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and theslight swelling under her eye, she was to him absurdly beautiful for a woman who’d been through all that in one day. Her black hair fell to her shoulders in shimmering curls that looked artfully tousled rather than mussed, and her durable clothing showed few signs of the punishment it had taken.
    “I thought the law guaranteed me one phone call,” she complained. “That’s not considered official business?”
    “Guess not.” Tucker cocked his head to listen to the cacophony of ringing phones, buzzers, office machines, and voices. “From their side, I suppose our contacting members of our family ranks pretty low on the importance chart right now. Business is pretty good today.”
    She puffed at a lock of hair that had fallen over her eye. “It’s definitely crazy out there.”
     
    A few minutes later Tucker sat behind the desk filling out a form and trying to compose a concluding statement while Samantha paced from one side of the room to the other. Every few seconds she glanced at the wall clock. Blue’s competition started at three, and it was already two forty. Even if she were released right then, she couldn’t reach the fairgrounds in time. The realization brought a lump of disappointment to her throat. She and Blue had worked so hard to prepare for this day. Now she would miss seeing him win the championship.
    “So you’re a vet,” she mused aloud to the top of Tucker’s bent head. His hair was the rich color of homemade fudge that hadn’t been whipped long enough to lose its gloss. “I’m surprised you didn’t mention that.”
    He glanced up, his blue eyes twinkling above hisswollen, discolored, and off-center nose. “At what point—before I hit the guy, or afterward?”
    “I realize it wasn’t exactly a great time to exchange personal information.” Pivoting on her heel to change direction, she added, “It just seems strange, is all. When we were talking later, you mentioned volunteering at the rodeo because it was good for business, but you never said what your business was.”
    “I figured it went without saying.”
    “Why did you think that?”
    “Because I showed up carrying a satchel, and I’m wearing a name badge that says Tucker Coulter, DVM?”
    “I never saw a satchel, and you’re not wearing a badge.”
    He glanced down and shoved a finger into a hole in his shirt above the right breast pocket. “I’ll be damned. It was there earlier. The jerk ripped it off.”
    He looked so upset that Samantha said, “I’m sure they’ll give you a new one.”
    “Not possible. It’s irreplaceable.”
    “The name badge?”
    “No,” he replied, sounding exasperated, “my lucky shirt!”
    Samantha examined the garment in question. It looked older than the hills and much the worse for wear. “Your lucky shirt?”
    “Yes.” He plucked at the hole again. “Good things always happen when I wear this shirt.”
    He’d done it again—made her smile. “I hate to point it out, but I don’t think it brought you any luck today.”
    Frowning, he tugged at the rip again. Then he glancedup at her and his expression cleared. “I don’t know about that. I met you, didn’t I?”
    Samantha chose to ignore that. “So do you specialize in large animals?”
    He signed the form, tossed down the pen, and rocked back on the chair. “I’m working my way into that, yes. My brother and I are partners at a clinic. He enjoys the small-animal end of it, and I love the fieldwork. I’m especially fond of working with horses.”
    Samantha gave him a thoughtful study. “Are you any good?”
    His firm mouth tipped into a grin. “I’m the best. Unfortunately it takes a while to build a reputation, and I’m just getting started.”
    “No conceit in your family, because you have it all?”
    He chuckled. “You asked, I gave you an honest answer. I’m not merely good; I’m phenomenal.”
    Samantha couldn’t help but laugh. What was it about this man that she found so difficult to