The newborn calf lay curled in the straw at its mother's feet while the proud mama started licking it clean. Outside the glowing warmth of the birthing barn, night pressed icy black fingers against the windows, and snow lay thick on the ground.

Exhausted but triumphant, Dr. Lily Munroe tried to ignore the itchy, someone-was-watching-her sensation on the back of her neck, a creepy feeling she'd had off and on for several hours. She patted the cow's russet-colored rump. "You have a beautiful bouncing baby boy. Good job, Peaches."

"Peaches?" a familiar husky voice said behind her. "She's not a pet, Doc."

The straw at her feet rustled as Lily whirled around, hand to her throat. "Damn it! You scared me to death!"

Tall, dark and annoying.

Derek Wright.

With one shoulder resting against the planked wall, he looked as though he'd been there awhile. His physical presence was like a hard punch to Lily's chest, and her stomach did its usual betraying flip-flop at the sight of six foot four inches of pure, potent male. His lean, handsome face was ruddy with the cold, his glossy dark hair mussed sexily by the wind she heard howling outside.

Beneath her fingertips she felt the hard pounding of her heart, and hoped to hell Derek couldn't hear it. And if he could that he'd attribute it to the fright he'd just given her. The adrenaline rush made her feel light-headed. She ruthlessly tamped down her body's visceral reaction to the sight of him as she started cleaning up her instruments and other birthing paraphernalia from around the stall.

"Sorry," he said, voice silky. "Didn't mean to spook you." He didn't look the least bit sorry, and she shot him a dark look. His lips twi...