the help. Maybe he also wanted to know her better. For ministry purposes of course. And if