Busting Loose by Kat Murray Page A

stood and waved a little, weaving her way through the slightly heavier lunch crowd and back to the bar.
    Jo glared at her and set a sack on the bar top. “Do I have to apologize to my customers?”
    â€œOf course not. I was just introducing myself to some important men of the community.” Bea slapped down some money and pushed it at her friend. “Honestly, Jo. Why does everyone just assume I’m up to something?”
    â€œBecause you usually are!” Jo called at her as she walked out the door.
    â€œYeah,” she said quietly, pushing her sunglasses on and walking down the sidewalk toward the clinic. The bag swung easily from her fingertips, and there was a lightness in her step she hadn’t felt on the walk to lunch.
    And it felt good, knowing she was doing something for the community and not just herself for once. Maybe she should try it more often.

Chapter Six
    M organ opened his office and nearly tripped over the boxes piled high in front of his door. What the . . . “Bea?”
    â€œJust a minute!” she called, her lyrical voice echoing in the still-empty clinic. “I’ve almost got . . . yes!” She let out a cry of triumph so amusing, Morgan’s throbbing shin receded in his mind, and he smiled at the sound. “I did it!”
    â€œDid what?” He leaned against the wall outside his office, smiling at the fact they were having a conversation ten feet apart, but couldn’t see each other.
    â€œI figured out this stupid appointment program, and got all the month’s appointments in there. Did you know Jaycee never even tried to get it to work? That’s why it was empty. She just had the physical appointment book.”
    â€œNo, I did not. I figured if the schedule worked, then it didn’t matter how.” Morgan nudged a box, but it didn’t budge. What the hell was in these things?
    â€œIt wasn’t easy starting from scratch, but I’ve got it all transferred over. I’ve even got it set up to send e-mail reminders of appointments to the customers who gave us e-mail addresses. I am woman, hear me roar.”
    Impressive. He never could have done it, and clearly Jacyee either hadn’t been able to, or hadn’t even tried.
    He heard the sound of the desk chair wheels slide over the tile, heard Milton’s nails click in time with his owner’s own heels, then prepped his body for the inevitable.
    She rounded the corner, looking sexy as sin, as usual. In a snug red tank and a denim pencil skirt, she was completely appropriate for the casual work environment he strove for.
    Which did nothing to cool the lust firing through his system every time he caught sight of her. Even the fact that her pet-slash-chaperone was staring at him with those unnerving bug eyes did nothing to negate the fact that he would rather open his office door, pull her in, lock the dog out, and pull up that skirt so—
    â€œMorgan?”
    He blinked. “Yeah?”
    â€œI said, did you know you were averaging an eleven percent no-call, no-show appointment percentage? That’s horrible. Hopefully the e-mail reminders will change that for the better.” She stepped up to him, smoothing a cool hand over his forehead. “You’re flushed. Are you feeling okay?”
    â€œYeah.” It came out a little strangled, so he cleared his throat and repeated, “Yeah. Sorry. It’s a little hot in the back.”
    As was becoming her habit, she reached up for his glasses, then polished them on the corner of her tank. The movement showed off a good hint of skin above the waistband of her skirt, and he swallowed the excess saliva building up.
    â€œSo, what’s the problem that has you hollering at me?”
    He grinned and took his glasses back. “Did you just say ‘hollering’?”
    â€œI did,” she said more primly. “I like to adapt to the local climate whenever possible.”
    â€œOr you’re