Carmen tore her gaze from his face again. "Mr. Ed, the talking horse," she said casually. "I know what you mean, though. Animals seem to sense your mood. And they accept you no mater what."

He laced fingers behind his head and stretched his back, glancing around at the herd as he spoke. "I never knew there were so many goat breeds."

What was it about him that served as a magnet for her eyes? It wasn't as though she ogled every good-looking man she saw. She eagerly latched on to his comment, hoping to divert her own mind to something less disturbing.

"Oh, there are a lot more breeds. Let's see." She held a hand up in front of her face and started naming them. "Oberhasli, Pygmy, Nigerian Dwarf, Angora . . . that's the one everybody confuses with a sheep . . ." her voice drifted off as she realized she had finally lost his attention. Why didn't she feel victorious? Wasn't this what she was trying to achieve? The truth was it was nice having someone even act interested.

In the next instant she realized a doe standing away from the herd had attracted his attention. He moved toward it cautiously.

"I think this one is getting close to delivering."

Even from a distance it was obvious that his calculation was accurate. Years might have elapsed since his last formal training, but Alex certainly had an instinct for veterinary medicine.

As they approached, the goat pawed the ground and called softly. On each side of her tail were deep hollows and her stomach was low and distended. It was time to put her into a kidding stall.

The friendly herd followed them, crowding the expectant mother. Carmen left Alex with the doe and ducked into the dairy, returning with a scoop of alfalfa pellets she distributed in the long narrow feed trough along the wall. Dodging a caprine avalanche, she joined Alex again.

"We need to get her to a kidding stall."

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A cacophony of bleats, chomping and scuffling of hooves drowned out her words. Alex leaned down, resting a hand on her waist as he tried to separate her words from the noise of the feeding goats.

Maybe it was the faint smell of expensive cologne, or the feel of his warm hand through her blouse, or even the fact that it had been so long since anyone had taken an interest in her work. Whatever the cause, her heart did a flip-flop and warmth flooded her face. She gently removed his hand from her waist and stepped away from him, repeating the statement in a voice close to a shout.




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