All Critters Great and Small - Romslinger

Indeterminate leave of absence.

That's what his boss Captain Simon Banks had called it. Ex-police detective James Ellison called it failing.

No son of mine will be a failure. I expect you to excel in everything you do, Jimmy. Everything. Do you understand?

He flinched at the echo of his father's stinging words, spoken over twenty-five years ago. Of course, that was the one thing father and son agreed on--both hated failures. Jim shook his head to dispel the razor-sharp memories.

The steady drone of his pickup lay as a comforting backdrop to the almost overwhelming scents of the mountain air and vegetation that scuttled in through Jim's open window. The air streamed across the curved brim of his Jags cap and over the dark glasses covering his squinted eyes. Even wearing sunglasses and with the sun hidden behind gunmetal gray clouds, Jim's too-sensitive eyes burned.

Six months ago, he'd been forced to leave the Cascade Police Department. Odd sensitivities to lights, sounds, textures and tastes began to play havoc with his characteristic iron control. No longer could Jim Ellison work alone, and soon it progressed so far that Jim had deemed himself no longer able to function as a cop at all. The private investigation business had been a last ditch effort to keep his head above water, the bill collectors at bay, and his sanity intact.

Two out of three wasn't bad.

Why had he taken this job? Why hadn't he accepted the philandering husband case instead? The woman had been loaded, and was willing to pay a bonus--a paid weekend in Las Vegas with her. He doubted he would've seen much of the casinos.

Maybe he still had a principle or two left. Or maybe she hadn't tempted him. Either way he had politely ushered her out of his small, windowless office and called Lew Sandburg back to accept his job. Sandburg had lost touch with his nephew Blair and wanted to mend fences with his only living relative before Lew's terminal cancer ended his life. The only problem was the prodigal nephew had changed his name and dropped out of sight in the seven years since Lew had last seen him. The elder Sandburg also insisted that he only wanted Jim to find his nephew, but not tell Blair that his uncle was searching for him. Instead, Jim was to call Lew when he found the younger man and Sandburg would go to his nephew. For some reason, Sandburg's secrecy bothered Jim. But rent, utilities and groceries couldn't be paid with gut feelings. He needed a job--a paying job. And Sandburg had sweetened the pot with a bonus, to be paid when Jim found his sole heir.

Through some not-quite-legit channels, Jim had gotten a lead. It was that which had taken him over three hundred miles away from Cascade to a tiny town on the eastern side of the state.

A movement off the side of the road far ahead caught Jim's attention. His eyes focused on a brown creature caught between strands of barbed wire. As he neared, high-pitched screels made Jim cringe. Grimacing, he drew to a stop on the gravel shoulder of the two-lane road.

"Damn," he swore.

A hawk was caught between the lines of barbed wire, its wings sprawled in awkward positions and one leg twisted in the fence. Jim stepped out of his truck to get a better look at the wounded bird. There was no way he'd be able to get the creature untangled alone. He needed help--preferably someone who knew his or her way around raptors.

He jumped back into the cab and continued down the road, hoping to return in time to save the creature from a painful death.

_________________________________

"Here you go, sweetheart. She's as good as new," Dr. Jacob Blair Sanborn said, squatting down in front of the young girl to hand her the kitten.

"Thank you," she said with a huge smile and sparkling hazel eyes.

"You're welcome, Tara. Just don't let Lady play with any more twisties."

"I promise, Dr. Blair," Tara said solemnly, hugging her purring pet to her chest and laying her cheek on its fur.

"Thank you so much, Blair," Lisa Finch, Tara's mother, said. "When Lady started choking, I didn't know what to do."

The veterinarian laid a hand on Lisa's shoulder and smiled reassuringly. "You did fine. You brought Lady here and you kept Tara calm."

Lisa nodded then smiled. "The least I can do for Tara's hero is have you over for dinner. Tonight?"

Blair gazed at the woman he'd been seeing for the longest time he'd dated anyone, and grinned. "Sounds good. I'm always up for a home-cooked meal, especially when the cook is as beautiful as you."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." The look in her eyes implied the opposite.

"Is Dr. Blair coming over for dinner?" Tara interrupted.

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away, sweetheart," Blair said, then asked Lisa, "What time?"

"The usual--six thirty?" she suggested.

"I'll be there."

After a final round of good-byes, Lisa, Tara, and Lady left the small clinic. Blair wandered into the reception area where Abby was addressing postcard reminders for pet vaccinations.

"Hey, Doc," Abby greeted him as she glanced up from her work. "I take it the prognosis was good."

"The patient will live to play with twisties another day." Blair removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Still having problems sleeping?" Abby asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

Blair shrugged, unwilling to discuss his recent nightmares even with his closest friend, who was also his only employee. "I slept a few hours last night."

"Maybe you should talk to someone about what's bothering you."

"Nothing's bothering me," Blair said sharply, then regretted his impatience--and lie--immediately. He replaced his glasses. "Sorry."

Abby held up her hands. "Don't shoot the messenger, Doc. I really think you should talk to someone. If I didn't have Roy to unload on once in a while, I'd turn into a basket-case."

He forced a smile. "What do you mean, 'turn into a basket-case'--you are a basket-case."

She threw a pen at him, which he caught after a few moments of juggling.

"Well, I know you're not sexually frustrated," Abby said. "You and Lisa have been the hot topic of discussion at Ethel's Diner during the morning coffee klatch. They're taking bets on when you're going to propose."

He shook his head in fond exasperation, not surprised. "Small towns. You gotta love 'em."

Blair, being the town vet, and Lisa, the owner of the town's antique store, made excellent grist for the gossip mill. They'd been a couple for over six months now and folks were starting to wonder when the compatible pair would walk down the aisle. Blair had been asking himself the same question over the past few weeks. It seemed the perfect match. He cared for Lisa and her daughter Tara a great deal, and given the list of eligible women in town, he definitely had the best of the sparse number. Although it wasn't exactly the life he'd envisioned for himself when he'd been a too-young, idealistic college student, it would be a comfortable life. And he'd finally have a home, something Blair had yearned for, ever since he could remember.

But there was something holding him back from asking Lisa to marry him--something that was fueling his nighttime visions. Blair shook himself free of the lingering anxiety his nightmares inspired. "When's my next appointment?" he asked, looking over Abby's shoulder at the calendar.

"Your last two of the day canceled. Mrs. Dobie forgot she had a hair appointment for herself, which took precedence over Precious' check-up, and Tom Clarence got called out of town for business so he rescheduled Casey's shots for next week." Abby turned the page to the next day. "Tomorrow you'll be at the Harris' place vaccinating and castrating the spring calves."

"Joy," Blair said with little enthusiasm. He loved his job, but knew he'd spend the weekend recuperating from the general stiffness and bruises he'd receive from the miniature beeves during tomorrow's job. Phil Harris would separate and rope the calves, but Blair needed an assistant who could hold the young cows down while he took care of business. He sighed. Such was the life of a small town veterinarian.

"Next week you have the Saddlers' new calves. I'm sure there'll be others, too," Abby reminded. "Maybe you can hire someone for a few weeks to help you out, Doc."

"I've thought about it, but there's no one I trust enough who needs a part time job."

Abby thought for a moment then nodded in resignation. "You're right. Anyone I'd trust already has a job."

The sound of tires over gravel alerted them to an arrival and Blair glanced out the window to see an unfamiliar blue and white pickup. The driver braked sharply in front of the clinic. Blair strode to the door and flung it open. A tall stranger wearing jeans, denim shirt with a gray t-shirt beneath it, and a ball cap jumped out of the truck and stalked toward him.

"Can I help you?" Blair asked as the man approached.

"I hope so," the stranger replied in a clipped voice. "A hawk got wrapped up in some barbed wire."

Blair stiffened. "Where?"

"About five miles down the road. It's caught pretty good and I didn't want to take a chance of hurting it more."

"Good thinking. Let me get some supplies and you can show me where." Blair dashed into his back room and grabbed the medical bag he kept ready for emergencies. He snatched a large towel and blanket, and tucked them under his arm. Returning to the reception area, he called over his shoulder to his assistant, "Set up the largest kennel for a raptor."

Abby nodded. "Good luck, Doc."

Blair raised a hand and followed the stranger to his truck. He deposited the blanket and towel in the truck bed then jumped into the passenger seat, his medical bag in his lap. Small rocks flew behind the tires as the stranger punched the accelerator.

"Whoa, easy man," Blair said, grabbing onto the dash with one hand and the armrest with the other.

"Sorry." The man glanced at Blair, but the vet couldn't see his eyes, which were hidden behind dark lenses.

Blair waited for him to say more, but he only kept his attention on the road ahead as he drove at a little-less-than-breakneck speed.

"I'm Dr. Jacob Sanborn," Blair introduced himself, breaking the awkward silence.

The driver turned sharply toward him, but again the damn sunglasses kept Blair from seeing what he might be thinking.

"Jim Ellison," he finally reciprocated.

"You're not from around here."

"That's right." Ellison gave his attention back to the two-lane road.

The man's curt manner sent warning bells off in Blair's mind. For so long Blair had been wary of strangers but in the past couple of years he'd grown less cautious. He'd become too comfortable in the sleepy little town. He wrapped his sweat-dampened hand around the door handle. "Where are you from?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

"Cascade."

Blair's heart went into overdrive. He considered taking a chance and jumping out of the moving truck, but Ellison was no slouch in the speed department. He was definitely going over the sixty-mile-per-hour speed limit. Blair would just have to keep calm and cool. Besides, he wasn't certain Ellison was one of them. It could simply be coincidence.

Riiiight.

"I've heard of it," Blair said neutrally.

Ellison tilted his head, as if listening to something. "We're almost there, Chief."

Blair managed to nod casually. Cascade was where he'd gotten his undergraduate degree in anthropology and was a year into his master's program when Naomi had been murdered. His life at Rainier University and his dreams of becoming an anthropologist had ended then. In fact, everything had changed then. From the long hair he'd had since he was fifteen to his goodwill clothing to his ability to pick up and move within a day's notice. Now he wore khaki trousers and polo shirts, and had roots that were deepening each day. His one concession had been to let his hair start growing out again.

"There," Ellison announced, pointing ahead and to the right.

Startled, Blair squinted, trying to see what Ellison did. "I can't--" As they drew closer, a brown shape coalesced. "Okay, got it." His shoulders slumped with relief. Ellison couldn't be one of them--he wouldn't have taken the time to help an injured bird. Blair's professional side took over and he grimaced. "You're right. It looks in bad shape."

Ellison nodded grimly. "I hope you can do something."

"Me too, man."

The truck jerked to a halt alongside the road and Blair could see the red-tailed hawk clearly. It wasn't moving; it could already be dead. He jumped out, his medical bag in hand. Ellison joined him, the towel and blanket from the truck bed gathered under an arm.

"We go easy and don't make any sudden movements," Blair said. "If he's still alive, he's scared and we don't want to create any more stress, which will make him more dangerous."

"I don't know how it can be dangerous, Chief," Ellison said, his jaw muscle knotting and unknotting. "It doesn't even have enough strength to move."

"You'd be surprised." Blair led the way, watching where he placed his feet as he neared the injured bird. Once close enough, he did a visual exam then gently touched the bird's back. The hawk let out a loud screech and ineffective wings flapped weakly. "I'm going to need the towel, man."

When Ellison didn't reply, Blair turned to see him doubled over, his hands over his ears. Blair's mouth gaped and he squatted down in front of the man. He gripped Jim's arms. "Hey, Ellison, what's going on, man? Are you sick? What is it?"

Jim flinched and Blair instinctively lowered his voice. "Listen to me, Ellison. What's wrong? Are you epileptic? Is something wrong with your ears? C'mon, talk to me, man."

Ellison visibly drew himself together and straightened slowly, easing his hands from his ears. His face was chalk white and Blair wondered if he had a human patient, in addition to the wounded hawk.

"I'm okay, Chief. My ears are just a little sensitive." Ellison attempted a smile that fell flat.

"Your eyes, too?" At Ellison's startled look, Blair elaborated. "It's cloudy and you haven't removed your shades."

The older man's lips thinned to a grim line. "We'd better take care of the bird before it starts storming."

His curiosity piqued by Jim Ellison, Blair felt the long-absent thrill of solving a mystery. In his previous life as an anthropologist, he'd loved the excitement of deciphering the unknown. He'd even been accused of being overly enthusiastic, but Blair hadn't cared. There was so much to be learned. But as a veterinarian, the work was usually routine, without the adventure of discovery. He hoped Ellison stuck around long enough to talk to--he had some questions he'd like to ask him.

Blair nodded and rose, then offered a hand to Ellison who accepted it after a moment's hesitation.

"Now I need you to place the towel over the hawk's head and hold it there," Blair said. "I'll have to get its leg untangled from the wire."

The two men worked seamlessly together. Jim kept a firm hold on the hawk as Blair, wearing gloves and using wire cutters from his medical bag, untangled and snipped the wire surrounding the bird of prey.

Finally, the hawk was free but it was obviously badly injured. Blood oozed from numerous cuts on its body and wings, and the foot of the leg that had been caught was set at an odd angle, telling Blair it was broken. He cut some strips of Vetrap tape and wound them around the foot, hoping that would immobilize it until they could get back to his office and he could properly examine the bird. Then they wrapped the blanket around the hawk so the razor-like talons and strong beak didn't slash either of the men and Ellison carried it back to the truck.

Blair followed with his bag in hand and the towel over his shoulder. He was impressed with Ellison's innate gentleness, which seemed at odds with his outward impassiveness.

"Should I drive?" Blair asked.

At first, he thought Ellison would refuse then he gave one short nod. "Just be careful. Sweetheart's a classic."

Blair grinned. He hadn't pegged Ellison as the type of man to name his truck. "I learned how to drive in a junker--uh, classic, like this one."

One corner of Ellison's lips lifted and again Blair wished he could see the man's eyes. He opened the passenger door and helped Ellison get situated with the blanket-shrouded bird on his lap. Striding around to the other side, Blair left his medical bag in the truck bed.

Once in the driver's seat, Blair found Ellison had left the keys in the ignition. He started the motor and made a U-turn on the desolate road, then drove back to his office in comfortable silence.

Blair ushered Jim into an examination room, past Abby who was still at her desk. Ellison set the bird on the stainless steel table.

Abby appeared in the doorway, her belly round with an eight month pregnancy. "Do you need some help, Doc?"

"Yes, but I don't want you in here. Can't take a chance on that baby getting hurt," Blair said. He glanced up at Ellison. "Do you think you can give me a hand?"

"I was a medic in the army," he volunteered.

"Good enough." At least Ellison wouldn't run out screaming if things got a little messy. "Abby, get him my heavy leather gloves. They're in my office."

The pregnant woman shuffled away and returned a few moments later, handing the gloves to Ellison.

"Put them on," Blair ordered Jim. "I'm going to have you hold him while I check out the damage." He watched Ellison don the gloves. "You might want to take off the shades, too."

For a moment, Blair thought he'd refuse, but then Jim removed them, blinking in the artificial light of the room. The dark pinpoints of his pupils were surrounded by irises the color of a summer sky. For a moment, all Blair could do was stare at Jim's brilliant blue-gray eyes. Mentally shaking himself, he hoped Jim didn't notice his momentary fascination.

"Eyes all right?" Blair asked.

"Yeah, fine."

"Okay, let's get this blanket off."

As they unwrapped the hawk, it began to move about more and shriek in high squeals. Blair noticed Ellison's jaw muscle flex and unflex as deep creases etched his brow.

For the next hour, Ellison held the bird while Blair cared for the hawk's injuries. Blair had to call the raptor center in Kennewick for information on medication for the wounded animal, but managed to ease the hawk's suffering with an injection which made it drowsy. Since Blair wasn't licensed with the Fish and Wildlife Service, he couldn't keep the hawk at his clinic. However, the raptor center was too short-handed to pick up the bird that evening, but would send someone out the next morning.

Finally, Blair had Ellison carry the groggy hawk to a large cage and the older man smoothly set the bird on the branch-like perch within the bars. As he withdrew, Ellison gently swept the back of his hand down the bird's feathered chest.

Blair closed the cage's door. Ellison wiped the sweat from his brow, grimacing as he did.

"Sit down," Blair ordered.

"Why?"

"You're as pale as a ghost."

"I'm all right," Ellison growled.

He took a step and swayed. Blair caught his arm and guided him to a nearby stool.

"You're not all right. Do you have the flu or something?" Blair asked.

"No." The man's teeth were locked tighter than a bank vault. "It's only a headache."

"Migraine?"

Ellison shrugged. "Maybe."

"I may not be a people doctor, but I'll bet some aspirin or Tylenol would help."

Magically, Abby appeared in the doorway with a bottle of aspirin and a paper cup of water. "Here you go."

"An assistant who can read my mind," Blair commented. "What more could a doctor ask for?"

Abby snorted. "I'm leaving for the day, and I'll only be in tomorrow morning." Blair frowned and opened his mouth, but Abby beat him. "We're leaving at one to go to my parents' place for their fortieth anniversary."

Blair slapped his forehead. "I forgot."

"Not surprising, Doc. That's why I reminded you." Abby stepped into the room and handed Jim the aspirin bottle and water. "You look like you could use most of the bottle."

Jim smiled weakly. "At least three or four. Thanks."

"The least I can do for someone who actually cares about hawks," Abby said. "Most of the folks around here either shoot them or poison them."

Ellison downed four of the aspirin and scowled. "Why?"

"They think the hawks swoop down and carry away their chickens," Blair replied in disgust. "It's an old wives' tale."

"Old husband's tale," Abby corrected with an arched eyebrow. She pressed her palms against her lower back. "I'm headed home, Doc. Good luck tomorrow. I put the muscle liniment on your desk. You'll need it this weekend."

Blair shook his head, both amused and grateful. "How did I ever survive without you?"

Abby grinned. "Beats me." She started out the door and glanced over her shoulder. "Remember, you have a dinner date with your fianc?e tonight." Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

Blair scowled at his assistant but he had forgotten about the date. Instead of looking forward to the evening like he usually did, he found himself annoyed by the prospect. He shook aside the odd feeling. "Thanks," he said. "By the way, someone from the raptor center will come by to pick up the hawk tomorrow morning."

"All right. Good-night, Doc."

Once she was gone, Blair turned back to Jim. "Thank you for taking the time to help the hawk."

"No problem." Jim stood and glanced toward the back where the cage was. "I can pay for its care."

Blair held up his hands, surprised by the offer. "Oh, no, that's okay, man. I may not be rich, but I can handle it. It's only for the night."

"Okay." Jim shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'll stay around for a while, but he should be fine," Blair reassured. "If you'd like, you could hang with me."

Jim appeared grateful for the offer. "You don't mind?"

"Why would I mind? It's not often I have someone from the outside world to ply information." Blair grinned. "C'mon." He led him through the back office and into his living area.

Although Jim didn't say anything, Blair could tell he was surprised that he lived behind the clinic. He motioned Jim toward the small living room. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."

Jim watched Dr. Sanborn walk down a hallway then inspected the vet's home. One wall of the living room was lined with bookshelves and every one was filled to overflowing with a myriad of titles, both fiction and non-fiction. Odd little artifacts covered any surface books didn't. He stepped over and looked closely at a piece of pottery.

"I found that at a dig in Egypt nine years ago," the vet said from behind him.

Startled, Jim spun around and knocked a book off the crowded shelf. It hit the floor with a thud. He and Sanborn leaned over to pick it up at the same time and their heads collided audibly. Both straightened, rubbing their respective foreheads.

"Sorry," they said simultaneously.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you," Jim said sheepishly. It was the first time somebody had sneaked up on him since his senses had gone haywire.

"Hey, that's okay. Would you like some tea?"

Jim grimaced. He wasn't a tea drinker and, with his enhanced sense of taste, it was undrinkable. "I'm more of a coffee person."

"I can go either way," Dr. Sanborn said, shrugging. "I'll make a fresh pot."

Jim followed the younger man into the kitchen, which had a cozy breakfast nook with bay windows opening to the woods behind them. He spotted a dozen different bird feeders, from hummingbird to oriole to finch, not to mention flat stations with kernels of corn and black oil sunflower seeds and suet blocks. Even though it had started raining, many of the feeders had at least one bird at them and Jim moved closer to enjoy the array of colors.

"Do you like watching birds?" the doctor asked.

"I never paid much attention to them until I was stuck in a South American jungle. You have quite a set-up here, Dr. Sanborn."

"Please call me Blair--it's my middle name. I prefer that to Jacob." Blair motioned to the window. "I've always enjoyed watching birds, ever since I was a kid. They're amazing with all the different behaviors and ranges of colors. When I was a kid, I found a duck wrapped up in some fishing line. I got the line untangled, but its wing was hurt so I took it home with me." He laughed quietly. "By the time I got there, I was covered with bird droppings. Mom about freaked."

"Is that when you decided to become a veterinarian?"

Blair paused, his gaze turning inward. "Not exactly." He poured a pot of water into the coffeemaker reservoir. "So what were you doing in a South American jungle?"

"A little of this, a little of that," Jim replied, unwilling to go into detail with a stranger, even though he felt more comfortable with the doctor than most people he'd known for years.

Blair grinned at him over his shoulder. "A military man, huh?"

"Are you a graduate of the psychic hotline?"

The vet chuckled. "Hardly. Just an observer of human behavior and you, my friend, scream military."

Jim ran a hand over his short hair self-consciously. "Ex-military. I used to be a cop, too." For some reason, he held back his current profession.

"Figures."

"What does that mean?"

"It's cool, man. I just meant it follows that a person who was accustomed to the hierarchical power structure of the military would find a comparable niche within a police department."

"You're not a shrink part time, are you Chief?"

Blair grinned. "A little anthropology in the background, but that's it."

"A veterinarian with an anthropology background. That's not real common."

"I'm an uncommon guy." Blair's smile lit up his entire face.

Jim couldn't help but smile, too, but his thoughts raced. Lew Sandburg had told him his nephew had gotten a degree in anthropology at Rainier University eight years ago. But if this man was Blair Sandburg, why would he turn to veterinary medicine after gaining a degree in anthropology? And why had he changed his name?

Jim's gut instinct was telling him something wasn't right. Then it struck him--there were no pictures displayed in the doctor's living room. He thought of the picture of Blair Sandburg his client had given him--it was from quite a few years ago and the younger man had much longer hair. It could be Dr. Sanborn, but it also might be a hundred other men. Since his client didn't want his nephew to know about him, Jim couldn't ask the doctor flat out if he was Blair Sandburg. He'd have to do some subtle questioning.

The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee tickled Jim's nose and he savored the pleasant scent. For so long his senses wheeled out of control without rhyme or reason, but ever since he'd arrived at the clinic, they seemed to have calmed down. If they hadn't, Jim doubted he would've been able to assist Dr. Sanborn--Blair--with the hawk.

"I've never seen you around here before. Did you just move here? Or just passing through?" Blair asked, pulling Jim out of his contemplation.

"Just passing through," Jim replied. "You look pretty young to be a vet."

"I'm old enough," Blair said defensively, and Jim had the impression the younger man was often asked about his age. "I got my veterinary medicine degree when I was twenty-eight, then I moved up here. That was two years ago."

That made Blair nine years younger than him, and the same age Blair Sandburg would be.

"You said you were a cop?" Blair asked curiously.

"That's right." Jim didn't want to continue this line of conversation. "It doesn't seem like there'd be a lot of work up here for a full time vet."

Blair narrowed his eyes as he studied Jim, clearly knowing he was deliberately changing the subject. "There's more than you'd think. I'm just starting into my busiest time with the new calves at the surrounding ranches."

"Why's that your busiest time?"

Blair grinned and his eyes sparkled. "The calves have to be given vaccinations, examined, and most male calves are castrated."

Jim's stomach tightened and he grimaced. "Ouch."

"Not really, but it is tough for men to watch it if they're not used to it."

"Uh, yeah, I suppose."

The coffee maker burbled, announcing that it was done brewing. Blair stood and poured them each a cup. He handed one to Jim, who accepted it with a murmured "thanks."

They moved to the table in the nook to sit quietly and watch the birds flit about, moving like a well-choreographed ballet among the raindrops.

"Are you planning on hanging around here for a while or continuing on?" Blair asked.

Jim shrugged one shoulder. "I don't have any firm plans."

"This is a good place to veg, get your head together."

Jim bristled. "You think I need to get my head together?"

Blair held up his hands, palms out. "Easy, man. Just a feeling. You said you 'were' a cop, so I assume you're out of work right now."

It was close enough to the truth and gave Jim an easy out. He relaxed his tense muscles and rubbed his brow, glad that his headache had subsided to a tolerable ache. "Is there a motel or B&B in town?"

Blair shook his head. "The nearest one is in down the road thirty-five miles in Culbert and that one isn't known for its cleanliness. But I happen to have a spare room if you're interested."

Jim glanced sharply at him.

"There's no catch," Blair said, reading Jim's mind too easily. "It's just a friendly offer. Take it or leave it."

"Why?" The single word slipped out before Jim could stop himself.

Blair shrugged. "I think you're a decent guy who has some things to work out." He suddenly grinned mischievously. "Besides, you haven't heard all my stories yet, unlike everyone else in town."

Jim snorted then chuckled. It had been a long time since he'd laughed or smiled with genuine amusement. "All right, Chief. I'll take you up on your offer, but I want to help out around here. I know how to push a broom with the best of 'em."

"I meant it when I said my offer didn't come with strings attached."

"I know, but I'll go stir crazy if I don't do something."

"Instead of pushing a broom, do you think you could hold down a calf?"

"What?"

"I was just talking to Abby, my assistant, today about how I need someone to help me with the calves. For being so small, they pack a helluva kick."

"Sounds dangerous."

"Nah. Just exciting."

Jim found himself smiling at the younger man's dry wit and nodded. "Hey, it'll be something else I can put on my r?sum?."

"Welcome aboard." Blair held out his hand and after a moment, Jim grasped it. For a smaller man, Blair's hand was broad and muscular and his handshake was firm without being overpowering. Jim had to remind himself to release it when the vet began to pull away.

For the next hour Jim and Blair talked about the area and the people and the advantages and disadvantages of living in a rural setting. Jim knew he should be trying to extract some information of his past from him, but he allowed himself to simply enjoy his company.

Jim suddenly cocked his head. "The hawk is getting restless."

"How--"

Jim didn't give him a chance to finish his question. Instead, he hurried down the hall leading back into the clinic. He heard Blair following closely.

The bird was trying to flap in the cage and was only managing to increase its frustration and the pain of its wounds.

"He's going to injure himself further if it doesn't calm down," Jim said.

"I'll have to give it another dose of tranquilizer," Blair said, his expression tense.

He quickly filled a syringe while Jim grabbed the leather gloves. Blair opened the cage slowly as Jim eased his hands inside to hold the bird. The vet quickly injected the bird who didn't take kindly to the sting of the needle. It jerked out of Jim's grasp and the claws on its uninjured foot raked down Jim's arm, tearing his shirtsleeve.

Pain exploded along Jim's forearm, and he released the bird and jerked out of the cage. Blair quickly closed the door once Jim was clear.

"Shit! Take your shirt off so I can take a look at your arm," Blair ordered.

Jim didn't argue and, with Blair's help, removed his shirt. He expected gushing blood, but there were only three red lines that hadn't even broken the skin.

Blair breathed a sigh of relief and wiped his brow with his wrist. "Damn. I thought you were really hurt."

Jim couldn't answer as the wounds burned, searing his brain and making him sick to his stomach. Blair was right. So why did he feel like he'd been carved with a red-hot knife?

"Jim, man, c'mon, it's not that bad." Blair's voice sounded fainter and fainter.

Pain inundated Jim until his world became cloaked in it. Sight, sound and smell wavered and disappeared....

Fear sliced through Blair as he studied the still man who stared blankly into space. Was Jim having some kind of seizure? Was that why he was no longer a cop? Maybe he was epileptic. No, the unseeing gaze and motionlessness pointed to some sort of psychoses. Schizophrenia? Or something else? A memory niggled at Blair, but wouldn't reveal itself. What was it? Had he seen this before? Or read about it?

Blair grasped Jim's shoulders and leaned close, his chest brushing Jim's. "Hey, man, c'mon back to me. Where'd you go?"

There was no reaction. Blair rubbed Jim's upper arms. "It's time to come back, Jim. C'mon, man, you're scaring the crap out of me here."

Suddenly Jim jerked and blinked. He groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead. "Damn. It happened again."

Blair released him and stepped back. "This has happened before?"

Jim sighed. "Yeah."

"What is it? What causes it?"

Jim shook his head. "I don't know." His attempt at a smile failed. "Now you see why I'm not a cop anymore."

"Have you been to a doctor?"

Jim eyed him like he'd asked him if he knew what color the sky was. "Try a dozen."

Blair's eyes widened. "And nobody's been able to figure it out?"

"Half of them referred me to a shrink."

"And?"

Jim glared at him. "The one shrink I went to said I was nuts. I didn't get a second opinion."

Maybe he was schizophrenic or paranoid. No. Although he'd just met the man, Blair didn't think Jim was mentally unstable. He just seemed to be a scared and confused man, and Blair understood that all too well. "You're not crazy."

"How can you be so sure? Hell, half the time I'm not certain."

Blair smiled. "That proves you're saner than most of us." His smile faded. "How's the arm?"

"Burns." He shook his head. "I've been shot before, but that never hurt as much as these scratches."

Again, the elusive memory teased Blair. "So you have sensitive ears and eyes. And now it seems your sense of touch is sensitive, too."

"Try taste and smell, too," Jim said bitterly.

"All five senses?"

"Seems that way, but they're erratic as hell and I can't control them."

Blair rubbed his jaw, thinking. "I think I've read about this. I'll check out some of my books, see if I can figure it out." He eyed the angry red lines on Jim's arm. "How's it now?"

"Better. Don't you have a date, Chief?"

Blair glanced at the round clock on the wall--six twenty-five. He grimaced. "I'd better call her and cancel."

"You don't have to baby sit me." Annoyance oozed in Ellison's voice.

"It's the hawk I'm worried about."

Jim's face flushed. "Oh. I can watch him."

"You won't know what to do if something happens."

"You just gave him a tranquilizer. How long will the effects last?"

"Two or three hours."

"Then there's no reason to cancel your date. I'll stay here with the hawk and if it wakes up before you get back, I'll call you."

Blair considered his offer. Jim had a valid point. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

Jim shrugged. "Since I'm staying here anyhow, it won't be any big deal."

Blair jotted down his cell phone number and handed it to Jim. "Call me if the bird wakes up or if it seems to be in distress."

"Got it, Chief." Jim tucked the slip of paper into his shirt pocket.

"Let me show you your room before I leave so you can bring your stuff in and make yourself at home."

Blair led the way to the living area and down the hallway. Across the hall from his bedroom was a smaller room with a full size bed, dresser, chair and little else. "I know it's not much."

"It's fine, Chief. I appreciate this."

"No sweat. It's just sitting here empty. I'd better go." Blair scurried out, but paused in the doorway. "Help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen. There should be enough to throw together a sandwich or make some eggs. There's beer in the fridge, too."

Jim's lips lifted upward. "Thanks."

Reluctant to leave, Blair smiled back. "You don't have to keep thanking me, Jim. You'll be earning your keep starting tomorrow."

"I hope I don't screw up, Chief. I mean, if I lose it like I did a few minutes ago..."

"You'll be fine, Jim. Trust me. I should be back in a few hours."

"No rush. I'm not going anywhere."

And that reassurance more than anything allowed Blair to leave for his date.

_________________________________

Blair watched Tara play with Lady and was glad to see no twisties were in the vicinity. Lisa sat beside him on the couch, close enough that their thighs touched, and Blair had put his arm around her shoulders. They'd finished dinner an hour ago and a romantic comedy played on the TV, but Blair's mind was on the mysterious Jim Ellison and he'd forgotten the name of the movie ten minutes into it.

"Lady seems to have completely recovered," Blair said.

Lisa patted Blair's arm, then left her hand there. "Thanks to you. We were certainly lucky when you decided to start your practice here." She smiled. "Personally, I'm even more grateful that you moved here."

She raised her head and kissed his lips. Blair kissed her back, reacting more from habit than desire.

From what Lisa had told him, her ex-husband had been physically and mentally abusive. They'd divorced last year but it hadn't been an amicable split. Fortunately, her ex-husband left town soon after the divorce was final and nobody had seen him since. The townspeople had rallied around Lisa and Tara, and they'd stayed there. Blair had been so busy establishing his business that he hadn't met Lisa and her daughter until after the divorce.

Lisa snuggled close to Blair's side.

"I'm glad to be here, too. It's a nice town with good people," Blair finally said.

He knew that wasn't what Lisa was fishing for, but it was all he had at the moment and refused to lie to her. She was intelligent and beautiful with a cute, loving daughter who already had him wrapped around her little finger.

Lisa's soft curves felt good and his body reacted instinctively to her proximity. Once Tara was asleep, it would be easy to fall into Lisa's bed as he had done so often in the past. But tonight, the thought of sleeping with her didn't bring the usual heat to his blood. Instead, it felt...awkward.

Tara joined them on the couch, sitting on Blair's other side with Lady curled in her lap and purring loudly. Blair put his other arm around the girl and tried to concentrate on the movie, but found his thoughts again straying to Jim. He wondered if he was having problems with his senses and if he'd eaten anything and if he'd gotten his things settled in his room.

Before Blair's rushed exodus from Cascade and Rainier University, he'd earned a degree in anthropology. He'd hoped to continue, to gain a Master's and maybe even a doctorate in the subject but fate had other plans for him. However, he recalled something about super-sensitive senses from his past studies, but couldn't pinpoint what it was. Fortunately, he managed to retain all of his beloved anthropology books in the flight following the event that changed the course of his life. However, they were still in the same box he'd put them in years ago. It had hurt too much to look at them. But now, he had a reason to dig them up.

Static rippled across the TV screen and a clap of thunder followed almost simultaneously. The thunder's volume told Blair the storm was right on top of them. He tensed, worried about Jim and his sensitive hearing.

Lisa sat up and looked at him, concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"The thunder," Blair replied, his brow furrowed.

"The thunder can't hurt you," little Tara piped up next to him.

Blair smiled reassuringly for the young girl. "I know, but I have a wounded hawk at the clinic and it might be scared."

"Where did it come from?" Lisa asked curiously.

"It was caught in some wire a few miles down the road."

"Will it be all right?"

Blair disengaged his arms from Lisa and Tara's shoulders. "It was hurt pretty badly. I should probably get back and make sure it's okay."

Lisa's expression fell, her disappointment almost tangible, but Tara nodded sagely.

"You'll make it better like you did with Lady," the girl said with a confident grown-up voice.

Blair ruffled her hair. "I hope so." He stood and Lisa joined him. "I'd better go."

"Duty calls," Lisa said, a half-hearted smile on her face.

Blair held up his hands and gave her a wry look. "Twenty-four, seven. Goes with the job."

"I know. It's just that I'd hoped--" Lisa glanced at Tara, as if what she was about to say wasn't fit for little girls' ears.

Blair had an idea what she intended to say, and was doubly glad for the excuse to return to his clinic. "Maybe next time," he said.

Another crash of thunder startled them all and Blair felt an urgency to return to the clinic as quickly as possible. He kissed Lisa's cheek, gave Tara's shoulder a fond squeeze then hurried out into the torrential rainstorm. Although his car was parked close, he was soaked by the time he slid behind the wheel. After starting the engine, he drove the mile back to the clinic carefully. Between the night and the heavy rain it took him three times longer to drive the short distance than it normally did.

As he neared the office, a flash of lightning revealed Jim's truck. A tight coil loosened in his gut. A small part of Blair had been worried that Jim had left.

Blair hurried out of the car and crossed the ten feet to the covered porch. He stamped his feet and shook himself like a wet dog. After unlocking the front office door, Blair hustled inside and pressed the door shut.

"Jim," he called out, although not loudly for fear Jim's ears were ultra sensitive.

No answer.

The roast beef, baked potato, salad, and cheesecake Blair had for dinner churned ominously in his stomach. He quickly toed off his soaked shoes and darted into the back room. Only the nightlight illuminated the area, but Blair could make out the shadowy figure of the hawk resting peacefully in its cage.

"Jim? Are you in here?" Blair spoke, sotto voce.

Again, only the booming thunder and rain against the roof answered him.

Growing even more fearful, Blair turned to go look for Jim in the living area. However, a sound from the corner stayed him. He peered through the gloominess to try to find the source of the noise. Lightning lit the interior with white light and Blair spotted him. Jim sat slumped in a chair, his hands fisted in his lap.

Blair stole toward him, his wet socks leaving damp footprints behind on the linoleum.

Suddenly Jim's head shot up and his gaze landed on Blair. Relief and something akin to alarm flickered through his eyes.

"Blair." Jim's voice seemed overly loud.

"Why didn't you answer me?"

Jim's gaze dropped to Blair's mouth and the older man's lips curled downward. "I can't hear you."

Blair's heart dove into his throat. "What?"

Jim's brow furrowed. "I can't hear a thing. It was the thunder."

"The thunder deafened you?" Blair asked incredulously.

Jim shook his head, telling Blair he didn't understand. The veterinarian searched for something to write on. He nabbed a clipboard with some form he didn't need. After turning the form over, he wrote, "Thunder deafened you?" then held it out to Jim.

The older man read it and nodded dejectedly. "It was like someone stabbed an ice pick into my brain then there was nothing. Silence." Unable to monitor the volume of his voice, Jim sounded loud and halting as he spoke.

Blair leaned heavily against the stainless steel examination table and stared at the miserable man. Had Jim's sensitive hearing been permanently damaged by the unexpected overload? Or did he have an internal safety switch that protected him by temporarily muting his hearing? And if the loss were temporary, when would his hearing return?

Jim sighed and stood. "This isn't your problem, Chief. I'll just get my stuff and leave."

Obviously Jim had misread Blair's perusal of him. Blair grabbed his arm and shook his head vehemently. "No. I don't want you to go."

Blair could see Jim focus on mouth, concentrating on reading his lips. A thread of impatience told Blair he wasn't able to figure it out. Blair dived for the paper and pen and jotted down, NO! STAY! and thrust the clipboard under Jim's nose.

Jim glanced down and surprise lit his features. "Why?"

"I think I can help," Blair spoke as he wrote the words simultaneously.

"How? No one else has been able to."

"Give me a chance," Blair wrote. He grinned at Jim's skeptical expression. "Please."

The helpless vulnerability in Jim's face robbed Blair of his breath.

"Sure. Just don't get your hopes up," Jim said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Blair nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. He took a clinical look at the hawk, satisfied it was still sedated. Then he looked at Jim and mouthed, "Follow me."

He must have understood because he did as Blair said, following the vet back to the living quarters. Blair motioned for Jim to sit down on the recliner in the living room then pantomimed for Jim to stay there while he went into the kitchen to give himself a moment to gather his thoughts.

Blair gripped the edge of the counter and dropped his head. Now what? How did he expect to help Jim get his hearing back? What if his ears were permanently impaired because of his sensitivities? He should take Jim to the hospital in Kennewick and let the real doctors take care of him.

A hand settled between his shoulder blades causing him to jerk his head up. Jim stood beside him, his eyes wary but also concerned.

"Are you all right, Chief?"

Blair blinked and nodded. Jim was the one who needed help and Blair was the one losing it. He mentally shook himself free of his panicky thoughts. "I'm okay. You're the one who's deaf."

Jim shook his head. "It's back on-line."

Blair frowned. "Your hearing's back?"

Jim nodded. "Came back right after I sat down." He glanced down at his feet. "The first thing I heard was your heart racing."

"You heard my heartbeat all the way in the living room?"

"I guess."

Blair took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Want a beer?"

"I could use one."

"Understatement, man." Blair pulled out two bottles of Coors and handed one to Jim. He twisted the cap off his and wandered into the living room. After plopping on the recliner, he took a long swallow.

Moving almost soundlessly, Jim joined him and perched on the sofa. He looked like a rabbit ready to bolt. "Sorry, Chief."

"Sorry for what?"

"For--" He shrugged. "For being such a pain in the ass."

Blair chuckled. "I've known more than my share of pains in the ass, Jim, and believe me when I tell you you're not one of them."

Jim glanced up, startled but also a little relieved. "Thanks," he said softly.

The sincerity in the big man's quiet voice brought a hitch to Blair's breathing. He quickly took another swig of beer to cover his peculiar reaction.

Jim's shoulders relaxed and he settled back in the sofa. "So, how was your date?"

Blair focused on the beer bottle in his hand as he stripped a line of silver paper off the label. "It was okay."

"You're home earlier than I expected." He waggled his eyebrows. "I didn't expect to see you back until at least midnight."

Blair smiled half-heartedly. "Lisa thought the same thing. But I was worried about--" he cleared his throat. "With the thunderstorm, I was worried about the hawk."

"The hawk was fine." Jim glanced down. "It was me who had the trouble."

Lightning flashed, lighting up the windows and thunder boomed closely on its heels. Jim flinched slightly.

Blair reached across and touched Jim's arm. "Are you all right?"

Jim lifted his head and there was an odd light in his eyes. "I'm okay." He brow furrowed in confusion. "Before you came back, I had a lot more trouble."

"Maybe you just needed a diversion."

Jim studied him a moment, his expression shuttered. "Maybe."

He lifted the beer bottle to his lips and took a long swallow. Blair's gaze followed the up and down movement of his Adam's apple in the sleek line of his throat. Realizing what he was doing, Blair quickly drank some of his own beer.

"So, how long have your senses been so sensitive?" Blair asked casually.

Jim's shoulders tensed visibly. "Six months or so."

"So what've you been doing since you stopped being a cop?"

The older man's face became hewn in granite. "I thought your offer to stay here didn't come with any strings."

The stoic Jim Ellison Blair first met was making a return appearance. Although it was only eight hours ago that Jim dropped into Blair's life, it seemed like they'd known each other for days, rather than hours.

Blair held up the hand that wasn't holding his beer. "Easy, man, just trying to find some answers."

"Yeah, you and half the doctors in Cascade." Jim stood. "It's been a long day. I'm going to bed."

Thunder rumbled, but it wasn't nearly as deafening as earlier. The storm was moving away.

Jim walked into the kitchen and rinsed the bottle, then set it beside the sink. "What time do we have to leave in the morning?"

"We should leave at six-thirty. The earlier we get there, the earlier we can finish."

Jim nodded. "What about the hawk?"

"I'll check on him before I go to bed and if he starts fussing overnight, I'll hear him. Good-night, Jim."

The older man merely gave him a nod then strode down the hallway to his room.

Blair finished his beer but remained seated, his mind on Jim Ellison. Had he acted too rashly when he'd asked Jim if he wanted to stay here, in this house, with him? What did he know about Jim besides what he'd told him? What if Jim hadn't been a cop, but rather the opposite? Some kind of sociopath or an ex-con? Or maybe a hired killer?

Suddenly restless, Blair went into the kitchen and set the empty bottle on the countertop. Jim obviously had some abnormal sensitivities--that had been the truth. He also didn't like talking about his "problem." That was damned little to know about someone who was going to be in a room just down the hall. Especially when Blair had been so careful around strangers the last seven years.

Then Blair recalled Jim's careful handling of the hawk and the way he'd come to find someone to help the creature. Was that something a murderer would do? Of course, what did he know about assassins? Even they probably had a soft side, like loving their mother or helping little old ladies cross the street...or rescuing hurt animals.

He stepped over to the phone and picked it up, his finger ready to punch in the memorized number. What was he doing? If he called in, they'd no doubt hustle him out of town so fast he wouldn't have time to say good-bye. Then he'd be back to square one, setting up a new vet practice in some other state with some other name.

Besides, if Ellison had been hired by Garbelli, wouldn't Blair be dead by now?

His hand trembled slightly as he put the phone back in its cradle. He would wait and see, and if Jim's behavior became suspicious, Blair would call that number and disappear again despite hating to do so.

With his decision made, Blair made his final rounds, examining the hawk, then checking the locks and finally turning off the lights. No light shown from beneath Jim's door and Blair wasn't certain if he was relieved or not.

He entered his own room and closed the door behind him. There was no lock on it and Blair quietly placed a chair beneath the doorknob. It probably wouldn't keep Jim out if he was Garbelli's hired killer, but it might give Blair enough time to run.

Blair stripped to his boxers and T-shirt, and crawled into bed. He lay there for a long time, listening and hoping his first impression of Jim Ellison was right. When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were anything but restful.

_________________________________

Jim woke to the gray light of dawn. He listened, wondering if Blair was up yet. He heard the slow steady beat of the younger man's heart and tried not to panic. He shouldn't have been able to hear another person's heartbeat through the walls. It was...unnatural, freakish. But then, hadn't he been aware of it ever since he met the veterinarian?

He thrust the thought aside, refusing to deal with the ramifications. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was just five o'clock. No wonder his host was still asleep.

He rolled onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head. Staring at the ceiling, he considered the case that had brought him all the way across Washington State. He'd have to carefully ply Blair to learn more about his past. Jim wouldn't call Sandburg until he was absolutely certain Blair was his nephew.

Strangely, the thought of staying in the small town and helping Blair didn't bother him in the least. The truth of the matter was Dr. Jacob Blair Sanborn fascinated Jim. Maybe it was his generosity or maybe it was his ability to calm Jim's senses without trying.

Or maybe Jim simply liked the younger man in a way he hadn't liked a man in a very long time.

Even if that were the case, Blair was engaged to the woman he'd gone to see last night. Besides, it was doubtful that the vivacious young man would be attracted to a forty-year-old ex-cop with a receding hairline. And freakish senses.

Jim swallowed the block of disappointment and switched mental gears. He should call Simon this weekend and let him know he was okay. Captain Simon Banks had taken it personally when Jim had put in his resignation. The two men had become friends over the past two years they'd worked together, and Simon wasn't going to let Jim go that easily. He'd talked the detective into a leave of absence, which left the door open for Jim if he wanted to return to the force.

A low groan broke into Jim's thoughts and he recognized his housemate's sleepy voice. Blair shuffled into the bathroom and five minutes later Jim heard the shower running. Throwing off his covers, Jim rose and padded into the kitchen in his underwear. He found the coffee by using his sense of smell and proceeded to make a pot. Blair had told him to make himself at home so Jim opened the fridge and scrounged around for breakfast. He pulled out an egg carton, an onion, half a yellow pepper, grated cheese, and sliced ham.

By the time Blair entered the kitchen wearing a pair of heavy jeans and a flannel shirt with another shirt beneath it, Jim had scrambled eggs and toast made, as well as juice and coffee poured. The vet grinned. "Smells great, Jim."

"Sit down, Chief," Jim said.

"Be right back," Blair said.

Puzzled, Jim watched him hurry down the hallway, only to return moments later carrying a blue plaid robe.

"Here. It's probably a little short, but it's better than nothing," Blair said, handing the robe to him.

Jim accepted it with murmured thanks and they both sat down to enjoy the meal.

"Man, this is great," Blair said.

Jim shrugged. "Between the military and my marriage, I had to fend for myself."

"You're married?"

"Used to be," Jim corrected. "I couldn't be what she wanted me to be." He grinned without humor. "That's why it only lasted a year."

Blair seemed to be rolling the information over in his mind. "At least you tried."

Jim tipped his head to the side. "Sounds like you're getting close to taking the plunge yourself."

Blair laughed self-deprecatingly. "Yeah, it is a little like jumping off a cliff and I never did like heights."

Jim remembered his own anxiety the days before his wedding. "It's natural to be nervous, Chief. Believe me."

Blair studied him for a long moment, his dark blue eyes unrevealing of his thoughts. "I suppose." He stood. "I'll take care of the dishes and check on the hawk while you shower."

Jim nodded and went to his room to grab some clean underwear before going into the bathroom. As he showered, his thoughts centered on Blair. Jim knew he'd only be around for a few weeks at the most and he had no right thinking the things he did about Blair, but the powerful attraction could be ignored as easily as his weird senses. It was a good thing the younger man had a fianc?e--it made it easier for Jim to bury his budding feelings for the vet.

Half an hour later, Jim braced himself in the passenger seat of Blair's old Ford Bronco as the wheels hit another rut in the gravel road. Outside the vehicle, there was little to see beyond sagebrush and bluebunch wheatgrass. This southeastern area of the state was more arid than Cascade, which sat on the coast. It was also much less populated with miles of shrubs and low grasses.

"How can anyone raise cattle out here?" Jim asked.

Blair, his eyes hidden by sunglasses, glanced at him. "It's not easy, but the land isn't much good for anything else. You go farther north and there's a lot of barley and spring and winter wheat."

Jim turned slightly, resting his left arm along the back of the seat as he gazed at Blair. "So how did you end up here?"

Blair kept his gaze aimed at the narrow country road. "I wanted to set up a practice in an area that needed it. The college I went to received notices of towns looking for vets and I chose this one."

"Where'd you grow up?"

"Nowhere in particular. My mom, she was pretty footloose. We traveled a lot."

"What about your father? Brothers? Sisters?"

Blair flashed him a crooked grin. "What is this, an interrogation?"

Jim shifted guiltily on the seat. "Just curious."

There was only the sound of the truck's motor and the occasional cry of a hawk for the next few minutes.

"I'm an only child. And I never knew my father," Blair finally answered, his voice quiet.

Was Blair telling the truth about his father? If so, maybe he didn't even know he had an uncle. But no, Lew Sandburg had said he'd had a falling out with his nephew.

Jim scrutinized Blair's profile and the curly hair that held hints of auburn among the darker strands. He tried to see the similarities between Blair and Lew Sandburg, but there was little to find. Sandburg's eyes were blue, but not the midnight blue of Blair's. The cheekbones, forehead, nose and chin were all completely different. There might've been a slight resemblance in the mouth and lips, but that was stretching it.

Had Jim followed a bum lead?

"What about you?" Blair asked, casting him a look. "Where'd you grow up? Family?"

Jim's first reaction was to tell him it was none of his business but the words died on his tongue. Blair had answered his questions. It was only fair that Jim answer his.

"I grew up in Cascade, but unlike you, I knew my father." Sourness filled Jim's mouth. "I have one younger brother."

"What about your mother?"

Jim turned away to gaze out the side window. "She left when I was ten. I haven't seen her since."

"Oh, hey, man, I'm sorry."

Jim shrugged, keeping the hurt locked away where he'd kept it for years. "It was a long time ago, Chief."

"What was it like, living in one place when you were a kid?"

"I never really thought about it. I mean, that's just the way it was. I knew a lot of kids all the way through school and I always knew where I'd sleep each night."

Blair grinned. "Sounds pretty strange, man."

Jim smiled back. "Is your mom still wandering around the world?"

Blair's grin disappeared and Jim noticed his scent changed minutely.

"She's been dead for seven years now." Blair shook his head, his mouth set in a firm line. "It's hard to imagine it's been that long."

Jim did some quick figuring in his head. "Did her death have anything to do with you changing from anthropology to veterinary medicine?"

Blair's heartbeat double-timed, startling Jim, but when he answered, his voice was steady, controlled. "It contributed to my decision." He stared straight ahead.

Frowning, Jim wondered why he was being so reticent. Although he'd only known the vet a short time, Blair wasn't the shy type. He tended to be more open and talkative than Jim, but in this instance he was being strangely guarded.

Blair turned off the paved road, drove over a road grate that kept the livestock from wandering out, and down a bumpy dirt road.

Jim spotted some scattered cattle on a hillside but didn't see any calves. He wondered if there was a special place they'd be taking care of them.

"You do know how to ride, right?" Blair suddenly asked.

"A horse?"

Blair laughed, his eyes lighting up. "No, a cow."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know how to ride a horse. I suppose he doesn't have eastern saddles."

"Only western, with a nice big saddle horn to hang onto," Blair teased.

"Real funny, Chief."

Blair snorted with laughter.

They rounded a bend and the ranch buildings came into view. It wasn't a large place, nothing like Jim thought of a ranch. The house needed a paint job and some of the corral poles were sagging. The barn seemed to lean, threatening to topple with a brisk breeze.

"Bob and Helen have had a rough time the past few years. When cattle prices dropped they didn't have anything to fall back on," Blair explained. "Last year they had a hired hand to help out. This year it's only them."

Jim surveyed the yard. Two horses were saddled and tied to a corral post, and a man in his fifties came out of the barn. The scent of manure and hay tickled Jim's nose, sending him into a sneezing fit.

"You okay, man?" Blair asked.

Jim nodded as he wiped his nose with a handkerchief. "Yeah," he said, sounding nasally and stuffed-up. "I never used to be allergic."

"It's probably your sense of smell. Can you like turn it down or something?"

Jim frowned, considering Blair's suggestion. "Turn it down? How?"

Blair shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe visualize a volume button and ease it down toward zero."

Hell, it was worth a shot. Jim closed his eyes and pictured an old stereo he had when he was a kid--it had big black dials on it. He formed one in his mind and labeled it Smell, then turned it down. The smells became less noticeable until Jim couldn't smell anything at all. Hastily, he turned it the other way until everything was what he considered normal.

"It worked," he announced with an amazed smile.

"Really?" Blair grinned. "Cool."

The rancher walked toward the car with the rolling gait of someone who'd spent the better part of his life on a horse. Blair and Jim got out of the four-by-four vehicle to greet him.

"Doc Sanborn," the man said, extending his hand to Blair.

"How're you doing, Bob?" Blair said, shaking his hand.

"Fair to middlin'. Who's this?" The rancher swept his gaze across Jim.

"Bob Harris, this is Jim Ellison. He's going to be helping me out," Blair introduced.

"Nice to meet you, Jim. You from around here?"

"No, sir," Jim replied. "Just passing through."

Bob merely nodded in acceptance. "Why don't you go on in the house and have some coffee? And I know for a fact Helen just pulled out a fresh pan of cinnamon rolls."

Although the two men had had breakfast, fresh pastries and coffee sounded heavenly. Blair knocked on the porch door and a woman wearing faded jeans, a sweatshirt and a scarf around her head opened the door.

"C'mon in, Dr. Sanborn and bring your friend with you," Helen said, turning and scurrying back into the kitchen.

Jim removed his ball cap as he entered. The inside of the house was spotless. There were a few dirty dishes and cups in the sink, but other than that, everything gleamed. Helen leaned over the oven and pulled out a pan of golden brown rolls. "Sit down, sit down."

Jim glanced at Blair who motioned for him to sit at the table in the kitchen.

"Can I help you with anything, Helen?" Blair asked.

"Good heavens, no."

The next thing Jim knew he had a steaming cup of coffee and a huge warm cinnamon roll in front of him. His sense of smell was rising again, but the scents of coffee, bread, brown sugar and cinnamon were bringing almost a euphoric state. He closed his eyes to savor it but an elbow to his arm made him open them. Helen was staring at him.

"Um, it smells good," Jim said lamely. "Really good."

The woman laughed. "Thanks."

"Oh, Helen, this is Jim Ellison. He's going to help me out for a little while," Blair finally remembered to introduce them.

"I'm glad the Doc's going to have some help this year. We felt just horrible last year over what happened," Helen said, shaking her head.

Jim frowned, glancing from Blair's embarrassed face to Helen's guilty one. "What happened?"

"One of the mama cows didn't care for the doc taking care of her baby. She managed to catch him good in the back with her hoof. Doc said it wasn't anything, but I knew he was bruised pretty good."

"With Jim here to help, everything'll be fine," Blair said optimistically. He took a big bite of his cinnamon roll and groaned in ecstasy. "Helen, your cinnamon rolls are the best in the county, if not the entire state."

"Thanks, Doc. You're welcome any time to drop by for breakfast." Helen pushed a tub of margarine between Jim and Blair. "Don't be shy, Jim. Dig right in."

Jim swathed a thick layer of margarine on his roll and bit into it. The flavors danced on his tongue and caroused through his senses. This was better than glazed buttermilk donuts. "Mmmm," was all Jim could mutter past the sensual feast.

Jim and Blair had just finished their first roll and cup of coffee, and Helen was bringing them a second of each when Bob joined them. He removed his hat and hung it on a peg near the door. He was barely seated before he too, had coffee and a roll placed in front of him.

Jim couldn't resist the second cinnamon roll and dug in. He noticed Blair didn't hesitate either. After they'd finished eating, in between conversation about the weather, livestock prices, and people Jim didn't know, it was time to get to work.

He followed Blair and Bob Harris outside, tugging on his cap and adjusting the brim to shield his sensitive eyes from the sun. Blair stopped by the Bronco to pick up his medical bag and some gloves. He tossed a pair at Jim. "You'll need these."

Jim donned them on the way to the horses. Bob mounted with unsurprising ease. Blair had to hop up to get his left foot in the stirrup, but pulled himself up into the saddle like he'd done it a few times before. Jim didn't waste any time setting his horse. The big leather saddle felt odd but he'd ridden western pleasure a few times before so he merely ignored it.

It was a twenty-minute ride to a box canyon without road access, which explained why they rode horses instead of driving in. Jim enjoyed the hushed silence, the tang of sagebrush, and the warm light breeze that caressed his face. Arriving at the canyon, Jim could see how the small canyon was perfect for one man to keep the cattle, with only a narrow entrance between two rock walls.

Blair pulled equipment out of his bag, explaining to Jim what he'd be doing with each of them. Bob produced ear tags, which Blair would attach and log in a separate ledger. Once Blair had everything set to his liking, he nodded to Bob, who headed toward the milling cattle with his rope in hand.

"Now the fun begins," Blair said to Jim.

Jim was skeptical and felt more than a little exposed without a fence between them and the cattle, but he figured Blair knew what he was doing. Then he didn't have time to worry as Bob brought the first balky calf over to be tagged, vaccinated and, if it was a bull, castrated.

"Get the calf on its side," Blair said, attempted to wrestle the small but amazingly strong animal to the ground.

Gritting his teeth, Jim recalled how they'd done it at a rodeo he'd gone to years ago. It was harder than it looked but he managed to get the male calf down. Blair instructed him how to hold the head while he tagged the animal's ear, then how to hold the back lower leg in place while Blair severed the cord to the testicles without breaking the skin. As Blair castrated the young animal, Jim's stomach lurched and he wished he hadn't had the cinnamon rolls, no matter how sinfully delicious they'd been. The smell of the calf, the texture of its hair against Jim's arm, its unceasing bawling--all were threatening to destroy Jim's feeble control.

"Use that dial, Jim," Blair spoke quietly but intently as he readied the syringe for the vaccination.

Holding the animal down, Jim tried to do as Blair said, but he couldn't concentrate. Blair's heartbeat caught his attention and Jim focused on that, using it to center himself, then gradually turned the dials down. By the time Blair gave the signal that he was done, Jim's senses were behaving.

"You don't have to do this," Blair said to him as the calf was released to run back to its mother.

"I'm okay now, Chief."

Blair's smile was one of relief. "Good. I have to admit it was a lot easier with your help."

"You did this alone last year?"

Blair nodded. "First time I'd actually ever done it, too. Talk about the school of hard knocks. I was ready to toss my vet's license down the toilet and go back to anthropology. At least the students didn't kick. At least not too much," he added with an impish grin.

Jim chuckled and gave his gloves a quick tug into place as Blair made a notation in the ledger. Less than five minutes later, Bob hauled in the second calf.

The morning went quickly and without any serious incidents. Jim managed to catch a hoof in the gut which robbed him of his breath for a minute, but that was the worst of it. Noon was fast approaching but so were the last of the calves.

In fact, as Bob brought the next calf over, he called out, "Last one."

Jim and Blair exchanged relieved looks. Having found a routine, Jim approached the calf and quickly wrestled it onto the ground to its side. He held the head down while Blair attached the tag to the calf's ear. As Blair reached for his instrument to castrate the bull, a sound caught Jim's attention and he looked up, pinpointing a hawk wheeling high in the blue sky. The light shimmered off its wings and Jim's sight zeroed in on it automatically.

Suddenly, the calf kicked, jerking out of Jim's lax hold. The hoof caught Blair full in the shoulder, sending him ass over teakettle in the dirt.

Jim immediately released the calf and scrambled over to the vet, who lay there moving slowly. "Blair, are you all right?"

"Oh, man, did you get the license plate?" Blair murmured.

"Huh?"

"Of the truck that hit me." Blair attempted to sit up but Jim gently held him down.

"Whoa, Chief. Lie there while I make sure nothing's broken."

"Nah. I've had broken bones before so I know how they feel. But my shoulder aches like a son of a bitch."

Despite Blair's assurance that nothing was broken, Jim ran his hands over his torso and limbs lightly. The vet was right. Nothing broken, but Jim could feel heat radiating from his left shoulder. "Maybe you don't have any broken bones, but your shoulder is going to need heat and ice or you're not going to be able to move your arm for a few days."

Blair groaned. "No way. I've got appointments tomorrow morning." He pushed Jim's hands aside and tried to sit up again. This time he made it with a little help from the older man.

"You okay, Doc?" Bob Harris shouted to him.

Blair nodded. "Fine. Just bruised. Bring the calf back."

"Maybe--" Jim began.

"It's the last one, Jim. We can head home then."

Jim acquiesced reluctantly. This time he applied extra pressure to keep the calf in place while Blair did what needed to be done. When they were finished, Bob released the young steer and joined Jim and Blair.

"Are you sure you're all right, Doc? He got you good," Bob said, worry in his voice.

"Nothing a little Ben-Gay won't cure," Blair reassured.

But Jim noticed how stiffly the younger man moved and with his hearing turned up, he could hear the little catches in his breathing. He'd ensure the vet soaked in the bathtub when they got back to town.

He helped Blair gather his instruments then they mounted their horses and rode back to the ranch. Even though he knew Blair wouldn't like it, Jim kept his senses focused on him and was never far from his side.

Helen Harris insisted they eat lunch with them, but Blair told her he had appointments back in town.

After a round of handshakes and Blair's assertion that they could pay him when they could, Jim and Blair walked back to Blair's Bronco. When Blair handed the keys to Jim without the older man having to ask, Jim knew he was hurting. He tried to miss the potholes in the long driveway but there were too many and Blair's eyes were squeezed shut as he tried to keep his injured shoulder immobile.

Jim cursed his inattention. If he hadn't been caught up in the hawk, his mind would've been on the calf. It wouldn't have gotten away from him and kicked Blair. It was what he'd feared when Blair asked him to help. No, he couldn't do this anymore. He'd put his mind back on his job--his real job--and ask Blair flat out if he was this Blair Sandburg person. If he said no, Jim would leave and tell his client he couldn't find his nephew. Simple.

Except it wasn't that easy. There was no denying that being around Blair tamed his senses. They still weren't "normal", but at least he wasn't fighting them every minute of every hour. In fact, the few times he'd had problems, Blair had helped him either directly or indirectly. Except for this last time, when the hawk had called to Jim's senses and they'd responded.

"This wasn't your fault," Blair said, guessing his thoughts.

Surprised, Jim turned but saw Blair's eyes were still closed. Jim gave his attention back to the road. "The hell it wasn't. If my damned senses hadn't acted up, you wouldn't have been kicked."

"Yeah, and if bumblebees had wings they wouldn't bump their asses on flowers."

"Bumblebees have wings, Chief," Jim stated, wondering if the injury to his shoulder extended to his brain.

Blair turned his head toward Jim and opened his eyes. "Then why do they bump their butts on flowers? I've seen them do it."

Jim stared at Blair a moment then burst into laughter when he saw the twinkle enter the younger man's eyes. "I'm going to assume you're trying to lighten the mood."

"You assume right." Blair smiled. "Really, Jim. I've been hurt worse than this a lot of times. I'll be okay."

"What time's your first appointment this afternoon?"

Blair shifted uncomfortably. "I lied. I just said that so we could go home. I'm ready to collapse."

Now that Jim catalogued his own body, he realized he was tired and hurting some himself. Not to mention that his stomach was growling. The cinnamon rolls were hours ago.

"Rest, Chief," Jim said.

"Yes, sir," Blair said with a half-hearted salute.

But Jim noticed he closed his eyes and within minutes, he seemed to be asleep. Forty-five quiet minutes later, he parked behind the clinic, where there was a private entrance to Blair's home.

"Hey, Chief. We're here," Jim said.

Blair awakened but his eyes were bleary as he looked around. "Thanks for driving, Jim."

"No problem."

They got out of the Bronco and Jim resisted the urge to help Blair. He did carry Blair's bag, though, and the vet didn't argue. Once inside, Blair headed for the hallway that led into the clinic. "I'm going to see if the hawk is still here."

Jim nodded and went into the bathroom to start filling the tub with hot water. He felt, rather than heard Blair behind him, and turned to see him standing in the bathroom doorway. There were little creases of pain in his face and he held himself stiffly.

"Did they pick up the hawk?" Jim asked.

Blair nodded. "Abby left me a note. They said the bird would probably recover completely and be let go back into the wild."

Jim smiled, relieved. "That's good."

"Yeah. So, what're you doing?"

Jim shrugged. "I though it would be good if you soaked in hot water. Your shoulder needs it."

Irritation lined the vet's features. "I've been taking care of myself for a long time, Jim. I don't need a nursemaid."

Jim seesawed between embarrassment and annoyance. "If you don't want to soak, you don't have to. But you're going to be even sorer tomorrow if you don't."

Blair battled with his own independent pride and the fact that Jim was right. Hell, it was kind of nice of him to do this. It had been a lot of years since anybody had taken care of him. He finally nodded. "Okay."

Jim smiled and his eyes appeared even bluer. Blair mentally shook himself and looked away from the man's handsome face.

Jim turned off the tap and tested the water. "All ready, Chief."

"I can handle the rest by myself, Jim," Blair said, smirking.

"Oh, sure, no problem. I didn't plan on like stripping you or anything," Jim said with a chagrined smile.

An image of Jim's strong hands unbuttoning his shirt flashed though Blair's mind and he shifted uncomfortably. Blair backed out of the bathroom entrance and let Jim by, then re-entered.

"Um, if you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen making lunch," Jim said.

"Thanks," Blair said warmly.

The vet closed the bathroom door and allowed himself to slump, giving in to the aches and pains that throbbed through him. He removed his clothes, dropping them to the floor in a pile. Standing in front of the mirror above the sink, he wasn't surprised to see a hoof-size bruise forming on his shoulder. He touched it lightly and flinched. Damn, it was sore. But it was less than he normally had to suffer after working with calves, thanks to Jim.

Blair sank into the tub and the hot water came to his chin. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and put himself into a light meditative trance. He followed the images floating through him, images of Naomi; of himself when he was a child; of friends he'd known in his anthropology courses. Then came the darker images--of Naomi's body being flung back by three bullets to her chest; of the trial of her killer; of the marshals taking him away from Cascade and giving him a new identity.

His heart pounded and he opened his eyes to the familiar bathroom. Yet at the moment, it all seemed alien to him. Two years he'd lived and worked here. More years of hiding his past and building a new life--not the one he'd imagined when he'd been an idealistic college student, but one that offered him safety and a modicum of stability.

For one awful second, rage spilled through him. He'd lost his mother and the life he'd wanted because of some son of a bitch who thrived on power and other peoples' suffering.

A light knock sounded on the door. "Chief, are you all right?"

Jim's voice brought him back from the brink of despair. "Fine."

A long pause, then Jim said, "Lunch will be ready in about fifteen minutes."

"Okay."

Blair listened to Jim's footsteps fade down the hall and disappear as his new roommate went into the kitchen. Jim Ellison was an enigma. Ex-soldier, ex-cop, with super senses that cut in and out on him. Even though he knew little about him, he trusted him. And for Blair, who'd given up on trust years ago, that was a major concession.

But Jim was also making him think of things he'd long ago laid to rest, like his beloved anthropology and Cascade and former lovers. While attending veterinary college, Blair had little time for romantic pursuits and usually kept his rare dates limited to women. And when he moved to the small town, he'd known there would be little tolerance for a bisexual man so he'd submerged that facet of himself.

And here was Jim Ellison, awakening all those old feelings. And some new ones, in the bargain. But Blair had made his choices and his life was here now, in this small town, and he had a chance at a normal family with Lisa and her daughter Tara. He'd be crazy to jeopardize all that for a man, even one like Jim. Especially since Blair doubted Jim even swung that way, much less was attracted to him.

Taking a deep breath and realizing his shoulder did feel better, Blair stepped out of the tub and toweled himself dry. He rubbed on the liniment Abby had left for him, hissing slightly when he pressed too hard on the bruised area. He also took two ibuprofen to help counter the inflammation. Five minutes later, he entered the kitchen in clean blue jeans, a sweatshirt and stocking feet. The smell of tomato soup and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches had his stomach gurgling.

"Sit down, Chief," Jim said.

Blair did so and Jim carried the food to the table then joined him. They dug into the hearty lunch, ravenous from the morning's strenuous activities. Once they were done, Blair helped Jim clean up the kitchen.

"Do you have some muscle cream for that shoulder?" Jim asked.

"Liniment," Blair replied. "I rubbed some on my shoulder after I got out of the tub."

"I thought I smelled something medicinal on you."

Blair snapped his fingers. "That's what I wanted to do."

"What's that?"

"I remembered something from my undergrad days about overdeveloped senses. I want to see if I can find it."

"Where would it be?" Jim asked.

"I have some boxes of books in the closet in your room. It should be in there." He shuffled down the hallway.

"If you show me where they are, I'll carry them into the living room for you. You shouldn't be trying to do much with that shoulder for a day or two," Jim said.

Blair pointed out the boxes and Jim brought them out, setting them on the coffee table. Blair pulled a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and slit the tape. His hands trembled as he opened the first box. Aware of Jim's gaze on him, Blair picked up the top book in the box and leafed through it. He tried to ignore the memories that were unearthed with the textbooks and concentrated on something that might explain Jim's senses.

After a while, he became engrossed in his search, forgetting about Jim and everything else as he immersed himself in the past--anthropology, professors, students and lively debates.

Some time later, Jim brought him a bottle of water and Blair murmured a thanks. A lamp was turned on beside him as the afternoon sun moved closer to the western horizon. It wasn't until he was almost through the last box when he found what he was looking for.

"I got it," Blair exclaimed.

"What?" Jim asked, setting aside the book he was reading.

"Tribal guardians."

"I'm not following you, Chief."

"Dr. Stoddard, one of my anthropology professors, told us about tribes in South America and Africa that had tribal guardians. There were men or women with all five senses enhanced. They were revered by the tribes because of their abilities to detect enemies, find game, and determine weather patterns." Blair frowned. "Dr. Stoddard didn't have much information about them, but he did mention a book that he'd heard of that did talk about these guardians. I jotted it down." He looked up at Jim and smiled dryly. "At the time I thought if I could find a guardian, it would make a great thesis for my dissertation."

"So why didn't you pursue it?"

Blair glanced down, unable to obfuscate while looking his new friend in the eye. "I decided I wanted to be a vet instead." He took a deep breath and placed the notebook back in the box it had come from. For a long moment he stared at the remnants of his past.

The phone rang, startling Blair out of his musings and Jim handed him the cordless phone.

"Dr. Sanborn," he answered. Lisa's voice at the other end of the line made him smile. "No, not too bad. Just a little sore."

As he spoke with her, Jim stood and moved off into the kitchen, probably to give him some privacy. After a few minutes of discussing how their respective days went, Lisa asked him, "Would you like to come over this evening? Last night was cut short."

Blair turned his head slightly to see Jim standing by the large window, hands in his jeans pockets as he watched the birds at the feeders.

"Would you mind if I took a raincheck? I'm pretty sore and I've got appointments tomorrow," Blair said.

"Sure, no problem," Lisa said, but he could hear the disappointment in her voice. "Maybe tomorrow night?"

"Maybe," Blair replied, unwilling to commit.

"I'll talk to you later then," she said. "Bye, Blair."

"Good-bye, Lisa." He turned off the phone and set it aside.

"Are you done with these?" Jim asked.

Blair glanced up to see Jim standing in front of him, pointing at the boxes.

"Uh, yeah." He stood. "I can help you put them back."

"Don't worry about it, Chief. I got it."

Blair nodded absently, his mind not on Lisa, but the book Dr. Stoddard had mentioned. As Jim carried the boxes back to the closet, Blair went into this bedroom where his PC was set up. He quickly hooked up to the internet and did a search for "The Sentinels of Paraquay." The search came back with two hits from bookstores.

Blair's eyes widened at the price of the rare book, but it didn't deter him from ordering it and paying extra for express delivery. He'd receive it Monday and maybe it would answer some questions, enabling him to help Jim.

While he was on-line, he checked his email account. His heart kicked into gear when he saw one from Port_in_ a_ Storm. With trembling fingers, he opened the post and quickly scanned it.

"Just thought you'd like to know Aunt Em is out of the hospital but we've got a 24 hour nurse with her until we're certain she'll be all right. No reason to worry--she's doing fine. Will let you know if her condition changes. Port."

Blair read the note a second time then deleted it and emptied his trash file. Aunt Em--Anthony Garbelli--was out of prison. Since he had only ordered the killing, but hadn't actually pulled the trigger, he'd only gotten six years. And now those six years were up and he was out. Would he be looking for Blair? Or would he just try to regain control of his "business" and forget about him?

Blair wasn't a violent man--Naomi had taught him that peaceful means were preferable to violence any day. But he'd dreamed of killing Garbelli, squeezing the trigger again and again, and watching the blood pool around him. Garbelli was the reason his mother, who wouldn't harm a fly, was dead.

His throat tightened and he swallowed convulsively to hold his emotions at bay.

A light knock on his doorframe startled him and he turned to see Jim.

"Is something wrong, Chief?" he asked softly.

"Why?"

Jim shifted uncomfortably. "I heard your heart speed up and your breathing sounded funny."

Blair rose from his computer desk and approached Jim. "Were you concentrating on listening to me?"

"No. It was like, well, like I was tuned to you subconsciously and when things changed, I noticed it."

Blair wasn't certain if he liked having Jim as his own personal alarm system. "I just got an email from a friend. His, uh, mother died."

"I'm sorry."

Blair felt like a jerk for lying, but the alternative wasn't an option. No matter how he felt about Jim, he hardly knew him. "Yeah, me, too." He brushed past Jim. "What would you like for dinner?"

_________________________________

The next morning, Blair made pancakes for breakfast. Jim asked him once how his shoulder was then didn't say anything more about it. Blair suspected his friend didn't want to appear too much like a mother hen.

"So what's going on today?" Jim asked, spearing another saucer-sized pancake and plopping it on his plate. "Pass the chokecherry syrup, please."

Blair handed him the syrup made by Martha Cabot, who lived next door to Lisa. "I've got a few appointments this morning then I thought I'd work on the bookkeeping."

"I noticed some loose shingles on your roof. You mind if I fix them?"

Blair smiled. "Go for it. I keep meaning to replace them but forget. There's a whole pack of shingles in the shed out back."

They lingered over their breakfast, drinking coffee and talking. Jim noticed Blair didn't talk about himself, although he had opinions on many different subjects, including clear-cut logging, home schooling, and the Cascade Jaguars. Never a social person, Jim found it odd that he enjoyed Blair's company so much.

When Blair's first appointment arrived at nine-thirty, Jim changed into an old paint-stained T-shirt that Blair lent him, then went to work. He found a pair of work gloves, hammer, shingle nails, and the shingles themselves in the cluttered shed. Shaking his head, Jim figured the shed would be his next project after the roof.

The morning passed quickly as Jim removed and replaced shingles atop the clinic's roof. It was after noon when Blair called him down for some lunch. They each had a sandwich and an apple then both men went back to their respective tasks.

Throughout the afternoon, the blue sky was broken only by horsetail clouds. The sun grew warmer on Jim's back and shoulders, and he removed the T-shirt. It felt good to be doing physical labor and Jim used the T-shirt as a towel to wipe away the sweat that formed on his brow and his chest.

"You're going to get a helluva sunburn, Jim," Blair called up to him.

Jim glanced down at his friend and grinned. "Got some lotion?"

Blair smiled and held up a plastic bottle. "Catch."

Blair tossed the bottle up to him and Jim caught it. He removed his gloves and rubbed some of the lotion across his exposed skin.

"How's it going?" Blair asked.

"Another hour and I'll be done."

"Cool. I've been working on paperwork and I gotta tell you, I'm going to need a break. Want to hit Pat's Pub?"

Jim shrugged. "Sure, why not. Head's up, Chief." He tossed the lotion back down to Blair.

"Um, you feeling okay?" Blair asked tentatively.

Jim knew what he meant. "No headache."

The vet appeared relieved. "Good."

Blair watched Jim return to his project and knew he should get back to his own tedious chore, but he couldn't draw his gaze away from the older man. Wearing blue jeans, a ball cap, hiking boots and no shirt, Jim was a feast for the eyes. His chest shimmered from the lotion and sunlight, and his arm and shoulder muscles flexed and unflexed as he worked. Whatever else Jim did, he kept his body in shape. But Blair didn't believe it was because of vanity. Jim struck him as the type of man who kept whatever tools he used in good shape, and his body as just another tool. Blair, however, couldn't help admiring his sleek lines.

Suddenly realizing he was ogling his housemate, Blair quickly returned to the clinic. But even as he worked at inputting supply invoices, bills, and payment for services rendered, he kept picturing Jim. And he couldn't help but wonder how smooth and warm Jim's skin would feel beneath his palms.

An hour later, the pounding stopped and Blair heard Jim moving across the roof. Blair finished what he was working on, then shut down the computer and joined Jim outside.

Sweat streaked Jim's face and torso but he was smiling and his eyes were startlingly blue beneath the brim of his ball cap. "Give me a few minutes to put this stuff away and shower, and I'll be ready for a beer."

While Jim showered, Blair changed into a red, blue, tan and brown plaid shirt, and a clean pair of faded jeans. His shoulder was still stiff and sore, but it was tolerable, thanks to the hot soak when he got home yesterday.

Jim came into the living room while Blair was trying to read a veterinary medicine newsletter. Wearing blue jeans and a soft powder blue shirt, Jim grinned. "I hope this isn't too casual."

"Nope. In fact, I think if you went there in something other than blue jeans, everyone would look at you strange," Blair said, trying not to stare at Jim.

Forgetting about his sore arm, Blair pushed himself off the chair and barely managed to stifle a groan.

"Did you take some ibuprofen today?" Jim asked.

"A couple of hours ago. I just forgot." Blair moved it experimentally. "It's actually doing pretty well, which is a good thing. We'll be out at another ranch on Monday. A bigger one."

Jim frowned and Blair could tell he didn't like the idea. "It's my job, Jim. And I don't break that easily."

Jim's expression eased and he smiled ruefully. "Sorry. I'm not usually this way, but for some reason it bothers me that you're hurting." He shrugged. "I know it sounds weird."

It did sound a bit odd, yet Blair had to admit he felt that way towards Jim, too. Why else would he dig through his past in order to help him? He didn't understand the compelling drive to help Jim, but he could no more ignore it than he could ignore an injured animal.

"Come on. I hear a couple of cold ones calling our names," Blair said, unwilling to dwell on his newfound feelings.

"Should I grab my truck keys?"

"Nah. It's only a couple of blocks away."

After checking to make sure his cell phone was clipped to his belt, Blair locked the clinic and the two men strolled down the sidewalk. The late afternoon slanted through the trees, giving the town a striped look of shadows and sunlight. Everyone who walked or drove past waved, and Blair returned the gestures with a smile.

"Does everybody in town know you?" Jim asked.

"It's a small town and I'm the only veterinarian," Blair replied with a shrug. "It's kind of nice. I never lived in one place long enough to get to know people before moving here."

"Do you have any living relatives?"

Blair shook his head, refusing to dwell on the fact he was truly alone in the world. "Nobody." Jim grew quiet and Blair wondered what was running through his mind. "You said you had a dad and brother. Any other relatives?"

Jim nodded. "Some cousins but I don't know them very well, except for Rucker." He grinned. "You'd like him. He's with the Coast Guard--spends weeks alone at a lighthouse. Last time I talked to him he was learning Chinese through audio tapes."

Blair laughed. "Sounds like an interesting guy."

Pat's Bar had a square front with the requisite beer lights in the windows that advertised Coors, Rainier, and Lite Beer. It took a moment for Blair's eyes to adjust to the sudden dimness after the bright outdoors.

"Hey, Doc," came a few calls from the scattered patrons.

Blair greeted each of them and introduced Jim as they made their way to an open booth.

A woman about Jim's age and wearing too much make-up came over to take their order. "What can I get you and your friend, Doc?"

"Hey, Sheila. This is Jim Ellison," Blair introduced.

Sheila smiled. "Nice to meet you, Jim. Any friend of the doc's is welcome."

"I'll take a Coors Light," Blair said.

"Same," Jim said.

"Two Coors Lights comin' up. Help yourself to the beer dogs, boys." She returned to the bar area to fill their drink order.

Jim's nose twitched. "I thought I smelled something good."

Blair laughed. "C'mon. You're in for a treat."

Five minutes later, the two men had their beers and two beer dogs each--beef frankfurters that had been cooking in a crockpot of beer for most of the day. Jim hadn't put any condiments on his, but Blair had gone for the works--catsup, mustard, pickle relish and onions.

Jim bit into his first beer dog and closed his eyes. "These are good, Chief."

"You should try them with everything." Blair wiped his chin.

"Wish I could. Ever since the senses..." He trailed off.

Blair frowned. "How's taste today?"

Jim sat still for a moment, his brow puckered in thought. "Good, actually."

"Then try it. If you have a problem, I might be able to help."

Jim shrugged and took his paper plate with his hot dogs over to the table that held the condiments. He wasn't certain it was a good idea to try this in a public place, but he trusted Blair. When he returned to their booth, he picked up the beer dog. "Here goes."

He took a big bite and the flavors splashed across his palate, creating an ever-changing m?lange of tastes.

"Well?" Blair asked.

"Orgasmic," Jim mumbled with his mouth full.

Blair laughed. "I've never heard Pat's beer dogs described quite that way, but whatever, man."

They happily ate the late afternoon snack and drank their beers. When Sheila came around, they ordered a second round of Coors and sat back to watch the Mariners baseball game showing on the big-screen TV.

The Mariners squeaked out a win and Jim and Blair celebrated with a last beer and beer dog. When they left Pat's amidst a chorus of farewells, the sun had set, chilling the air. They stretched out their pace back to the clinic. Blair was relieved to see there were no messages on the answering machine.

Since Blair didn't have anything scheduled for Sunday, they ate popcorn and watched movies until one. By the time Jim tumbled into his bed, he was exhausted but it was a healthy exhaustion, unlike the nights since his senses went haywire. Without even thinking about it, Jim found Blair's heartbeat and fell asleep to the rhythmic cadence.

_________________________________

Jim opened his eyes to darkness, instantly alert. Something had awakened him, but what? A moment later, he heard Blair muttering in his sleep. So the doc talked in his sleep, Jim thought with an affectionate smile. He wondered what he'd learn if he listened in. But Jim refused to do that. Blair wasn't a suspect to spy on. He was someone who'd given Jim the first peace he'd felt in months. But how he did it, Jim had no clue. It was as if just being around the vet helped control his senses.

He considered what would happen when he returned to Cascade and found he didn't like to dwell on leaving. But from what Blair had told him on the way to Pat's Pub, he had no family, which meant he wasn't the man he was searching for. So why didn't Jim pack up and leave?

Jim rolled onto his side and rested his head on his arm. If nothing else, Jim was a painfully honest man with more than his share of integrity. The fact that he hadn't told Blair why he was there chafed at his conscience, but Jim's gut had told him to go that route rather than the direct approach. It bothered him, but he'd learned to trust his instincts. His instincts were also telling him that Blair was the only one who could help him with his senses. Forget that Jim enjoyed the vet's company and found himself eyeing Blair a little too closely than he should. The fact was he wanted to stay and help Blair, even as Blair helped him.

A cry from across the hall made Jim sit up.

Jim debated whether to close his ears or go to Blair's room and see if he could wake him from whatever dream was making him yell out. Another shout, this one louder, made the decision for Jim. He rose and crossed the hall. Blair's bedroom door was ajar and Jim knocked lightly then entered. Although it was dark, Jim's eyes compensated for the lack of light and he could see Blair clearly. The vet tossed and turned, and his expression was one of fear and grief. Jim sniffed, noticing his usual scent was off, tinged with something he could only describe as terror.

Jim approached his bed and leaned close. "Blair, wake up! Blair!"

He resisted touching the younger man, not knowing how it might affect him. After a few more moments of calling Blair's name, the vet sat straight up, his eyes wide and his mouth open. Sweat trickled down his cheek.

"Blair? Are you all right?" Jim asked softly.

Blair blinked. "Jim?"

"Right here, Chief."

The vet used his wrist to wipe away the moisture on his face. "Damn! I'm sorry I woke you. I've been having these dreams--nightmares--the last couple of weeks."

"You want to talk about them?"

Blair started to shake his head then stopped. "How about some hot chocolate?"

Jim shrugged. "Sure."

Jim returned to his room and pulled on his jeans and a shirt that he left unbuttoned with the tails hanging out. When he went into the kitchen, Blair was already there wearing an old blue plaid bathrobe that came to his knees and droopy white socks. His shoulder-length curly hair was sleep-mussed, giving him a little boy's tousled look. For a moment, it was hard to believe Blair was a licensed veterinarian.

Jim retrieved two cups from a cupboard while Blair dug out a canister of instant hot chocolate and a bag of mini-marshmallows. There was already a teakettle set on a burner. Jim leaned against one counter, his arms folded over his chest while Blair leaned against the opposite one.

The two men were silent as they waited for the water to boil. When it did, they mixed their drinks and sat down by the table facing one another.

Jim didn't push the younger man, but allowed the quiet to surround them. He knew Blair would talk when he was ready.

"It's not always the same," Blair began with a sleep-husky voice. "But there's always a choice involved. Usually I'm standing on a cliff in a forest and this lion is after me. I either have to jump or be killed by the lion. That was the one I had tonight. Other nights, I dream I'm in this dark room and it smells musty, like a cave. There's this pool of water and there's somebody submerged in the water, but the person's face is blurred and I don't recognize it. I try to get closer, to save the person from drowning, but it's like my feet are stuck in mud and I can't move no matter how hard I try."

Blair paused and swiped his hands across his face. Jim recognized the scent of salt and it took him a moment before he realized he was smelling Blair's tears. Torn between comforting the younger man and his characteristic reluctance to offer solace, Jim curled his palms around the warm cup.

"You said these started only a couple of weeks ago?" Jim asked.

Blair nodded. "I've wracked my brain, trying to figure out if something happened or if I saw something that triggered them, but there's nothing."

"Is there some decision you've been putting off?"

Blair shrugged tiredly. "I've been seeing this woman, Lisa, for about six months now. Everyone's expecting us to get married, but..."

"Do you love her?" Jim hated to ask, but he wanted to help his new friend.

"I don't know. Maybe. I suppose."

Jim chuckled lightly. "Not a very convincing answer."

Blair's full lips turned upward at the corners. "I guess that's my problem, huh? Everyone, including Lisa, expects us to get married and I'm not so certain."

Jim leaned forward. "Don't let anyone pressure you into doing something you're not comfortable with. I made that mistake when I proposed to Carolyn, my ex-wife. I thought getting married was the thing to do." He shrugged. "Not a very good reason to make that kind of commitment."

"I guess. It's just that I may not find anyone else and I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone, y'know?"

Jim smiled sadly. "Yeah, I know, Blair." He took a deep breath. "If you don't propose to Lisa, that doesn't mean you won't find someone else who you'll love and maybe that person will be the right one."

"Living here, I doubt it, Jim. If you haven't noticed, there's not a surplus of eligible women."

"Then don't stay here. Come back to Cascade." With me.

Blair's eyes filled with melancholy. "I can't, Jim. My life is here."

"But--"

"I think I can go back to sleep now. How about you?" Blair asked, changing the subject.

Frustrated but afraid to voice his feelings, Jim nodded curtly. They rinsed their cups and headed back to their respective bedrooms.

Jim lay in bed for a long time, listening to Blair toss and turn. It wasn't until the vet fell into a restless slumber that Jim allowed himself to sleep.

_________________________________

Blair was quiet on Sunday and Jim gave him his space as he went outside to putter. He found the bird food and filled the feeders and perches. Then he began to clean and organize the stuff inside the shed. By late afternoon, he had a pile of junk stacked outside the shed that he wanted to throw out, but figured he'd better ask Blair first.

"Blair," Jim called through the back screen.

"Yeah?" Blair padded to the door in stocking feet, and his glasses were perched on his nose.

"Could you come outside for a minute? I want to ask you about some stuff."

"Sure, man. Let me get my shoes on."

A few minutes later Blair stood beside Jim, eyeing the interior of the shed with nothing short of incredulousness. "Man, you were busy. I can't believe that's the same shed."

"Believe it, Chief." Jim wiped at a rolling droplet of sweat and left behind a streak of dirt. "Do you want to keep any of this stuff?"

Jim waited while Blair looked through the mess of boxes, pieces of wood, old rusty garden tools, and a huge load of old newspapers.

"Nah. All this can go in the garbage. I'll give you a hand."

Jim and Blair carried the junk to the dumpster set along the side of the clinic. As they dumped the last load, a woman and young girl came up the sidewalk.

"Blair," the woman greeted with a smile.

"Dr. Blair," the girl said, running toward Blair and hugging his waist.

Jim stood back and watched, knowing this was the Lisa the vet was expected to marry. The woman was attractive with blonde hair and blue eyes and her daughter looked just like her except she had hazel eyes. Something that felt suspiciously like jealousy curled in Jim's belly.

"I hadn't heard from you so I thought we'd stop by," Lisa said to Blair, her curious gaze flitting to Jim.

"We've been busy," Blair replied. He brought Lisa and her daughter over to Jim. "Lisa, this is Jim Ellison, a friend. Jim, this is Lisa and her daughter Tara."

"Are you an animal doctor, too?" Tara asked curiously.

Jim squatted down, putting himself at the same height as the girl. "No. I'm not smart enough to be a doctor."

"Dr. Blair is smart," Tara said, nodding her head sagely. "He saved Lady, my kitty."

Jim tipped his head back and smiled up at Blair. "It sounds to me like he's a hero."

"Yep. He's going to be my new daddy, too."

"Tara," Lisa scolded, her face reddening.

The girl didn't seem to be fazed by her faux pas and she wiped a finger along Jim's cheek. "You're dirty."

"I was cleaning the shed," Jim said. He rose. "In fact, I'm going to shower. Nice meeting you, Tara. And you, too, Lisa." He nodded at the two females and went into the house.

"He's staying with you?" Lisa asked Blair.

"He's also helping me with the calf vaccinations," Blair said.

"Is he an old friend?"

"Not exactly. He showed up Thursday afternoon and said he'd found an injured hawk. We managed to save the bird. Since he didn't really have any destination in mind, I offered him a job." Blair shrugged. "He accepted."

"So you don't know anything about him?"

"I know enough to trust him," Blair said firmly.

He guided Lisa to the back yard where a patio table and chairs were set up.

"So what have you been up to?" Blair asked, keeping his voice light.

"Just the usual," Lisa replied. "We went to service this morning."

Blair nodded without comment. That was one of their sticky points--Blair was Jewish so didn't attend the protestant church in town.

"I thought you might call around lunch, but you didn't so I did some work around the house," Lisa said. "Come over for dinner. I've got a pot roast in the oven."

Blair noticed she didn't invite Jim and was tempted to turn her down, but couldn't refuse her without a good reason. He nodded and smiled. "Six-thirty?"

"That'll work."

She rose and Blair walked her and Tara to the sidewalk. He gave Lisa a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and patted Tara's shoulder. "I'll see you both in a couple of hours."

Blair trudged back to the living area of the clinic. The bathroom door was open and the warm, moist air told Blair Jim had taken his shower. He heard the older man in his bedroom as he grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

"So you're going over to her place for dinner?" Jim asked when he entered the living room, his hair damp.

"Couldn't turn down pot roast."

Jim smiled. "I don't blame you."

"There's food in the fridge and freezer. Do you want me to get something out for you before I leave?"

"I think I can handle it, Chief." Jim sat down in the chair across from Blair. "Does it bother you that she has a daughter?"

Blair shook his head. "I don't have a problem being second. I mean, when I was a kid it was just my mom and me, and I understand that Lisa's child comes first. In fact, Tara was one of the reasons I was attracted to Lisa--a readymade family."

Jim stared out the window behind Blair. "I can see where it would be tempting." He stood. "How far is Kennewick?"

Blair frowned at Jim's abrupt question. "About an hour away. Why?"

"Since you have a date, I think I'll drive over there."

Blair wasn't certain he liked Jim leaving, if only for an evening. But it wasn't like he had any say in what a grown man could or couldn't do. "All right."

Jim went into his bedroom and came back out with a jacket, his cap, and truck keys. "What time do we have to leave for the ranch in the morning?"

"Six," Blair replied. "So don't make it too late tonight."

"Same goes for you, too, Chief. Have fun."

Blair listened to Jim walk outside then start his truck. When the sound of the truck's engine faded away, Blair continued to sit there. Even though he'd lived alone in this place for two years, it suddenly felt empty and lonely.

_________________________________

The farther Jim got from Blair, the more his senses began to bother him. The dials he'd been using with relative ease were now difficult to turn and even more difficult to hold in place. As he drove into Kennewick, a headache began in his temples and he was tempted to turn around and go back. But Blair wouldn't be home. He'd be with Lisa and Tara--his readymade family.

Gritting his teeth, Jim kept on driving until he saw a sign for a steakhouse. Five minutes later, he exited his truck and walked into the restaurant. It wasn't overly busy and he was seated immediately. He ordered coffee and their largest sirloin steak with the works, almost in defiance of his senses.

He sipped his coffee and grimaced at the bitterness. More than anything, he wished he was back at Blair's, having dinner with him and watching the birds flit from feeder to feeder. But what he wanted didn't matter. Jim had no right disrupting Blair's life for his own selfish reasons. Yet the thought of leaving Blair and never seeing him again brought a hollow ache to his chest. The ache turned into a sharp sting when he pictured Blair, Lisa and Tara together.

So he wanted Blair for himself, and not just because of the damned senses. It was a disquieting discovery to realize he might be falling in love with the veterinarian, especially since he didn't believe in that crap about love at first sight. And it wasn't like Jim actually dated guys.

The clatter of a tray made Jim flinch and his headache notched upward. He rubbed his temples, hoping he could hold it together long enough to eat and get back to Blair's place. Once he was there, everything would be okay.

Unless Blair spent the night with Lisa.

Then Jim was on his own, just like he'd always been.

_________________________________

Although Blair didn't want to spend the night with Lisa, she had other plans. As soon as she put Tara to bed, she tugged Blair into her bedroom.

"I need to get up early tomorrow morning," Blair argued as Lisa tried to unbutton his shirt.

"We'll set the alarm."

Lisa managed to get half the shirt buttons undone before Blair could stop her. He backed away, but she followed.

"Seriously, I really need to go," Blair said.

"Why? You don't have any patients, do you?" She nipped at his chin then kissed his neck.

Despite himself, Blair felt his body responding to her touches. "No, but it's going to be a long day and I need to get some rest tonight."

"You can rest all you want. Later."

Blair took hold of her wrists to stop her wandering hands. "I have to go, Lisa."

She pulled out of his grasp and whipped off her knit top, revealing a lacy bra. "It's been over a week, Blair. I've missed you. Haven't you missed me?"

Whatever answer he gave would be the wrong one. Before he could come up with another excuse to leave, she lifted one of his hands to cover her breast. He groaned as he felt the undeniable tug of lust. They'd gone to bed together countless times and each time Blair had enjoyed it. Lisa wasn't afraid to tell him what she liked and he always ensured she was satisfied.

But tonight it felt wrong, as if he were cheating on someone.

Someone named Jim? His conscience chided him.

Maybe the lure of a readymade family had blinded him to the fact that Lisa wasn't the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Jim had given him sound advice--don't marry for the wrong reasons.

Blair's arousal faded as he pictured Jim driving away. This time he'd be coming back. But what about next time? And that 'next time' would come--maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but some day Jim would disappear from his life.

"Look, Lisa, I don't think this is working," Blair said, grasping Lisa's wandering hands.

She lifted her head to give him a puzzled look. "What?"

"I think maybe we shouldn't see each other anymore."

Shock replaced her bewilderment. "But I thought..."

"I guess maybe I thought so, too, but I don't love you."

Lisa's mouth opened and closed. "B-but what about Tara?"

"I care for Tara a lot, but that's not a good reason to marry her mother. It wouldn't be fair to you. You deserve a man who'll love you and your daughter."

Lisa pulled away from him. She retrieved her shirt from the floor and jerked it on. "I'm sorry, too, Blair. I thought we meant something to you."

Blair was afraid of this. As much as he enjoyed Lisa's company in the past, he'd caught glimpses of possessiveness and jealousy. Sometimes Blair felt that Lisa saw him as a trophy since he was considered to be the town's most eligible bachelor. Usually he'd shrugged it off, excusing her behavior because she'd had such a rough time with her abusive first husband. But now it appeared Lisa wasn't going to be gracious in detaching with love.

"You did. I still care for you and Tara. But it'd be wrong of me to continue seeing you, knowing it wouldn't go any farther than what we have now," Blair said, keeping his voice calm and reasonable.

Lisa crossed her arms and anger blazed from her eyes. "So I was just a convenience for you? Someone to fuck when you were looking for a warm body?"

Blair's mouth dropped open, shocked by her coarseness. "No, it wasn't like that. I thought we might have a future together, but now I know it's not going to happen. And I won't turn you into a 'convenience.'"

A tear rolled down Lisa's cheek. "Get out of here. Leave, Blair."

He stared at her a moment, wishing they could've parted friends. "I'm sorry, Lisa," he whispered and left quietly.

Outside, he stood on the sidewalk and breathed in the cool night air. Had he made a mistake in breaking up with Lisa? What if nobody else came along? Would he be relegated to living alone for the rest of his life?

Then Blair thought of Jim and anticipation quickened his pace as he walked through town, back to the vet clinic. His thoughts were so focused on hoping Jim was back from Kennewick that he didn't even notice the car driving down the main street without its headlights on.

The only warning Blair had was the engine's rev and he looked up to see a car bearing down on him. For a split second, Blair froze. Then he dived to the side, into a row of thorny hedges. The car took out some of the bushes, barely missing Blair.

For a long moment, Blair lay sprawled in the hedges, listening. The car roared away, leaving stunned silence in its wake.

A porch light came on and a dog started barking. "What's going on out here?"

Blair recognized Todd Chambers' voice--it was his hedges that Blair had taken cover in. He rose shakily, feeling the sting of thorns and warm wetness where they'd broken the skin on his face, neck and arms.

"It's just me, Dr. Sanborn," Blair called out.

"Doc, what're you doing in my bushes?" Todd lumbered over to him.

"Someone almost ran me down. He must've been drunk," Blair replied, his breath rasping in his lungs.

"It was probably Lee Vincent," Todd said in disgust. "He's always tying one on."

"I don't know who it was. He didn't have his headlights on and I wasn't paying attention."

"Should I call Sheriff Evers?"

"No," Blair replied without hesitation. "I'm sure whoever it was is long gone."

"If you say so," Todd said skeptically. "Do you want to come in the house and clean yourself up?"

"I'm not far from my place. I'll be fine."

Todd nodded and bid him goodnight, then returned to his house.

Blair's entire body trembled now that he didn't have to hide his terror. It had to be Garbelli. The man was holding a grudge and now he was on a vendetta to destroy the person whose testimony had put him in prison.

On quivering legs, he half-ran to his place. He was upset to see Jim's truck wasn't parked in its usual spot. But what could Jim do? Blair couldn't confess his status as a federally protected witness, which meant he couldn't tell Jim his suspicions about Garbelli. And if he sent the U.S. Marshals an email telling them what happened, he'd be whisked away with no hope of seeing Jim again.

Blair entered the front entrance, locked the door behind him, and hurried to the back area. He stood in the center of the living room, his arms wrapped around his waist as he continued to shiver.

A noise at the back door made him freeze. He listened intently and heard the screen door's recognizable creak as it was opened. Footsteps down the hall, coming toward him. Blair's heart thundered as he frantically searched for a weapon.

"Blair?"

Jim's familiar voice brought a relief so great Blair almost collapsed.

"Why are you standing in the dark?" Jim asked as he approached Blair.

"Jim," Blair breathed thankfully.

"What's wrong?" Jim inhaled sharply. "What happened? You're hurt."

Jim's strong hands clutched Blair's arms and the younger man allowed himself to lean into Jim's welcome support. "I-I'm okay. Just a careless driver," Blair lied.

Jim guided him to a chair. "Sit down while I get the first aid kit. While I clean those cuts, you're going to tell me exactly what happened."

Blair nodded and sank bonelessly into the chair. As he listened to Jim rummage in the bathroom, he turned on a nearby lamp. A few minutes later, Jim returned to the living room with first aid supplies and a damp washcloth.

Jim knelt down in front of Blair and began to clean away the blood. The scent of Blair's blood filled him, obliterating everything else, and his own hands began to tremble. He quickly clamped down on his emotions.

"Did you just get back?" Blair asked.

Jim nodded as he dialed up his sense of touch, making it more sensitive so he wouldn't hurt Blair while he cleaned and medicated his cuts. "I thought you'd be at Lisa's until late."

Blair shrugged then grimaced when the motion must have aggravated both his sore shoulder and the new aches and pains. "I broke up with her."

Jim paused and his gaze sought Blair's. "Why?"

Blair rubbed his hands together nervously. "You were right. I was using the wrong reason to get married."

Although Jim was glad, he knew it couldn't have been easy on his friend. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm glad I did it." He smiled without humor. "Lisa isn't so happy about it, though."

Jim didn't know what to say so merely continued his first aid. The two men remained silent until Jim was done applying antibiotic and some butterfly bandages.

"Let me put this stuff away, then we need to talk, Chief," Jim said.

When Jim came back to the living room, he found Blair in the kitchen heating water.

"I'd like some tea. How about you?" Blair asked.

Jim shook his head, suddenly realizing the headache that had plagued him all the way back from Kennewick had disappeared. And he was able to control his dials with little effort. "But I will take some hot chocolate."

"So what did you do in Kennewick?" Blair asked.

Jim noticed Blair's rapid heartbeat didn't match his calm tone.

"I ate at a steak place." Jim smiled wryly. "Or at least, I tried to. The steak tasted like sawdust. The baked potato was too salty. And the vegetables burned my mouth."

Blair's remorseful gaze met Jim's. "What about the dials?"

"I tried, Chief, but I couldn't get them to work."

"What about now?"

"They're fine. No trouble."

The teakettle whistled, drawing Blair's attention. He made a cup of tea for himself while Jim mixed up his hot chocolate. They returned to the living room and sat down at either end of the couch.

"Tell me what happened," Jim said firmly. He wasn't going to let Blair change the subject this time.

"I was walking home from Lisa's when this car without its headlights on comes out of nowhere and nearly runs me down. I had to jump into some thorny bushes so I wouldn't get hit, which is why I look like the son of Frankenstein." Blair shrugged as he stared into his cup. "I'm sure it was just a drunk driver."

Jim frowned, not liking what he was thinking. "Do you have any enemies?"

Blair's head came up sharply. "Why?"

"Because that sounded more like someone out to get you than a drunk driver." The anger in Jim's gut grew, flaming into fury. That somebody would try to hurt Blair engaged all his protective instincts.

"C'mon, Jim. Why would someone want to kill the town veterinarian?"

Jim noticed Blair didn't meet his eyes. "What are you hiding from me, Blair?"

The vet stood and began to pace. "I-I want to tell you, Jim, but I can't, all right?"

Jim stood and put himself in Blair's path. He caught Blair's arms, halting his nervous pacing. "I want to help you," he said softly.

Blair leaned his forehead against Jim's chest. "I know you do, and that's what makes this so damned hard." Blair's voice was muffled, but Jim didn't have any trouble understanding him. He raised his head to capture the older man's eyes. "I'm asking you to let it go, Jim. Can you do that for me?"

Every cell in Jim's body rebelled against letting it go, but he found he couldn't refuse him. "All right," he agreed reluctantly.

Blair's brilliant smile stabbed deep in Jim's chest, in the vicinity of his heart. "Thank you, Jim."

For a long moment, Jim stared down into Blair's impossibly dark blue eyes. Jim's body vibrated with need, but he managed to gain control. Barely.

"Think you'll be able to sleep?" Jim asked, his voice husky.

Blair stepped away from him. "Yeah, I think so. You?"

Jim nodded, smiling gently. "Yeah, I think so," he echoed.

They carried their cups into the kitchen and rinsed them.

"I'm going to check the locks," Jim said.

"I'll go with you."

Together, they made the rounds through the clinic then the living area, ensuring windows and doors were locked. Jim suspected it was no drunk driver who'd nearly hit Blair. Maybe it was Lisa since she hadn't taken the break-up well. That would also explain Blair's unwillingness to talk about the near hit and run.

"Goodnight, Chief," Jim said softly from his bedroom doorway.

"Night, Jim."

Vowing to protect Blair, Jim closed his bedroom door, but didn't go to bed. Instead, he sat there in the darkness, listening for anything that might pose a threat to his friend.

_________________________________

Jim was still seated in the chair by his bedroom window when he heard Blair get up to shower. He stood and stifled a groan at his body's stiffness. It'd been a long time since he'd spent the night in a chair and he wasn't getting any younger. But Jim didn't have a choice--he cared too much for Blair to allow anything to happen to him.

As he waited for Blair to finish in the bathroom, he did some stretching exercises, hoping to get the worst of the kinks out of his muscles. He spotted his cell phone, which he hadn't turned on since he'd arrived in the small town. Reluctantly, he turned it on and saw he had three messages.

He listened to them, not surprised to hear Lew Sandburg's voice on all of them. The man was getting desperate to find his nephew. Jim sighed and punched in Sandburg's number. After the sixth ring, a sleepy voice answered.

"Mr. Sandburg? It's Jim Ellison."

"It's about damned time, Ellison. Why aren't you answering your phone?"

"I was busy tracking down a lead, but it turned out to be a bust. I'm sorry, but I don't think Blair Sandburg wants to be found, if he's even still alive."

"Now look, Ellison, I hired you to do a job for me and I expect you to do it."

Jim rubbed his brow. "Hire someone else."

"Are you sure this person you tracked down isn't my nephew?"

Being honest with himself, Jim wasn't absolutely positive Dr. Sanborn wasn't Blair Sandburg without asking him. But Lew Sandburg didn't want him to do that. "Fairly certain."

"Where are you, Ellison?"

"Calumet, a little town in eastern Washington state."

"But you don't think this person is my nephew?"

"That's right."

"Fine. Send me your bill." Sandburg ended the call abruptly.

Jim stared at his phone, shaking his head. He was glad to be rid of Sandburg. Something about him grated on Jim's nerves.

He shook his head and called Simon Banks.

Blair remained rooted outside of Jim's door, unable to move. He'd gone to knock on Jim's door and tell him he could have the shower when he'd heard Jim talking to someone. He couldn't hear everything, but what he had managed to understand told him Jim had been hired to find him.

Oh, God, now what do I do?

He'd thought he could trust Jim, but now...

Swallowing back his anger and fear, Blair hurried into his bedroom and plopped down on his bed. Blair closed his eyes and did some deep breathing exercises to calm himself and play back what he'd overheard. He'd definitely heard Jim say Sandburg. But he'd also said his search was a bust. Right? So did that mean Jim didn't know he was Blair Sandburg?

He opened his eyes and stood. Everything he knew about Jim told him he was a decent man--a good man. Blair refused to believe Jim was a killer working for an amoral bastard like Garbelli. But if his search for Blair Sandburg was an innocent one, why didn't he just ask Blair outright if he was this person?

Okay, calm down.

Suddenly another thought sent his heart into overdrive again--what if it had been Jim trying to run him down last night? Granted, it had been a car, not a truck, but it wouldn't have been that difficult for Jim to rent a car, hide it someplace then use it to take Blair out without anyone the wiser.

Stop it!

If Jim wanted to kill him, he'd had numerous opportunities. Besides, why would an assassin help him if he was only there to murder him? No, there had to be some other explanation.

Blair counted to ten slowly and got dressed. He either believed in Jim or he didn't. It was as simple as that. And his heart was telling him Jim was on his side.

Squaring his shoulders, Blair went to make breakfast. He and Jim would be busy most of the day with the calves. There would also be other people around them in case Blair's belief was misplaced.

When Jim joined Blair in the kitchen, Blair was determined to act as if nothing had changed. But he'd watch Jim more closely and hope he hadn't lost his heart to a killer.

_________________________________

Jim wiped his sweaty brow with his forearm and wondered how many calves were left. That morning they'd arrived at the Saddlers ranch at seven and had gone to work immediately. They'd driven to the area where they were vaccinating the calves instead of riding this time. Lunch had been eaten at the ranch house with Ken and Joyce Saddler around eleven-thirty, but that had been four hours ago and Jim's stomach was growling again.

Jim held another calf down while Blair did his job swiftly and efficiently. The vet nodded and Jim removed the rope from the calf's neck to let it up to return to its mother.

"That was the last one," Blair announced.

"Finally. I'm starved."

Blair smiled slightly but didn't comment.

Jim frowned, again noticing a distance between them that hadn't been there yesterday. For some reason, Blair was much more subdued today. Although nearly being turned into roadkill last night might make anyone more subdued. Still, the younger man's unusual reticence bothered him.

The rancher wrote Blair a check and gave it to him when they stopped back at the ranch house before heading home. Neither Jim nor Blair had gotten kicked today, but merely wrestling the calves to the ground was enough to give Jim sore, aching muscles. Jim planned on taking his turn at soaking in a hot bath tonight.

Blair drove back to town with little conversation. Instead, the backdrop of some country music played quietly on the radio. Blair had confided he wasn't a big country fan, but that was the only radio station that came in without a lot of static. Jim allowed his senses to wander, instinctively knowing that his proximity to Blair would anchor them.

By the time they arrived back in town, it was almost six o'clock. They entered the clinic's front door and Blair checked for messages. Although he had some, nothing was pressing. Jim noticed an overnight package sitting on the reception desk.

"All right," Blair exclaimed as he picked up the package. He looked at Jim. "This is the book Dr. Stoddard recommended about tribal guardians."

Although Jim hoped it had information that would help him with his senses, he already knew what worked best to control them: Blair.

Jim contented himself with a hot shower while Blair started dinner. While Blair showered, Jim finished cooking the meal so they were able to eat as soon as the vet was done. After dinner, Blair curled up on the sofa with his new book and Jim did some laundry since he'd run out of clean clothes.

The evening was relaxing with none of the discomfort that had surrounded them throughout the day. Jim reveled in the serenity. He couldn't recall a single person he'd ever felt this comfortable with. After the busy day, both men made it an early night and went to their rooms a little after ten.

Sometime later, the phone rang, startling Jim awake. He glanced at the clock--almost midnight. He sat up and listened to Blair fumble for the phone. His sleepy voice answered, "Dr. Sanborn."

By the sound of Blair's voice, he knew something was wrong. He got out of bed and padded across the hall to the vet's room.

"What's going on?" Jim asked as soon as Blair was off the phone.

"Emergency. The Wilkes' mare went into labor but something's wrong," Blair explained as he pulled on his jeans.

"I'll go with you."

Jim returned to his room and quickly dressed. He joined Blair in the clinic part of the building as the vet gathered his equipment, including a pair of rubber barn boots and some old coveralls. Blair drove to a small farm ten minutes out of town. As they got out of the truck, they were met by a man about Jim's age but closer to Blair's stature.

"Thanks for coming out, Doc," the man said. "This is Moonstar's first foal and I'm afraid I'm going to lose both of them."

"I'll do what I can to make sure that doesn't happen," Blair reassured. "Ed Wilkes, this is Jim Ellison, a friend who's staying with me for a little while."

Too worried about his horse, the man merely nodded at Jim. Wilkes led them to the barn where the lights blazed. Jim squinted in the sudden brightness. Then the smell hit him, a sharp acrid scent that made Jim start coughing uncontrollably.

"Dial it down, Jim," Blair said.

He could feel Blair's hand on his arm and focused on that, then slowly diminished his sense of smell.

"What is that?" Jim asked hoarsely, wiping at his tearing eyes.

"Amniotic fluid," Blair replied tersely. "The mare's water has already broken."

"Over here," Wilkes said impatiently.

A horse lay in a large stall filled with fresh straw. Sweat darkened the mare's coat and her distended belly heaved with her breathing.

"When did her water break?" Blair asked as he tugged on the overalls and boots over his clothing and shoes.

"About forty minutes ago."

Blair bit his lower lip. "Contractions?"

Wilkes nodded. "Started right after her water broke."

"Damn," Blair whispered so softly Jim was certain Wilkes hadn't heard him.

Blair crooned softly to the mare as he dropped to his knees beside her. His hands moved over the horse, examining it with a confident touch.

The vet's grave expression told Jim how worried he was, but his voice was reassuring and soothing. "Looks like the foal is breech. If I can turn it and Moonstar has enough strength left, everything should work out."

"And if I waited too long?" Wilkes asked miserably.

Blair gave him a quick smile. "Think positive, Ed. Do you have more towels?"

Wilkes nodded and after one more glance at his horse, he hurried away.

Blair rolled up his right sleeve all the way to his bicep and rubbed some kind of liquid that smelled like antiseptic on his arm. Using some gel from another tube, he greased the same arm.

"What're you going to do?" Jim asked.

"The foal didn't turn like it should've so its hindquarters are facing the birth canal. I have to get it turned around so the front feet come out first."

"And how...oh." Comprehension struck Jim.

"Yeah. Oh," Blair echoed with a faint smile. "I didn't want to tell Ed, but Moonstar may be too weak to deliver even if I manage to turn the foal."

Jim grimaced.

Dropping to his knees behind the mare, Blair slipped his hand carefully inside the horse's birth canal and grimaced slightly.

Jim crossed his arms, his body stiff with tension as he watched Blair. The vet ran his free hand along the horse's side in a soothing, gentle manner. He also spoke in low tones to the animal, trying to calm her.

"I can feel the foal. It's definitely turned," Blair said quietly so he wouldn't spook the mare.

"Can you get it turned around?" Jim asked, his brow furrowed.

"I'm not sure." Blair laid down flat on his belly behind the animal's hindquarters and pushed his arm deeper into the mare, until he could go no further. "I can feel a leg, but I can't grab hold of anything to move the foal into the right position."

Abruptly, Blair tensed and squeezed his eyes shut.

"What's wrong?" Jim demanded, moving closer.

Blair's expression was etched in pain and he bit his lower lip.

Helpless, Jim hovered close to his friend. He could hear Blair's heartbeat go into overdrive and the little hitches in his breathing. He squatted down and touched Blair's leg. "Chief?"

Finally, Blair's body lost its tension and he breathed deeply. "It's okay. Just a contraction."

Jim remembered some of his college biology. The entire birth canal would've contracted, trying to expel the baby, and compressing Blair's arm like a vice. Ouch.

Blair's face became a mask of concentration and Jim dialed up his hearing. The mare's heartbeat was rapid, but the foal's was slower. Although he knew little to nothing about horses, the foal's rhythm sounded too sluggish.

Blair eased his arm out of the mare. "My arm just isn't long enough," he said in frustration.

"Do you think I could do it?" Jim asked.

Blair glanced at him in surprise. "Are you sure you want to try?"

"What'll happen if it doesn't get turned?"

"I'd have to try a caesarian, but I really don't want to do that. Chances are slim that Moonstar will survive."

Jim gazed at the rapidly tiring mare. "You can talk me through it, tell me what to do, right?"

Blair nodded somberly. "Take off your shirt."

Jim quickly removed it, leaving him in his tank T-shirt. He wrinkled his nose when Blair held up the antiseptic.

"Turn down your sense of smell, Jim," Blair advised. He waited until Jim nodded then rubbed the antiseptic on the older man's arm, followed by the gel. "Your sense of touch might help you here, Jim. I know it's going to feel kind of gross at first, but once you get past it, you'll be able to see with your touch."

"What do you mean?"

"Since your touch is so sensitive, you can better visualize what it is you're in contact with." Blair gazed at him expectantly. "Ready?"

Despite his nervousness, Jim nodded firmly. "Just tell me what to do, Chief."

"You got it."

Jim took Blair's previous position behind the mare and clenched his teeth. Focusing on his task, he slid his hand and arm into the mare. The passage was tight but slick with moisture.

"You're doing fine, Jim," Blair said. "Go slow and easy."

Jim finally touched something that moved slightly. "I-I think I found the foal."

"Okay. Good. Can you tell what you're touching?"

Jim closed his eyes, allowing his sense of touch to draw a picture in his mind. "I think it's a rear leg."

"That's what I thought I touched, too." Blair's hand settled on Jim's back, giving the older man a focal point. "You're going to have to push the foal back into the uterus so you can turn it around."

Jim took a deep, unsteady breath and pushed his arm into the canal a little farther, pushing the baby horse deeper into the womb. Then very carefully, he started turning the body.

"And watch out for the umbilical cord. You don't want to get that wrapped around the foal's neck," Blair warned.

Jim gritted his teeth and dialed up his touch even more. Sweat ran down Jim's forehead and dripped onto the straw beneath his cheek. He blinked against the salty burn in his eyes. Then Blair was blotting the moisture away with a soft cloth.

"You're doing great, Jim. What position is the foal in now?" Blair asked quietly.

"Almost there," he managed to say.

Suddenly, the walls around Jim's arm tightened even more with another contraction. With his sense of touch turned up, the pain was incredible, nearly making him black out.

"Hey, dial down, Jim. C'mon, man, listen to me. Dial it down," Blair said urgently, close to Jim's ear.

His heart stampeding, Jim gained control of the dial and viciously swept it downward. The pain eased to a tolerable pinching and finally the contraction ended. He let out a gust of air and became aware of Blair's hand rubbing circles between his shoulder blades.

"You're almost there, Jim," Blair encouraged. "I don't think Moonstar can take much more. Get the foal turned and ease the front legs toward the birth canal."

Jim quickly turned his touch back up and maneuvered the young animal into the correct position. "Okay."

"Good. Good. Now just ease your arm out, very slowly."

When Jim was free of the mare, he sat up and panted. "Now what?"

"Now we hope Moonstar can do the rest on her own."

They didn't have long to wait as the mare's belly rippled with another contraction, followed by another and another. One tiny hoof, then a second appeared. Blair knelt down and wrapped a towel around the two front legs. As another contraction rippled through the mare, Blair carefully pulled the towel downward, toward the mare's hocks. The tiny nose appeared and the shoulders. Then the rest of the foal gushed out of the birth canal, half falling into Blair's lap.

Jim's mouth dropped open in amazement as he stared at the tiny horse covered with mucus.

Blair, however, quickly went to work cleaning the membrane from the foal's head and nose. The foal coughed and heaved until it began breathing on its own.

Blair eased back, leaving the foal lying in the straw behind its mother. The umbilical cord remained attached, a lifeline between mother and child for a little longer.

Jim and Blair remained kneeling in the stall watching the miracle of life.

"Now what?" Jim whispered, not taking his eyes from the foal.

"Moonstar will stand and break the umbilical when she's ready, anywhere from half an hour to an hour. Then the placenta will pass," Blair replied, equally as hushed.

Wilkes returned to the barn, bearing an armload of towels. He froze when he spotted the foal. "Are they..."

Blair smiled. "So far, so good. I want to make sure Moonstar is strong enough to stand on her own. Then once the umbilical cord is broken, I'll put some iodine on the foal's naval."

Wilkes set the towels down and merely leaned against the stall in relief.

Blair stood. "I'm going to clean up. Jim?"

The older man suddenly became cognizant of the lubricating gel and mucus on his arm and wrinkled his nose. "Definitely."

"Go on in the house and tell Judy to come on out," Ed said. "She didn't want to watch in case things went bad."

Blair nodded and he and Jim trudged across the dim yard. The porch light was on and Blair knocked on the door. A woman Jim assumed was Judy let them into the house.

"Well?" she asked fearfully.

Blair smiled. "Go on out and see your new filly."

She clapped her hands and smiled widely. "Thank you, Dr. Sanborn. I was so afraid that we'd lose Moonstar."

"She's tired but I think she'll be just fine." Blair held up his hands. "Could we use the bathroom to wash?"

"Down the hall and the first door on the left," she said.

Then she hurried outside.

The two men took turns cleaning in the bathroom sink.

"Does it always feel this good?" Jim asked contemplatively.

Blair smiled, knowing what Jim meant. "Oh, yeah, it's a rush." Blair wiped his hands and arms with a thick towel. "You did great, Jim."

Embarrassed, Jim ducked his head. "I couldn't have done it without you telling me what to do and helping me with the senses."

"We did make an awesome team, didn't we?" Blair's eyes twinkled. He hung his towel on a rack and left the crowded bathroom.

"We do," Jim agreed softly.

Back in the barn, the mare struggled to her feet and the cord broke. Blair disinfected the naval stump on the filly then got out of the way.

"Do you want to take care of the enema?" Blair asked.

Ed nodded. "Got it covered, Doc. We can take it from here."

"Are you sure Moonstar's all right?" Judy asked.

Blair glanced at the mare as she licked her foal. "She'll be just fine. If the placenta isn't expelled within a few hours, call me. But it's already starting, so everything should be just fine."

Jim and Blair gathered up Blair's things then bid the Wilkes goodnight. They drove the short distance back to town in satisfied silence.

Jim took a quick shower when they returned. As he came out of the bathroom in his boxers, he noticed the kitchen light was on and padded down the hall. Blair was sitting by the table, drinking a cup of what smelled like herbal tea.

"Something wrong?" Jim asked.

"Nah, just wired," Blair replied.

Jim leaned against a counter facing Blair. "I can see why you went into veterinary medicine. You've got a gift."

Blair shrugged, keeping his gaze aimed at his tea. "Maybe. But it wasn't my first choice."

"So why didn't you stay with anthropology?"

"It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you it someday." Blair smiled slightly as he glanced at Jim, his gaze straying up and down the lean body.

Jim heard Blair's heartbeat increase and saw his pupils dilate slightly. He frowned, wondering what had triggered the physiological changes.

"You were really something, Jim," Blair said, changing the subject. "I'll bet you'd make a great doctor with your senses."

"But my bedside manner would suck."

Blair chuckled. "Oh, I don't know. I'd think you'd have a pretty good bedside manner."

Jim tipped his head to the side, trying to figure out if there'd been a hint of flirtatiousness in Blair's voice. Before he could decide, Blair's expression sobered.

"Why are you here, Jim?"

He blinked, caught off-guard by the question. "I told you. I'm in between jobs and just doing some traveling."

"No. Why are you here now?"

"I'm not following you, Chief."

"I can understand the travel gig, but why haven't you moved on? I mean, wrestling cattle, delivering a breech foal, it's not exactly fun in the sun."

"You said you'd help me with my senses and believe me, helping you out is a small price to pay to keep my sanity."

"You're not crazy, Jim," Blair said vehemently.

Jim looked away, feeling oddly vulnerable. "Thanks to you."

Blair stood and carried his empty cup to the sink. He turned around and mirrored Jim's stance. "Burton mentioned something about the sentinel having someone to help him with his senses."

"Sentinel?"

"What he called people with five enhanced senses," Blair explained. "Was there anyone in Cascade that helped you?"

Jim shook his head without hesitation. "No. Only you've been able to help, Chief."

Blair's eyes widened and he lifted his hands. "No way, man. I'm just a veterinarian."

"You're the only person who's been able to talk me through the weird sensory spikes," Jim said stubbornly. "Before I came here, I was a mess. I figured I was on a one way street to Conover."

Blair stepped into Jim's space and tipped back his head to spear him with a piercing gaze. "You are not crazy, Jim. You have a gift."

Jim laughed bitterly. "Yeah, a gift. My father used to call me a freak because of the damned senses so I shut them off. I ignored them and they went away."

Blair's breath caught in his chest as he imagined Jim as a boy, trying so hard to live up to his father's expectations. But always falling short. He gripped Jim's arms. "Your father was wrong, Jim. Your senses didn't make you a freak, they made you special."

Another harsh laugh. "Right. Special. Isn't that what they call people who are different? Special?"

"And what's so wrong about being different? Hell, if everyone was alike, life would be pretty damned boring and there wouldn't be a need for anthropologists or cops or a lot of other professions. Is that what you want?"

Confusion filled Jim's eyes. "I just want to be a cop again. Is that too much to ask?"

Blair squeezed Jim's arms. "Not at all. In fact, with your senses you're going to be an even better cop than you used to be. Can you imagine using your senses at a crime scene? Hell, you're a walking crime lab."

Jim chuckled weakly, but it appeared genuine this time. "If you tell me I'm going to have to put on tights and a cape, so help me, Chief."

Blair laughed. "Are you kidding? I don't have a death wish, man."

As their amusement faded away, Blair became cognizant of Jim's warm, vital skin beneath his hands. Blair's sweatpant-clad legs brushed Jim's bare ones, increasing his awareness of the older man. Whether Jim was a sentinel or a cop or one of Garbelli's men, Blair was attracted to him. Had been since the moment he'd first seen him, yet he'd denied the feeling and reminded himself that he lived in a small town now and everyone expected him to settle down with Lisa. But he'd walked away from that relationship in large part because of the man in front of him.

Staring into Jim's heavy-lidded blue eyes, Blair was startled to see a reflection of his own muddled feelings. Could Jim be attracted to him?

Uncertain of everything but his wish to help Jim learn to live with his senses, Blair released him and backed away. There was a flash of disappointment in Jim's expression, but it was so fleeting Blair could have imagined it.

"So you think these senses will make me a better cop?" Jim asked, obviously trying to bring back their equilibrium.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely, man."

"But first I have to learn control."

Blair nodded. "And I'll help you do that, Jim."

"What about when I return to Cascade? What did Burton say about the sentinel working without his helper?"

Blair shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "All that I've read so far says that the sentinel and his guide stay together."

Jim's gaze slid away and he nodded slowly. "In other words, you can teach me how to control my senses but it'll only work if you're beside me."

"We don't know that."

Jim rubbed his eyes. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go to bed." He started down the hall.

"It'll be okay," Blair called after him.

Jim paused and turned around slowly. His tall lean figure seemed to fill the hallway, but it was his anguished blue eyes that captured Blair. "Sure, whatever you say, Chief," he said softly then disappeared into his room.

Blair wrapped his arms around his waist. It was obvious Jim didn't believe him, that he wouldn't be able to control his senses without Blair's presence. But there was no way the younger man could go back to Cascade. Garbelli was out now and even if he wasn't actively looking for him, if he or one of his men spotted Blair it was doubtful Blair would remain breathing. He'd probably disappear one day, his body never found.

If only Blair's life wasn't a lie. If only he could stay with Jim. Be his guide. And maybe more.

He shivered but he wasn't certain if it was from the cold within or outside.

_________________________________

The morning came too early for Blair after he'd restlessly tossed and turned until nearly five before finally falling asleep. By the time he showered and stumbled into the kitchen, it was eight o'clock. His first appointment would arrive at nine which gave him an hour to wake up.

He was surprised to find the kitchen empty, but the half full coffee pot told him Jim was already up and had probably eaten breakfast. He always picked up after himself so it was difficult to say for certain.

Uneasy about Jim's absence, Blair filled a cup with coffee and wandered down the hall to check his friend's room. The door was ajar and he pushed it open further. At first he thought Jim had left, but then spotted Jim's bag peeking out from beneath the bed. He breathed a sigh of relief and wandered outside.

"Morning, Chief," Jim greeted him.

Blair spun around, nearly spilling his coffee. Jim was wearing a T-shirt and jeans as he sanded an old oak table that had been in the shed. "What're you doing?"

"I thought I'd refinish this. You could either sell it or replace your table." Jim shrugged. "Whatever you want to do."

Blair joined him and leaned against the shed to watch the sentinel work. Often Jim would pause, run his fingers or hand along the table, then frown and begin sanding again. For a moment, Blair was envious of the table.

"It's never going to be sentinel perfect," Blair said with a smile.

Jim glanced up, startled, as if he hadn't known Blair was there. But with his senses, that was impossible. His cheeks reddened slightly. "You're probably right, but I want to get it as smooth as I can."

Blair contented himself observing Jim, noting the little puckers in his brow when he didn't like how the table felt. And how his jaw clenched as he concentrated on going with the grain of the wood. Jim stopped sanding and placed his hand on the area he'd just worked. His eyes became unfocused and his features slackened.

"Jim?" Blair said hesitantly.

No answer.

Blair could barely make out the slow rise and fall of Jim's chest.

"Shit. The zone-out factor." Blair quickly went to Jim's side. For a long moment, he had no clue what to do. Then he let his instincts guide him and he touched Jim's still hand. "Jim, c'mon back, man. Hear my voice and follow it back." A part of Blair thought he should feel foolish, but the larger part of him recognized what he was doing. He was being Jim's helper--his guide. "Jim, focus on my voice."

Jim jerked slightly and took a deep shuddering breath. "Chief?" he asked, bewildered.

Their faces only inches apart, Blair had to concentrate to keep his mind on what had just happened. "Burton mentioned something about the zone-out factor. When the sentinel focused on one sense to the exclusion of the others, he would lose touch with the world."

Jim leaned against the shed. "That's what those are. I-I just thought I was going crazy." He smiled weakly. "I guess that's why the sentinel needs a babysitter, huh?"

"Not a babysitter, a guide," Blair corrected firmly.

"Same difference." Weariness twined through Jim's voice. "No wonder you don't want the job."

Blair shifted uncomfortably. "It's not that I don't want to be your guide."

"Whatever. But I wouldn't blame you. Hell, who'd want to be saddled with a forty-year-old cop with whacked-out senses?"

"I would," Blair said without hesitation. "But I can't go back to Cascade."

Jim's face hardened into a stone mask. "I understand."

Blair grasped Jim's wrist. "No, I don't think you do. Believe me, if I had a choice, I'd stay with you."

Jim's eyes darkened. "Then why?"

Blair closed his eyes, wishing for a moment Jim Ellison had never showed up, then thanking God he had. "I want to tell you but I can't."

Jim's eyebrows knitted in frustration. "You don't trust me."

Although Blair trusted him more than he'd trusted another person besides his mother, he couldn't reveal his identity. The Witness Protection program had gone through a lot of trouble creating his new identity and he didn't have the right to throw it all away. Besides, if they learned he'd told Jim, they'd whisk Blair away and plop him down in some other state with some other name. But how could he explain that to Jim without giving away his secret?

"I trust you. Honest, man. But it doesn't involve only me," Blair explained as best as he could.

Jim studied him then lifted a hand and curved it around the back of Blair's neck. "I don't know what's going on, Blair, but don't be afraid to come to me if you need anything." He leaned closer and said softly, "Anything at all."

Blair licked his suddenly dry lips. What would Jim do if he knew what Blair really wanted from him? Would he be outraged? Angry? Pitying?

"Doc?"

Jim moved away from Blair. Flustered, the vet glanced up to see Abby, his assistant, standing in the back door. "Morning, Abby. What is it?"

"Your first appointment will be here soon. It's Mrs. Shelby and she's always fifteen minutes early," Abby called.

"I'll be right in." Blair turned to Jim and forced a smile. "Duty calls."

Jim merely nodded.

Feeling restless and uneasy, Blair hurried inside. He refilled his coffee cup and grabbed a bagel then joined Abby in the clinic.

"He's still here?" Abby asked, arching one eyebrow.

Blair had to think for a moment. "You mean Jim?"

Abby rolled her eyes. "Yes, the hunk, Jim Ellison."

So even happily married pregnant women noticed Jim's attributes. Blair wasn't certain he liked that or not, even though he agreed with Abby's description. "He's staying to help with the calves."

"How'd you manage that?"

Blair shrugged. "He's between jobs right now so I asked him and he agreed. Simple as that."

Abby tipped her head to the side. "Maybe not so simple. I heard you broke up with Lisa."

Blair managed to restrain an impatient sigh. "Word travels fast."

"Lisa is my sister-in-law's first cousin."

Small towns...

"It wouldn't have worked out," Blair said with a wave of his hand.

"Is he planning on staying?"

"He who?"

Abby rolled her eyes. "Jim. I saw Ed Wilkes at Ethel's this morning. He was praising you and your 'partner' up one side and down the other."

Unexpected warmth curled through Blair. Partner. He liked that. "Jim saved both his mare and her foal." He couldn't mask his admiration for the sentinel.

"Brains and a bod. Potent combination." She paused. "For a man or a woman."

Uneasy with her observation, he headed for the area behind the reception room. "Let me know when Mrs. Shelby gets here."

He barely heard Abby's harrumph as he closed the door behind him.

_________________________________

The day passed quickly. Blair had some routine vaccinations and examinations, removed the stitches from a gash on a terrier, spayed a cat, neutered a dog, and diagnosed a few minor ailments.

"What do you say we go to Orley's Steakhouse for dinner?" Blair called to Jim who was showering after working on the table all day.

The bathroom door opened and Jim stepped out, wearing a towel around his lean hips. Blair kept his gaze locked on Jim's face, knowing if he gave in to temptation, his attraction to the man would become all too plain, especially to a sentinel with overactive senses.

"Sounds good," Jim said. "Give me a minute to get dressed."

Ten minutes later they walked side by side down the quiet main street to the town's only other restaurant besides Ethel's Diner.

"It smells good," Jim commented as they neared the steakhouse.

"It is. I like to eat here once or twice a week. I get my beef fix for the week that way."

Jim grinned and opened the restaurant door, allowing Blair to go in before him.

The young hostess who looked to be in high school greeted him effusively. "Hi, Dr. Sanborn. Where's Lisa?"

Blair forced his lips to hold a smile. "We broke up. This is a friend of mine, Jim Ellison."

"Hi, Mr. Ellison," the girl said, but it was clear her mind was on the break-up. She pulled out two menus and two rolled napkins with silverware. "Follow me. Your usual table okay?"

Blair nodded. "Fine. Thanks."

She led them to a booth in a corner where most of the customers couldn't see them. After bringing them each a glass of ice water, she returned to her station by the door.

"Pretty intimate," Jim commented.

Blair's face heated. "When I'd bring Lisa, we'd always get put back here."

"Sounds like the two of you came here a lot."

"I guess." Blair didn't want to talk about Lisa. "The prime rib is to die for. And wait until you taste their bread--homemade and warm, and they serve it with butter mixed with cinnamon."

As if hearing him, a waitress showed up with a basket of steaming bread and a small bowl of cinnamon butter. "Evening, Doc. Who's your friend?"

Sometimes Blair hated that everyone knew him. He managed not to sigh and introduced Jim to the middle-aged woman.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked.

"Coors," Jim said.

"Same," Blair said.

"Are you ready to order or do you want to wait until I bring back the beers?" the waitress asked.

"Could you give us a few more minutes?" Jim asked, flashing her a smile.

She nodded and scurried off to get their drinks.

When she returned, the two men ordered prime rib then sipped their beer from longneck bottles while they made small talk. Fifteen minutes later their meals appeared and they dug in, hungry after the busy day.

By the time they'd split a bowl of bread pudding with rum sauce, they were ready to roll home. The sun was low in the western horizon, heralding dusk.

"Man, I can't believe I ate so much. Why'd you make me order dessert?" Blair demanded, his eyes glinting with humor.

Jim smiled and wrapped an arm around Blair's shoulders. "Yeah, I really had to twist your arm, Chief."

Blair chuckled. "They do make the best bread pudding I've ever had."

"There was this place in Georgia, down by Fort Benning that made bread pudding as good as this."

"No way."

"Way," Jim said.

Blair laughed and pressed himself closer to Jim's side, feeling the strength and warmth of his friend's body. He tried to ignore the rush of desire that licked through his veins, but after the good meal, the pleasurable company, and now being so close to Jim, it was difficult to set aside his attraction to him.

Jim suddenly stopped and cocked his head to the side. "Get down," he shouted, forcing Blair onto the ground and covering his body with his own.

With Jim on top of him, Blair could barely breathe but he didn't have any trouble hearing the gunshot. Jim jerked and grunted. Horror filled Blair.

"Jim, are you okay? Jim!"

"Yeah, fine, Chief. You?"

"Can't breathe."

Jim stayed where he was and Blair could tell he was listening, using his sentinel hearing to determine if the gunman had fled. Then Jim rolled off him and Blair gulped in cool air.

"Stay down. I'm going after him."

"Jim," Blair shouted, but the sentinel had already dashed off.

People converged around him. "Are you okay, Doc?" "Somebody shot at him." "My God, I can't believe it."

"I'm not hurt," Blair said loudly enough to cut through the chatter. He climbed to his feet. "Did anybody see anything?"

"No, only heard it," one of the men said.

"We never had anything like this happen until that friend of yours showed up," another person said suspiciously.

"Nobody's after Jim," Blair said, too worried to hide his irritation. More likely they were after me.

But what if Jim had brought the assassin to town? No. If he'd done that, he wouldn't have saved Blair's life.

Speaking of Jim, where was he?

Blair frantically searched the area.

"Did anybody see where Jim went?" Blair asked, fighting the panic that clawed up his throat.

Shaking heads and puzzled grunts answered him.

Just when Blair was ready to tear away to look for him, someone said, "There he is. And look what he found."

Blair's gaze immediately sought Jim's face and he exhaled in a gust of relief. Although the sentinel appeared angry, he didn't seem to be hurt. He rushed over to him, finally noticing the man Jim hauled behind him and the scoped rifle in Jim's other hand.

"Who is he?" Blair asked.

"Charlie Finch," one of the townspeople said in disgust.

Blair blinked. "Lisa's ex-husband?"

Finch glared at Blair, his eyes insane with fury. "Nobody touches what's mine."

Blair instinctively took a step back, away from the man's virulence.

Jim gave the man a hard jerk. "Keep your mouth shut." His lips thinned with fury. "Did anyone call the police?"

The waitress from the steakhouse stepped forward. "I did. Sheriff Evers is on the way. Said he'd be here in about fifteen minutes."

"Is there any place I can put him until he gets here?" Jim asked, nodding toward the enraged Finch.

"There's a storage room in the back of the bar," someone said. "It's empty and don't got any windows."

A few minutes later, Charlie Finch's obscenities were muted by the storage room's locked door. Jim handed the rifle to one of the men. "I-I think I should sit down."

Then he slid down to the floor, leaving a smear of red on the wall behind him.

"Jim!" Blair sank to his knees beside him the sentinel.

The older man smiled but his pain-glazed eyes told Blair another story. "Sorry, Chief. Didn't want you to worry."

Although frightened by Jim's pallor and obvious pain, Blair's hands ghosted across Jim's torso. "Where were you hit?"

"Back. Shoulder."

"Can someone get me some hot water and clean cloths?" Blair called out, hoping his voice didn't sound as frantic as he felt. Then he eased Jim forward so his head was resting against Blair's chest. He immediately spotted the bloodstain and his heart missed a beat. "I have to take your shirt off." He leaned close, ignoring the small circle of onlookers, and whispered, "You need to dial down your sense of touch. Can you do that, Jim?"

The sentinel closed his eyes and his nostrils flared. His muscles tensed and Blair worried his lower lip as he rubbed Jim's arm. "It's okay. Relax. Find the dial and slowly turn it down."

Jim relaxed minutely then a little more until the creases in his brow smoothed out. "Got it, Chief."

"Good. That's real good, Jim. Now I'm going to take off your shirt so I can get a better look at the wound."

Blair unbuttoned Jim's shirt, his professionalism taking over so his fingers didn't tremble as much as his insides did. He probed the wound carefully and when a bowl of hot water and some cloths were handed to him, he gently wiped away the blood. Getting a good view of the injury, he breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief.

"The bullet grazed your shoulder blade so there's no entry or exit wound," Blair said.

Jim exhaled and his warm breath caressed Blair's neck. "I don't understand why it suddenly hurt so much. I've been shot before, worse than this, but it didn't feel this bad."

"It's because you're on-line now. You probably automatically dialed down your sense of touch when you went after the man who shot at us but now that the danger was past, the dial went out of control." Blair took a deep breath. "You need some stitches. Do you think you can make it to the office or should I get my bag and do it here?"

"Just help me up and you can do it over there," Jim said, already beginning to push himself upright.

Blair assisted him up and draped Jim's shirt over his shoulders. "Could someone make sure Finch doesn't get out and wait for the sheriff?"

"I'll do it," Larry Grant said, puffing out his chest slightly.

"Thanks. We'll be at my place."

The crowd parted to allow Jim and Blair to pass. As they approached the door, it was flung open and a woman came barreling through. She grabbed Blair's arm.

"I just heard. Charlie tried to kill you?" Lisa Finch asked, her voice bordering on hysteria.

Irrational anger swept through Blair and he reminded himself it wasn't Lisa's fault that her ex-husband was a psycho. "He had a rifle. Jim saved my life. He took the bullet meant for me."

Despite Lisa's distress, the look she shot Jim was cool. "I'm so glad you're all right, Blair."

"I'm not the one who was shot," Blair said with a hint of impatience.

"Oh, well, I'm glad you're both okay," she said stiffly.

"Look, Lisa, I have to get Jim over to my office and put some stitches in his wound. You should stay here. I'm sure Sheriff Evers will have some questions for you."

Without another glance at her, Blair gave his attention to Jim and tightened his arm around the older man's waist to help him out the door and up the half block to the clinic. Once there, Blair had Jim sit on a stool in one of the exam rooms. He quickly retrieved a needle and nylon thread to suture the wound.

"I have some local anesthesia that I could use but with your sensitivities I'm a little worried about how you'll react," Blair said. "Do you think you can keep your dial turned down?"

Jim caught Blair's wrist to halt his nervous motions. "As long as you're here, I can do it," he said softly.

Blair stared into Jim's blue eyes and before he could stop himself, he leaned over and kissed the sentinel. Just a short, gentle brush of their lips. Realizing what he'd done, Blair moved behind Jim to hide his embarrassment. He also didn't want to see the revulsion in his friend's face, if that was Jim's reaction.

Plunging himself into his professional persona, Blair stitched the wound up quickly and efficiently. When he tied the last knot, the shakes threatened him. But the sound of someone entering the clinic kept his delayed reaction at bay.

"Dr. Sanborn?"

"Back here, Sheriff," Blair called.

Sheriff Evers entered the exam room, his expression somber beneath his Smokey the Bear hat. "I hear you had some excitement tonight."

Blair folded a piece of gauze and placed it over Jim's wound, then taped it in place. He came around his friend, but his gaze was on the fifty-something sheriff. "Have you talked to Finch?"

Evers grimaced. "More like I listened to his ranting. I talked to his ex-wife, Lisa, and a few of the townsfolk. They said you and Mr. Ellison here were walking back from Orley's when Finch took a shot at you."

Blair crossed his arms. "That's about it, Sheriff."

Evers switched his attention to Jim. "You're new around here, aren't you?"

Jim nodded. "I was just passing through last week when Blair--Dr. Sanborn--offered me a job. Since I was between jobs, I decided to take him up on his offer."

"Where are you from?"

"Cascade. I was a police detective there. I'm on a leave of absence." Jim glanced down. "Medical reasons."

Evers eyed him warily.

"Call Cascade PD and ask for Captain Simon Banks in Major Crimes. He can vouch for me," Jim said flatly.

"I'll do that." Evers turned back to Blair. "Charlie Finch admitted to trying to run you down Sunday night, too."

Blair's eyes widened. "That was him? I thought it was--" he broke off and cleared his throat, startled by how close he'd come to blurting out Garbelli's name. "I thought it was someone who'd had too much to drink."

"So when were you going to report it?" Evers asked, one eyebrow arched.

Blair's face heated. "Uh, well, I didn't really plan to."

Evers merely shook his head. "I'm going to need your statements. Both of you."

Half an hour later, Sheriff Evers departed. Blair immediately turned his attention to Jim. "How's the dial?"

"It's slipped some, but not too bad," Jim replied.

"Do you want a painkiller?"

"No. I don't want to chance it. I'll be okay, as long as you're nearby."

Blair smiled. "I'm not going anywhere."

Jim gazed at him, his gaze softening. For a long moment, they merely looked at one another. Blair couldn't help but recall their kiss and was relieved that Jim didn't act outraged. What if the attraction wasn't one-sided?

"Come on. Let's go to the living room. You'll be more comfortable there," Blair said.

After shutting off the lights in the clinic and ensuring the door was locked, the two men walked back to the living area.

"I'm going to throw on some sweats," Jim said.

"Be careful of your shoulder."

Jim smiled and nodded before disappearing into his room.

Blair also changed into his gray ratty sweatpants and sweatshirt. A bare-chested Jim was in the living room when he returned, holding a denim button down shirt in his hand and wearing navy blue sweatpants that clung to his hips and followed the curve of his ass.

"Could you help me?" Jim asked hesitantly.

"No problem."

Holding the shirt up, Blair guided Jim's injured arm into the sleeve carefully. Jim's jaw clenched but he didn't utter a sound. When the shirt was on, Blair began to button it. Jim's good hand stayed his fingers.

"Leave it open. I'm warm," Jim said, his voice husky.

Blair's heart kicked his ribs. He wanted to kiss Jim again, but this time he wouldn't stop with a barely-there brush of their lips.

"Sit down on the sofa. Can I get you anything?" Blair asked, heading into the kitchen.

"Only you," Jim replied.

Blair froze and met Jim's searing gaze across the room. He swallowed once, then again and nodded.

He joined Jim on the sofa, leaving six inches between their bodies and turned on the television. Fortunately he had a satellite dish so surfing all the channels took a while, giving him time to gather his careening thoughts. He settled on the Discovery channel.

Jim plucked the remote from his hand and put his good arm across the back of the sofa, behind Blair.

"How's the pain dial?" Blair asked, searching for a safe subject.

"Good." He studied Blair closely. "My sense of smell is a little high though."

Blair, his expression earnest, turned on the cushion so one leg was folded on the couch and the other foot was on the floor. "Let's get it turned down then."

Jim shook his head. "No. I like your scent, especially when we kissed."

No longer was the pink elephant invisible.

"Um, you did?" Blair squeaked.

"I did." Jim wrapped his hand behind Blair's neck and urged him closer. "In fact, I'd like to do it again."

This time there was no hesitancy on either man's part and their lips met in a passionate duel that was both rough and tender. Blair reveled in the feel of Jim's lips on his and his whiskers rasping against his own. Another realization dawned as he began to lose himself within Jim's gentle strength. It hadn't been Garbelli or one of his cronies who'd tried to run him down. It had only been Lisa's ex-husband. Which meant Jim wasn't involved with Garbelli.

This was a small town and his sexuality might be a problem if it was known he liked men as well as women, but Jim didn't live here and he wouldn't be staying. The latter drove a spear through Blair's heart, but he set aside the pain. He had this moment with Jim and he wasn't going to waste it.

Lying back on the sofa, Blair eased Jim over his body, careful of his wounded shoulder. It wasn't long before their sweatpants were shoved out of the way and need took over. Murmuring endearments between frenzied kisses and nips, Jim and Blair attained their release at the same moment.

Jim's weight settled onto Blair, but the younger man didn't mind. He decided there was nothing better than a Jim blanket and fell asleep with his arms around his lover.

_________________________________

Jim opened his eyes and it took him a moment to realize where he was--curled up around Blair's warm body in the younger man's bed. Musky scents filled him and he closed his eyes, remembering the frantic lovemaking before they'd fallen asleep on the sofa. Sometime later they'd awakened and stumbled into Blair's bedroom to sleep the rest of the night.

Although it was dark, Jim had no problem seeing his lover's sleep-slackened features. A hint of drool lay at the corner of his lips and Jim smiled affectionately. When Blair had kissed him the first time, Jim had been shocked. And ecstatic. His senses hadn't lied--Blair was interested in him.

This was the first time since his senses had come on-line that he'd been able to make love. Not that he hadn't tried. The memories of the two instances he'd attempted to have sex had been disasters. Both women had patted him on the back and assured him that sometimes that happened. Even thinking about the unsuccessful attempts made him burn with humiliation. But with Blair it had felt natural....right. In fact, it felt like something inside him finally clicked into place. If he wasn't so pragmatic, he might think he'd found his soul mate.

But Jim wasn't a romantic--his former wife had told him that often enough. Oh, he always started out right. While he was dating, it wasn't uncommon for him to send his current lady friend flowers. However, after he married Carolyn, the romance fizzled not long after the wedding. Jim was convinced he wasn't intended to be tied to one woman for the rest of his life.

But what about being tied to a man? Hell, he'd never even considered it. Sure, he'd done some fooling around when he was younger but love and commitment were supposed to be given to a woman. However, Dr. Blair Sanborn was like no one he'd ever met before, male or female. Sure, he helped Jim control his senses, but it was Blair himself--his compassion, respect for life, and generosity--that had drawn Jim to him. Of course, the physical attraction couldn't be denied either. Even now, Jim had no trouble recalling Blair's strength and hardness as they'd moved against one another. He didn't have to be afraid of hurting Blair and their passions were well-matched.

Jim's musings were interrupted by a change in Blair's breathing pattern. At first, he thought Blair was waking up, but when the vet began to moan and toss and turn, Jim realized he was having another nightmare.

"Blair, wake up," Jim said close to him. "Come on, Blair. It's only a dream."

Blair's eyes flashed open and he sat up, his motion so unexpected Jim was shoved back and he landed on his sore shoulder. Pain lightninged through him and, for a moment, he thought he'd pass out, then he wished he would.

"Jim! Oh, God, Jim. Can you hear me?" Blair's frantic voice seeped through his agony. "Find the dial, Jim, and dial it down. Come on, man, I know you can do it."

Jim fought to turn the damned dial and finally succeeded. His brow was damp with sweat when he finally emerged from the pain-induced near zone.

"I'm soooo sorry, Jim. I didn't know... Didn't see you," Blair babbled.

With his uninjured arm Jim reached up and clutched Blair's hand. "Calm down, Chief. I'm fine now. It's okay."

Blair clamped his mouth shut but Jim could hear the telltale racing of his heart.

"Lie down and tell me about your nightmare, " Jim coaxed gently, hoping to get Blair's mind off his guilt.

With a shaking hand, Blair wiped the sweat from his forehead and carefully eased back down beside Jim, although he kept some space between them. Jim deliberately moved closer until their shoulders were touching.

Jim listened to Blair's pulse slow its rapid beat. He kept quiet, giving the younger man some time to gather his thoughts.

Finally Blair turned on his side and propped his head on his hand as he gazed down at Jim. "It was the same dream, only this time you were in it."

"The dream about stepping off a cliff?"

Blair nodded. "Although no words were spoken, I knew I was supposed to make a choice. You were standing on the other side of this wide chasm. I could either turn around and walk away from the cliff's edge or take that step toward you."

Jim frowned. "This dream takes place in a jungle?"

"Yes. It reminded me of a rain forest in South America."

"Peru?"

"Maybe. Why?"

Jim took a deep breath. "I had the same type of dream when I was stranded in Peru for eighteen months. But I couldn't see the person on the other side."

Blair's eyes widened. "What did you do?"

"I never had to make a decision. A few days after I had the dream, I was rescued."

"But didn't you have the dream when you got home?"

"No," Jim said softly. "Until seven months ago."

"It came back?" Blair asked, excitement thrumming in his body and voice.

"It wasn't exactly the same one, but I was in the jungle again and this big black cat was always there, staring at me as if waiting for something. One night he jumped at me and right after that is when my senses went haywire."

Blair's expression became thoughtful and Jim could imagine hearing the gears turn in his head.

"Maybe the cat is a mystical representation of your abilities," Blair mused aloud. "That would make sense since many tribes believed in animal spirits and a sentinel would have a powerful one."

Jim chuckled. "Isn't that a little out there, Chief?"

Blair's expression remained somber. "Not at all. Despite our modern society that shuns concepts like animal spirits as superstitions of an inferior race, numerous past cultures are rooted in the spirit world. Since they lived much closer to the earth than we do, it makes a lot of sense."

Jim still wasn't convinced, but it was fascinating listening to the former anthropology student. "Maybe so, but I'm a product of modern society. I don't believe in that kind of stuff."

Blair smiled. "Maybe you don't, but your animal spirit does."

Jim merely shook his head, knowing he wouldn't be able to persuade Blair that it had only been a dream. Nothing more. Except that Blair was having the same type of dream...

The radio alarm came on, announcing the time and temperature in Kennewick. Jim would've preferred staying in bed with Blair for at least another hour, maybe three or four, but he knew his lover had appointments. Thank heavens they didn't have to go out to a ranch to vaccinate calves . Jim would be little to no help with his injured shoulder.

Blair smiled ruefully as if sensing Jim's reluctance to leave the bed. He leaned down and molded his lips to Jim's. The sentinel's wrapped his good arm around the smaller man's shoulders and pulled him in close to his chest. They separated slowly, their breaths mingling.

"This evening," Blair whispered.

Jim's heart kicked his ribs as he nodded.

While Blair showered, Jim went into the kitchen to put on the coffee and start breakfast. Later, sitting side by side with their knees touching, they ate the scrambled eggs and toast Jim had made.

Blair glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and stood, tossing his napkin on the table. "I've got an eight-thirty appointment."

Jim rose and clasped his lover's wrist before he could race away. He cupped Blair's cheek, his thumb caressing his smooth-shaven skin. "I'm going to be refinishing the table in the back."

Blair nodded, his senses tumbling from Jim's feather-light touch. "I'll be busy all morning, but we can have lunch together at noon."

Jim smiled. "Sounds like a plan." Then he kissed Blair gently and released him. "I'll see you later."

Knowing he was grinning like a lovesick fool and not giving a damn, Blair left.

Although he had appointments all morning, Blair still found that time dragged. He missed Jim and couldn't help but remember what had happened between them the night before. He'd never before felt this way about a woman or a man, and he was stunned to realize he was in love with Jim. But it was tempered with the reality of Jim's transitory situation and his own hidden life. A future together was impossible.

He shoved aside the depressing thought. Whatever happiness they had now, Blair would embrace. There would be time enough after Jim left to mourn what might've been.

Blair finished his last appointment before lunch time and followed Mrs. Langer and her cocker spaniel into the reception area. He bid them farewell then turned to Abby. "What time is my first afternoon appointment?"

Abby glanced down at the appointment calendar. "Two-thirty."

Blair smiled, thinking about what he and Jim could do in two and a half hours. "Are you going home for lunch?"

Abby studied Blair for a long moment and a devilish sparkle entered her eyes. "Why? You hoping to get a quickie, Doc?"

Blair's face burned with embarrassment as he wondered how she'd guessed his thoughts so accurately.

She stood and patted his arm. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone." She waddled to the door, her eight-plus month pregnancy obvious. "Have fun, Doc." She winked and left the office.

Stunned by her open-mindedness, Blair remained rooted in place. Although Abby liked to gossip as well as the next person, she was loyal. She would keep his secret.

Suddenly the door opened again and Blair expected to see Abby returning for something she'd forgotten. Instead, a face from his past turned his blood to ice.

Michael Garbelli.

The Mafioso was flanked by two apes in suits that stretched taut over bulging muscles. Each held a gun in his fist. If he hadn't been so shocked, Blair might have laughed at the stereotypical picture.

Garbelli had lost weight in prison but his blue eyes were just as cold. And his smile was anything but friendly. "So we meet again, Mr. Sandburg. Or is it Dr. Sanborn?"

Although trembling, Blair lifted his chin. "What're you doing here, Garbelli?"

The man nodded to one of his thugs, who locked the door and put the Closed sign in the window. Garbelli strolled over to Blair, stopping less than a foot from him. Although Blair wanted nothing more than to run, he knew he wouldn't get far before a bullet found his back.

"How'd you find me?" Blair demanded, damning the quaver that crept into his voice.

"I hired a private investigator," Garbelli replied.

Jim pushed through the back door and his gaze took in the tableau. "What're you doing here, Sandburg?"

Blair's breath stuttered in his chest, but when he glanced at Jim he saw the sentinel's startled gaze was on Garbelli. What was going on?

"And there's my private eye," Garbelli said, smiling at Jim.

A shock worse than he'd experienced at Garbelli's arrival rifled through Blair. So Jim had been searching for him...hired by Garbelli. The color drained from his face. "Y-you know him, Jim?" he managed to ask the sentinel.

Jim nodded. "Lew Sandburg. He hired me to find his nephew Blair. I came here because I thought you might be him but I called him and told him it was a bum lead." He switched his attention to the suited man and narrowed his eyes. "So what're you doing here?"

"I thought I would check out this 'bum lead' myself. It seems you've found Blair Sandburg, Mr. Ellison."

Confusion swirled across Jim's features as his gaze ping-ponged between Garbelli and Blair.

Betrayal and bitter anger swept through Blair and he glared at Jim. "What the hell did you do?"

"What're you talking about?" Frustration and bewilderment threaded through Jim's voice.

Garbelli laughed, but it was a cruel nasty sound. "I owe you, Mr. Ellison. I've been searching for Blair Sandburg ever since his testimony put me in prison seven years ago."

Jim's face paled. "Blair?" he asked his lover softly.

Despite Blair's chaotic emotions, he realized Jim had been duped by Garbelli. He took a deep breath. "Garbelli ordered my mother killed seven years ago."

"Naomi?"

Blair nodded, his throat tight. "I testified against him and then was put in the Witness Protection Program. I've been Jacob Sanborn for the last seven years."

Jim turned his glare to Garbelli. "You used me, you bastard."

Garbelli merely shrugged. "I did what I had to. And I want to commend you for finding him when no one else had been able to."

With a roar, Jim launched himself at the Mafioso, but was stopped by his two thugs. Jim tried to fight, but he was no match for them, especially with his injured shoulder. He dropped to the floor, blood smeared across his face from the ham-sized fists.

Blair rushed over to him and knelt down. "Dial it down, Jim," he crooned softly.

One of the goons jerked Blair to his feet and tore him away from the sentinel.

"You won't get away with this. It's a small town and people will notice you," Blair fired at Garbelli.

"I doubt it." Garbelli didn't seem fazed. "Take him out to the car," he ordered his men.

"What about him?" One of the thugs motioned toward Jim who lay on the floor, semi-conscious.

"Leave him. After all, I do owe him for finding Sandburg."

Blair's head spun and he fought the nausea that crawled up his throat. Wittingly or unwittingly, Jim had led Garbelli to him. Yet Blair's heart couldn't turn away from Jim. Even now, he wanted nothing more than to go back to Jim and help him.

As the thugs steered Blair out of the office, the vet began to whisper, "419-555-6308. 419-555-6308." He continued the near-silent litany, hoping Jim would hear him and remember the phone number.

Blair didn't stop whispering until the dark-colored sedan with its tinted windows was a mile down the road.

_________________________________

Jim heard the heavy footsteps clump down the steps and by sheer force of will combined with burning rage, he pushed himself to his feet. He weaved for a moment then pushed through the door in time to see the black sedan driving away. He managed to get the first four numbers of the license plate even as he mentally repeated the number Blair chanted under his breath.

He rushed back into the office and picked up the phone then dialed the number. It was picked up after the first ring.

"Agent Wilcox."

"Blair Sandburg's been taken by a man called Garbelli," Jim said through gritted teeth.

"Who is this?"

"Jim Ellison. Garbelli found Blair and took him away in a black sedan. I've got a partial plate for you."

"How do you know--"

"I'll explain later. Now we have to find Blair before Garbelli kills him." If Jim could've reached through the phone line and shook the agent he would've. He gave Wilcox the partial plate.

"Where are you?" the agent demanded.

"In Blair's veterinary clinic. They just drove away a few minutes ago."

"We've got agents on the way. Stay there." Then Wilcox hung up.

Jim slammed the receiver down and growled some choice words. He stumbled back to his bedroom, grabbed his gun and truck keys. A minute later, he was flooring the accelerator as he went after Blair.

_________________________________

Trapped between Garbelli and one of his thugs in the back seat, Blair knew he didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of escaping. At least, not right now. Once they stopped and got out of the car, he'd have to be ready to make his move. For now, all he had was time to think and his mind kept returning to Jim.

Was he involved with Garbelli? If he wasn't, why didn't the Mafioso kill him? Or was Garbelli Jim's boss all along? If so, why had Jim made love with him last night? In fact, why did Jim tell Garbelli Jacob Sanborn wasn't Blair Sandburg? And hadn't Jim said that Garbelli had called himself Lew Sandburg, and was hiring Jim to find his nephew Blair?

Blair's thoughts kept running in circles, but one thing was clear--Jim had been duped by Garbelli. Of course, that didn't change anything. Blair was still in Garbelli's clutches and would probably be dead by the end of the day. Just when Blair connected with someone he could love for the rest of his life, it appeared his life would be cut short. Unless Jim received his message and got a hold of Agent Wilcox. He clung to that hope with the desperation of a man at the end of his rope.

"We've got a tail," the other goon announced from the driver's seat.

Garbelli turned to look out the back window and swore. "It's Ellison."

"I can't lose him out here."

"Then try to outrun him and if that doesn't work, take him out," Garbelli growled.

Fear sliced through Blair for Jim's life. He turned his head, trying to see out the back window but a sharp jab in his side brought a gasp and he faced forward again. "It's me you want," Blair said. "Don't hurt Jim."

As soon as he said it, Blair knew he'd made a tactical error. He'd given Garbelli a weapon to use against him.

The Mafioso smiled coldly. "So that's why Ellison's been hanging around. He didn't look the type but then nowadays it's hard to tell. Maybe we'll just capture him and make you watch while we slowly kill him."

Momentary dizziness swam through Blair and impotent rage made him clench his fists. "Leave him be." But even as he spoke, Blair knew it was a hopeless plea.

A sharp curve in the road made Blair lean against the thug on his left side and the car's brake-squealing stop sent him crashing against the back of the front seat. The breath whooshed from his lungs and the next seconds were used to find air. By the time he managed to suck in some oxygen, the two thugs were outside the car.

Blair jerked around to see Jim's truck sitting crosswise across the road. He must've slammed on his brakes to avoid hitting the car. Blair watched in horror as one of the goons opened Jim's truck door and jerked the sentinel out. Blood streamed from Jim's forehead and he appeared groggy.

Before Garbelli could stop him, Blair slid out of the back seat and ran toward his injured lover. One of the hired guns threw out a meaty arm and grabbed Blair around the chest. Blair struggled but he didn't have a chance against the steel muscles. He cast his frantic gaze to Jim, searching his face and grimacing at the blood that dripped onto the ground from the gash. Although he knew even minor head wounds bled profusely, panic threatened him.

"Let me check his wound," he pleaded.

Garbelli joined them, smoothing the lapels of his three thousand dollar suit. He inspected Jim with a casual glance. "He'll live." He paused. "For now."

Jim fought the pain that flooded him and grasped at Blair's heartbeat, using it to anchor his out-of-control senses. His head and shoulder throbbed, but he was able to bring the pain level to below normal. However, he remained limp in the goon's hold. As he tried to figure out how to save both Blair and himself, he heard Blair's whisper, "On three. One, two, three."

Jim jerked upward, slamming the back of his head against the thug's chin. There was a loud crack and the goon tumbled back, onto the ground. Jim spared at glance at Blair who'd elbowed the goon holding him in the gut. Blair grabbed Jim's arm. "We gotta get out of here."

With the two thugs temporarily incapacitated, Blair and Jim had only moments to escape. They ran off the road into the heavy brush. A bullet whizzed past them and struck a tree to Jim's right. Jim and Blair ducked instinctively and continued their pell-mell trek.

Thorns and branches grabbed at Jim but he stubbornly ignored them, intent on getting Blair to safety. His vision blurred and he wiped a wrist across his eyes. He was startled to see blood staining his sleeve. Damn. The head wound. He savagely twisted the touch dial down until he could feel nothing but Blair's hand in his.

Jim stumbled and fell to his knees, shocked that his nerves didn't even register the impact with the hard-packed earth. Then the dial slipped and pain hit him with the force of a Mack truck.

"Jim, c'mon, man, we have to keep going," Blair said, kneeling beside him with his hands on his shoulders.

Nodding, Jim allowed Blair to help him to his feet. This time Blair led the way. Jim clung to Blair's hand, the only thing that kept him from drifting into unconsciousness. He stumbled again and flew forward, knocking Blair to the ground and barely managing to avoid falling on him.

"How're you doing?" Blair asked anxiously, his blue eyes even darker in his pale complexion.

Jim shook his head, like a boxer shaking off a strong uppercut. "F-feel like I'm f-floating. No feeling."

"Oh, God. Where's your touch dial?"

Jim concentrated past the miasma of confusion and dizziness, realizing the touch dial had slid down again. "One, maybe two."

"That's too low, Jim. You have to bring it up."

"Hurts."

"I know it hurts, but if you don't you're going to injure yourself even more."

With Blair's hands wrapped around his wrists, Jim focused on doing what his guide said. As he eased the dial up, shards of pain ripped through him. His shoulder, his forehead, arms, neck and face where branches had whipped him. He shuddered, but steadfastly turned his touch to a four.

"How is it now?" Blair asked anxiously.

"Hurts like a son of a bitch," Jim muttered.

"I know and I'm sorry, but you need the pain to tell you when to stop." Blair cast about for a secure resting area. "We need to find someplace to hide. We aren't going to be able to outrun them."

"Get me on my feet, Chief."

Blair brought one of Jim's arms over his shoulders then wrapped his own arm around his lover's waist. He struggled to his feet with Jim helping as much as he could. As soon as they were standing, Jim tilted his head to the side.

"They're coming." He lifted his head and searched their surroundings. "Over there." Jim pointed ahead and to the left.

Blair didn't question him. They stumbled in the direction Jim motioned. After five minutes, Blair could see what Jim had found. A small opening in the earth, a cross between a cave and a hole.

"Is there anything in there?" Blair asked quietly.

Jim sniffed and shook his head. "No."

Blair was small enough to slip easily through the opening, but Jim had to do a bit of maneuvering. A haze of sweat covered Jim's brow and his stomach lurched with nausea by the time he dropped down beside Blair in the near blackness. Blair's arm came around him and pulled him close. Grateful, Jim rested his pounding head against Blair's chest. He focused his hearing to determine how near their pursuers were. Although he still wasn't certain of distances with his enhanced senses, Blair's heartbeat gave him a measuring stick.

"They're a couple of hundred yards away but they aren't moving." Jim listened closely. "They're arguing, trying to figure out where we went." A smile touched his lips. "They're also worried that their boss is going to have their heads for losing us."

Blair tipped his head so he was touching Jim's crown. "I'm so sorry I got you into this, Jim," he whispered.

Jim stiffened. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine for leading Garbelli here." He swore under his breath. "I thought there was something off with him, but I ignored my instincts."

Blair's arms tightened around him. "Hey, if you hadn't come looking for me, we wouldn't have met."

"Maybe that would've been for the best. This way you could die," Jim said bitterly.

"No," Blair said quietly but with fierce intensity. "No matter what happens, I'll never regret meeting you." He kissed Jim's short hair. "And loving you."

Jim's chest tightened and his throat constricted. He raised his head and kissed Blair chastely. "I love you, too, Blair."

They remained sitting on the cool damp earth as Jim monitored the goons' search for them. But his head wound and loss of blood were playing havoc with his control despite Blair's proximity. Jim suspected he had a concussion and combined with the blood loss, he would be losing his hold on consciousness soon.

As Jim began to fade, he heard the two thugs swearing. They were close, too damned close. Jim tried to shake the muzziness from his head but only succeeding in sending the universe into a spin. Nausea gripped him and he turned away to vomit. A soothing hand on his back and a melodious voice kept him from passing out.

"Come out of there. Now!"

Jim nearly groaned at the command. He'd given away their hiding place. Blair's fingers curled around his biceps.

"What do we do?" Blair asked hoarsely.

"Come out now or we start shooting!" one of the men hollered.

Jim glanced around at the small shelter and realized if they started firing at the opening, he and Blair were dead. They had no choice. "We go out."

Although he knew Blair was frightened, the younger man didn't hesitate to help Jim struggle out of the cave. Moments later, they were standing in front of the two thugs. The one Jim had head-butted had dried blood beneath his nose and on his chin. The sentinel felt a measure of satisfaction that was lost when the thug gave Jim a shove that sent him sprawling.

"Hey," Blair shouted angrily, hurrying to Jim's side.

"You want us to kill him right here?" the goon asked, a grotesque smile on his reptilian face.

"Help me up, Chief," Jim said, reaching for Blair's arm.

Blair closed his mouth and pulled Jim to his feet.

"Get moving," the bloody-nose man ordered.

As they were pushed through the brush, Jim fought to stay on his feet, leaving little energy to mount an offense against their two captors. He knew there'd be very little chance of survival if Garbelli got Blair and Jim where he wanted them.

"Easy, Jim," Blair said sentinel-soft. "I don't plan on letting Garbelli kill us like he killed my mom."

Jim glanced at Blair's determined face. He knew the younger man was strong, but he hadn't realized how strong. Blair's resolve strengthened Jim and he pushed back his weakness and concentrated on survival.

Too soon they arrived at the road and the dark sedan where Garbelli waited. "It's about damned time. Put them in the trunk. I don't want them dirtying my car."

Jim and Blair exchanged looks. It was either now or never.

As one of the thugs opened the trunk, Blair shoved himself against the one aiming a gun at them. The gun went off, the shot wild. Jim forced his attention away from Blair, praying the young man could hold his own, and put all his remaining strength into attacking the other goon. They fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs, and darkness hedged Jim's vision as his injuries screamed in agony. Gritting his teeth, Jim threw a punch at his opponent and caught him in the jaw. Jim's hand and arm tingled from the contact, but the goon only shook his head like a wet puppy. Then Jim felt the shock of a knee to his groin and he rolled away, knowing he didn't have a prayer.

"This is the U.S. Marshals. Throw down your weapons. You're surrounded."

The disembodied voice surprised Jim and he rolled onto his back to see a helicopter hovering above them. Suddenly cars screeched in, forming a half circle around them. Suited men with guns jumped out of the vehicles, weapons raised and aimed at Garbelli and his two henchmen. Gunshots broke out and Jim frantically turned his head, searching for Blair. He spotted his lover behind one of the marshal's cars and Blair's wide eyes were on Jim. Blair tried to dash toward him, but the marshal caught his shirt and jerked him back to safety. Jim breathed a sigh of relief.

As suddenly as it had started, the shooting stopped.

Blair raced to him and dropped to his knees. "Jim, are you okay?"

Jim focused on the face above him, at the blood at the corner of his lover's lips and the swelling already on his cheekbone. "You're hurt."

Blair grinned crookedly. "You oughta see the other guy." He laid a hand on Jim's chest. "The cavalry made it."

Jim nodded and passed out.

_________________________________

Consciousness returned without the benefit of a gradual wake-up. One moment he was unaware, the next he opened his eyes to bright lights.

"Turn out the lights," a familiar voice said quickly. A moment later, Jim felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Jim, it's okay to open your eyes now. The lights are off."

Jim opened his eyes only a slit at first, then blinked. He spotted Blair leaning over him and his senses focused on his lover and guide. "You okay?" he asked huskily.

Blair smiled. "I'm not the one in the hospital bed."

Jim frowned and turned his head to see he was indeed in a hospital. The scents confirmed it and he wrinkled his nose. It appeared he was in a regular room rather than an emergency room cubicle. "How long?"

"Nearly twenty-four hours."

"Shit."

"You had me a little worried."

"Sorry, Chief."

Blair clasped Jim's hand, the one without the IV needle in it. "Don't be. You're alive and the doctor said you should be as good as new in a few weeks."

Jim tried to sort out the details leading up to waking here. "What about Garbelli?"

Blair sobered. "Dead. His two bodyguards were hurt but they'll live. I guess he chose to shoot it out rather than go back to prison."

Jim nodded, not upset in the least at the man's death. Garbelli would've killed Blair without a hint of remorse.

"Can I ask him a few questions?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

Jim turned his head to see a man wearing a suit that screamed Fed. "Who're you?"

"Agent Wilcox. I'm the one you spoke to yesterday after Garbelli took Blair," the fifty-ish man said.

Jim faintly recalled making a phone call before chasing after Blair. "You're the U.S. Marshal assigned to Blair's case?"

Wilcox nodded. "That's right. I've been Blair's contact since the day he became Jacob Sanborn."

"You did a lousy job of protecting him," Jim growled.

Wilcox scowled. "If it wasn't for you using some less than legal means to find Mr. Sandburg, he wouldn't have needed protection."

"I shouldn't have been able to find him in the first place," Jim fired back.

Blair held up his hands. "Whoa, both of you. It's nobody's fault. It happened. It's over. And Garbelli isn't a threat anymore."

Wilcox's relinquished his glare and nodded curtly. "Blair, you do realize you can go back to your old identity now."

Blair blinked. Obviously it hadn't occurred to him. "You mean I can go back to Cascade and get my masters in anthropology?"

"If that's what you'd like. But I have to tell you, you're a fine veterinarian and established a good life here."

Jim's spirits, which had risen at the possibility of Blair going back to Cascade with him, plummeted once more. Although he hated to admit it, Wilcox was right. Blair was a damned good veterinarian. He had a special touch with both the animals and their owners. It would be a damned shame for him to turn his back on that gift.

"I-I'm not sure," Blair stuttered, indecision making him look even younger.

"Nothing has to be decided at this moment. Your identity as Dr. Sanborn hasn't been compromised," Wilcox said. "If you choose to stay here and continue your practice, there's no reason for anyone to know your real name."

"Except that's not who he is," Jim said softly. He turned his gaze to Blair. "You're Naomi Sandburg's son."

Wilcox shrugged. "It's Blair's decision. He'll remain under the Marshal's office for another year, until he gets established in whatever life he chooses. At that point, he'll be on his own." The agent glanced down at Jim. "As much as I dislike lone wolves, if you hadn't gone after Blair like you did, Garbelli would've killed him. Thank you."

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Blair," Jim said.

Wilcox looked from Jim to Blair and back to Jim. A slight smile touched his thin lips. "He's lucky to have you, Mr. Ellison." And with that, Wilcox exited the hospital room, leaving Jim and Blair alone.

For a moment, awkwardness came between them. Then Blair sat down on the edge of Jim's bed.

"He's right you know," Blair said.

"About what?" Jim asked.

"He said I was lucky to have you." Blair wrapped both his hands around Jim's.

Jim's face heated with embarrassment. "Personally, I think he has it backwards."

Blair looked like he wanted to argue, but changed his mind. Instead, uncertainty clouded his expression. "I'm not sure what I should do. For seven years, I've had to live in the shadow of the protection program. Now, it's like I've been given a second chance at life."

"You are a good veterinarian," Jim said.

Blair nodded slowly. "I enjoy working with the animals and being able to ease their pain. But my first love was anthropology. I still miss it. But I'm thirty years old now. What would it be like going back to school?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. The only thing I'm certain about right now is I don't want to lose you."

Moisture filled Jim's eyes at Blair's matter-of-fact statement. He wished he could draw his lover into his arms and hold him, but he was too sore. Instead, he said tenderly, "Ditto, Chief. Maybe you should just continue being Dr. Sanborn for a little while. I'm sure the answer will come to you."

"What do you want me to do?" Blair asked bluntly.

Jim considered lying, but he had to be honest. "I'd like you to come back to Cascade with me. But I know you've made a life for yourself here. You're going to have to make your own decision."

Blair's troubled expression filled Jim with an ache he couldn't identify. Jim raised a hand and cupped Blair's cheek. "It'll be okay, Blair. No matter what, we'll figure something out. Together."

Blair turned his face and kissed the center of Jim's palm. His eyes sparkled with love and gratitude. "Thank you."

_________________________________

Jim finished staining the table he'd started sanding two weeks ago. His run-in with Garbelli had set him back, but he finally managed to complete the project. The table was now a thing of beauty, smooth and glistening with the last coat of stain. Jim wondered what Blair planned to do with it.

Jim sat down in a patio chair and finished the bottle of water sitting beside it. The sun was warm and only a few puffy clouds floated by. A perfect day yet Jim couldn't truly enjoy it. Ever since he'd gotten out of the hospital, Blair had put an invisible wall between them. Oh, they slept cuddled together at night but shared nothing more than some kisses. At first, Jim was too sore to do anything but sleep, but now his body was healed and reminding him of the one and only time he and Blair had made love. In fact, sleeping together had become a practice in self-control.

Jim sighed and tipped his head back. Closing his eyes, he searched for Blair in the clinic. His lover's low soothing voice told Jim he was working with a four-legged patient. He allowed Blair's timbre to draw him into a light sleep.

Some time later, he sensed someone's presence and awakened instantly. He shaded his eyes against the sun to see Blair standing beside him and he couldn't help but smile. Blair's hair was tied back and he wore his white doctor's jacket with a stethoscope around his neck. In fact, he looked much like he did when Jim first met him three long weeks ago.

Jim reached out and snagged Blair's hand. "Are you done for the day?"

Blair shook his head. "One more appointment at three. I had some time so I thought I'd see what you were up to."

Jim motioned toward the table. "I finished it."

Blair studied it a moment. "It's beautiful, Jim."

"It reminds me of you. Beautiful, but strong and sturdy, too."

Blair sat down on the chair next to Jim without releasing his hand. "That's funny. I was thinking it reminded me of you." Blair's smile seemed forced.

"What's wrong, Chief?"

"I've made my decision," he said softly.

Jim's heart jumped into his throat. It didn't sound like he was going to like this. He dropped his gaze to their joined hands, where his thumb caressed Blair's knuckles. "What is it?"

"I like making a difference and I'm doing that here," Blair began slowly.

Jim's stomach clenched. He couldn't deny that.

Suddenly the back door burst open and Tara Finch came running onto the patio. "Dr. Blair, you gotta come! Lady was hit by a car."

Blair jumped to his feet. "Where is she?"

"Mom's got her inside."

Blair glanced at Jim apologetically, but grabbed Tara's hand and the two of them hustled through the door. Jim rose more slowly, wondering if he might be needed. Abby had her baby two days ago so was out for the next six weeks, leaving Blair to handle everything alone.

He found Blair, Lisa, Tara, and the injured cat in the exam room. Blair glanced up at Jim and relief spilled across his face. "Lisa, take Tara into the waiting room. Jim, I need you."

Lisa glanced at Jim as she pulled her daughter out of the room. He suspected she knew about him and Blair, and saw him as a thief who'd stolen Blair from her.

"Put on some gloves. I have to go in immediately," Blair said.

Jim quickly set all other thoughts aside and concentrated on helping Blair save the animal. Jim did as Blair said and the emergency surgery went smoothly with the vet repairing some internal bleeding and setting the cat's broken leg.

Blair breathed a sigh of relief as he removed his bloody gloves and tossed them in a nearby trash receptacle. Jim did the same, glad he'd dialed down his sense of smell.

"Thanks, Jim. I couldn't have saved her without your help," Blair said earnestly.

"If you wouldn't have been here, Tara would've lost her pet." Jim suspected Blair had decided to stay and although he wasn't exactly happy about his decision, he owed Blair his support and encouragement.

Blair eyed Jim for a long moment, his eyes unrevealing of his thoughts. The sentinel forced a smile, knowing he was losing his lover.

The door was swung open after a soft knock and Lisa stuck her head in. "How is she?"

Blair walked over to the woman and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Lady had internal injuries and a broken leg. I'm going to keep her here for a couple of days just to make sure she's healing well. But she should be fine with some tender loving care."

Lisa threw her arms around Blair and hugged him. "Thank you, Blair."

Jim fought the jealousy that knotted his gut. If Blair wanted to stay here to continue his practice and get back together with Lisa, Jim loved him enough to let him go. But, God, it hurt.

"Is it okay if I bring Tara in?" Lisa asked.

Blair nodded. "Just prepare her so she knows Lady will be sleeping."

"All right." She glanced at Jim and sincere gratitude shown in her eyes and smile. "Thank you, too, Mr. Ellison."

"I only did what Blair told me. He's the reason Lady's got the rest of her eight lives to live," Jim said, his own smile brittle.

Lisa returned to the waiting area to get her daughter.

"I'm going to clean up," Jim said, not meeting Blair's gaze.

"But--"

Blair was interrupted as Lisa and Tara entered the room. Jim slipped past them, giving them a brief nod, and hurried back to the living quarters. He kept his mind blank as he took a quick shower. The mirror showed only the pale yellow remnants of bruises on his torso and arms. He was almost at a hundred percent. There was nothing left to hold him here.

Feeling bereft, he went into the bedroom he shared with Blair and packed his bag with robotic motions. He'd stay in the spare room tonight and leave in the morning. He hadn't had any problems with his senses since getting out of the hospital and he hoped that he could now handle them without Blair's assistance. Since he couldn't have what he wished for most, he hoped he'd get the second most important thing he wanted--to be a cop again.

Jim was seated in the living room with the TV on some sports program when Blair finally returned.

"How's Lady?" Jim asked, forcing normality into his voice.

Blair grinned. "Her vital signs have stabilized and I made a bed for her in one of the kennels. I'll check on her in a few hours but I think the sedative will keep her out the rest of the night."

"That's good. Did Lisa and Tara leave?"

Blair's face turned thoughtful. "About fifteen minutes ago."

"I suppose Lisa is glad her ex-husband is in jail."

"I guess." Blair shrugged. "I didn't ask and she didn't say anything. I'm going to take a shower. What would you like for dinner?"

"Whatever."

Blair frowned, obviously hearing something in Jim's voice. "I really wanted to go out to eat tonight, kind of a celebration, but I don't want to leave Lady alone."

Jim's fingers curled into his palms. Celebration? Is Blair that happy to be staying here? He knows I have to go back to Cascade.

"I'll put something together while you're showering," Jim said.

Blair eyed him. "Are you all right?"

Jim shrugged, forcing nonchalance into the gesture. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem, I don't know, kind of down."

What do you expect? I'm losing you and there's nothing I can do.

"Just tired," Jim said.

Concern etched itself in Blair's brow. "You probably overdid it today, with working on the table then helping me with Lady. I really don't know what I would've done without you, Jim."

You'll find out after tomorrow.

"Hey, that's what friends are for." Jim gave him a gentle push. "Go on and shower. My sensitive nose would appreciate it."

Blair ducked his head. "Sorry. I forgot." He hustled down the hallway into the bathroom.

While Jim threw together a meal of soup and sandwiches, he listened to Blair in the shower. He ached to join him, to make love under the warm spray of the water, but it wasn't to be. He should've known.

Life never deals a straight hand and people never stick around. At least not for me.

As Jim was setting the sandwiches on the table, the bathroom door opened and Blair went into his bedroom. He listened to him open dresser drawers and pull out clean clothes, and he turned up his hearing to savor the sensual sound of cloth across skin. Suddenly, Blair's heartbeat sped up as did his breathing.

"Jim," Blair hollered.

Certain Garbelli had come back from the grave, Jim raced down to the bedroom. He found Blair staring at the empty drawer he'd given Jim to put his clothes.

"What's wrong?" Jim demanded, his own pulse thundering.

"Where's your stuff?"

Jim clamped his lips together and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "In the other bedroom."

"Why?" Blair's plaintive question made Jim close his eyes to fight for control.

"I'll going back to Cascade tomorrow morning," Jim finally said in an amazingly steady voice.

"Did something happen?"

Yes, you made your choice, forcing me to make mine.

"It's time I got back and figured out what I want to do with my life."

"What about..." Blair's eyes glimmered.

"What about what?"

"Us."

"There isn't any us. Not anymore," Jim said angrily, illogically wanting to hurt Blair like he was hurting.

"I don't understand. I thought you loved me." Blair's imploring gaze nearly undid Jim's control.

"I do, but obviously you don't feel the same way."

"How can you say that?" Blair demanded, his voice husky.

"Because you decided to stay here."

Blair's mouth dropped open. "What the hell are you talking about, Jim?"

Jim felt a tinge of doubt. "Before they brought over their cat, you told me you like to make a difference and you were doing that here."

"Yeah, so?"

"So you're staying here as the town veterinarian." Jim's frustrations spilled out. "And you can go back to Lisa and her readymade family now that her ex-husband is out of the way. Which means there's no reason for me to stay."

Blair snapped his mouth shut and stalked up to the taller man. His eyes sparked with anger. "Where the hell did you get that? First off, I do make a difference here but when the new veterinarian gets here, she'll be the one to make a difference. Secondly, I love you, James Ellison, not Lisa. And thirdly, I had the dream again last week."

Jim blinked. "The one where you're on the edge of the cliff?"

Blair nodded. "I took that step and I didn't fall. You caught me."

Jim's mind reeled as he tried to grasp the implications. He'd been so certain Blair was going to dump him that he was going to dump the younger man first. But he'd made his choice and was making plans to return to Cascade...to be with him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jim asked, his voice shaking.

"I was going to before we were interrupted. The new vet is supposed to arrive next week. Then I'm free to go with you to Cascade." Blair paused. "That is, if you still want me."

Jim couldn't stop the goofy grin from spreading across his face. "That depends."

Blair crossed his arms and cocked his head. "On what?"

"On whether you can forgive me for being such a jerk."

A slow smile claimed Blair's lips. "Even if you were a jerk, you're my jerk." Blair stepped into Jim's personal space and their bodies touched. "Is that clear?"

Jim placed his hands on Blair's hips. "Crystal, Chief." He leaned forward and kissed his lover. Their tongues met and twined, and Jim groaned deep in his throat. Keeping his mouth pressed to Blair's, he guided the younger man backwards to the bed. Still not relinquishing their kiss, Blair sat on the bed and pulled Jim down on top of him as he lay down.

"I love you, Blair," Jim whispered when they separated for air.

"I love you, too," Blair returned, then smiled impishly. "Jerk."

Laughing, Jim claimed Blair's mouth once more, only this time it was a long time before either one spoke again.

EPILOGUE

Jim parked in front of the vet clinic and sat there for a moment, thinking about the changes that had occurred over the past six months. After the new vet had arrived in Calumet, Blair was given a send-off by the townsfolk that showed Jim just how much his lover was liked and respected. Lisa Finch had given both Jim and Blair a sisterly kiss on the cheek and wished them luck.

Blair moved into the loft with Jim and had contacted a classmate from veterinary school who had a clinic in Cascade. Blair worked part time there now, in between continuing to work on his master's degree and helping Jim at the police department. Often Jim worried that his lover was overdoing it, but Blair seemed happy and content. Just thinking about Blair made him smile and he got out of the truck and entered the animal hospital.

Linda, the receptionist, greeted him with a friendly wave. "Hey, Jim."

"Hi, Linda. How's it going?"

"Can't complain. I hear you and Blair have a hot date tonight." She waggled her eyebrows.

Jim's face warmed. Even though he and Blair were out to everyone at the clinic, as well as Jim's boss Captain Banks, it still flustered him. "It's our six month anniversary."

"Is that all? You two are so in tune with each other, it seems like you've been together for years."

"Not yet," Blair said, coming out of the back. He smiled at his lover. "I thought you'd be late with that new case Simon gave you."

"I brought the file home. I'm hoping you see something nobody else did."

"Sure, no problem. Now that I'm on semester break, I can go in with you when I'm not working here." Blair waved at Linda. "See you day after tomorrow."

"Have fun tonight," she said with a wink.

Blair rolled his eyes as he went to Jim's side. Jim put his arm around his lover's shoulders. Even though they'd seen each other at lunch four hours ago, it seemed like ages. Jim guided Blair out of the clinic.

Blair jumped into the passenger side of Jim's old pick-up while Jim went around to the driver's seat. Glancing around, Jim didn't spot anybody in the vicinity and leaned across the seat to give Blair a kiss.

"Public display of affection, Jim?" Blair teased as Jim started the truck.

"Living dangerously, Chief," Jim replied with a wink.

Blair laughed. "This coming from a cop?"

Jim studied Blair, never tiring of the mercurial changes in his beautiful face and eyes. "Without you, I'd either be a third rate private eye or in a padded room in Conover."

Blair clasped Jim's hand. "Without you, I'd still be hiding from Garbelli and myself."

Although Jim didn't believe in Fate, he couldn't help but think something or someone had had a hand in his and Blair's meeting. Maybe it had been Naomi Sandburg who'd guided them on their converging paths. Or maybe Blair was right when he simply called it karma.

"What do you say we skip dinner and go straight to the dessert?" Jim asked in a low, husky voice.

Blair lifted his eyebrows as he pictured the one and only piece of furniture that he'd brought with him to Cascade and which now inhabited their loft apartment. "Think the table is strong enough?"

Jim grinned. "Solid oak."

"Smooth enough?"

"Sanded it myself."

Blair squirmed uncomfortably on the seat. "Home, James, and make it fast."

Jim laughed and followed his guide's command.

The end.

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Acknowledgements: My thanks to Annie and Mags for betaing this monster; also I want to thank Patt for her beautiful art; and last, but definitely not least, my extreme gratitude to Janet, for her support of Moonridge through her bid on my story and because without it, All Critters Great and Small would've never been completed.