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ponies, of course. “This place has everything,” she added grimly, “Including one giant Cajun turkey.”
    “Gobble-gobble,” a deep voice said behind her.
    She turned slowly, gazed up into cool blue eyes, and smiled. The man was as provocative as his home. “Well, if it isn’t Dr. Dolittle.”
    If she sniffed one more time, he’d throw her out of his house on her designer-clad fanny.
    She did it so delicately, barely making a sound. In fact, maybe the sniffing was his imagination. It was just the way she glided around beside him through the large, austere rooms, still wearing her sunglasses and scarf as if she were afraid of contamination. She kept her hands clasped behind her back.
    She was conducting an inspection, and she made it obvious that his house wasn’t going to pass.
    “Nice possibilities,” she said about the tall ceilings with their ornate molding.
    “Great potential,” she said of the hardwood floors.
    “Modern plumbing,” she noted of the kitchen. “Fascinating.”
    That was the last straw. He turned toward her and uttered one earthy, concise word.
    “I wouldn’t describe it as that bad,” she countered.
    “If you don’t like it, get out.”
    “There are cables and camera equipment all over the place. Every room but the kitchen is sprayed with fake cobwebs and dust. The furniture looks like rejects from a Victorian nightmare. Is the upstairs this way too?”
    “The furniture was brought in for the movie. Upstairs is my domain. No one’s allowed up there. Especially you.”
    She sighed elaborately. “And thus, where is my room?”
    “Behind the kitchen.”
    While she stared at his back in disbelief, he led her through the large, cheerful, amazingly clean kitchen to a tiny room with one window.
    Caroline did a slow turn, taking in a twin-size metal bedstead and an ancient dresser.
    “Is this the cook’s room? Is she on vacation, or did she break parole and go back to the comforts of prison?”
    “There’s no cook.”
    Her gaze stopped on the floor fan that sat atop the dresser. “There’s no air-conditioning!”
    “Come back in five years. By then I might have a central unit installed.”
    “There’s no phone!”
    “Use the one in Frank’s trailer.” His blue gaze flickered down her body, pausing blatantly at her breasts and hips. “Since you and Frank are so close.”
    Caroline had been considering setting fire to the drab little room in protest. Now she considered setting fire to Dr. Belue. His insulting once-over made her skin feel hot enough to scorch his throat when she strangled him. She pivoted on one heel and faced him, thenwhipped her glasses off and stared straight into his eyes. “Are you insinuating something?”
    Blue smiled wickedly. The madder he made this Beverly Hills bunny, the sooner she’d leave. “You look like the type who wouldn’t have any scruples about married men.”
    Her eyes narrowed. He was only trying to provoke her. He wanted to get rid of her. She had to keep remembering that. Caroline scanned his naked chest and all the territory below it with nonchalant approval. “Ah, yes, married men are what I crave. Too bad you’re single. Otherwise I’d seduce you.”
    “You’d walk bowlegged for a week afterward.”
    Caroline clasped a hand to her heart dramatically. She ignored the sensual loosening his words produced in her lower body. He was a volcano—unpredictable but fascinating. “How lovely. There must be dozens of bowlegged women around here.”
    “Hundreds.”
    “Hundreds of women with bad taste. Amazing.”
    “Hundreds of women with dazed smiles.”
    Caroline tsk-tsked, shaking her head. “You’ll have to forgive me for ignoring an opportunity to join their ranks. Nothing personal. It’s just that I prefer not to mate outside my species.”
    “And you wouldn’t want to make Frank jealous.”
    Her grim amusement faded and her voice became somber. “Frank respects you. How can you accuse him of cheating on his