The Oldest Virgin In Oakdale

Cole’s dark brows furrowed. “What is this in reference to?”

“In reference to me.” Like a snowball, Eleanor’s idea got bigger and bigger the more she rolled it around in her mind. “When you didn’t think you could pass chemistry, what did you do? You asked me for help. Do you remember what you said when you passed the calculus midterm?”

Cole shrugged. “Eleanor, it’s been twelve years.”

“I know. And I probably wouldn’t remember it, either, except you made me a promise.” She took a deep breath. “One I hope you can keep.”

Eleanor was too old for the kind of fantasies she’d harbored as a young girl with a terrible crush. And yet she knew that Cole’s reappearance had ignited something inside her once more.

At twenty-eight she’d never even been kissed properly.

She wanted love. She wanted passion. And she didn’t want to wait anymore.

Dear Reader,

There’s no better escape than a fun, heartwarming love story from Silhouette Romance. So this August, be sure to treat yourself to all six books in our sexy, sizzling collection guaranteed to keep you glued to your beach chair.

Dive right into our fantasy-filled A TALE OF THE SEA adventure with Melissa McClone’s In Deep Waters (SR#1608). In the second installment in the series about lost royal siblings from a magical kingdom, Kayla Waterton searches for a sunken ship, and discovers real treasure in the form of dark, seductive, modern-day pirate Captain Ben Mendoza.

Speaking of dark and seductive, Carol Grace’s Falling for the Sheik (SR#1607) features the mesmerizing but demanding Sheik Rahman Harun, who is nursed back to health with TLC from his beautiful American nurse, Amanda Reston. Another royal has a heart-wrenching choice to make in The Princess Has Amnesia! (SR#1606) by award-winning author Patricia Thayer. She survived a jet crash in the mountains, but when the amnesia-stricken princess remembers her true social standing, will she—can she—forget her handsome rescuer…?

Myrna Mackenzie’s Bought by the Billionaire (SR#1610) is a Pygmalian story starring Ethan Bennington, who has only three weeks to transform commoner Maggie Todd into a lady. While Cole Sullivan, the hunky, all-American hero in Wendy Warren’s The Oldest Virgin in Oakdale (SR#1609), is coerced into teaching shy Eleanor Lippert how to seduce any man—himself included.

Then laugh a hundred laughs with Carolyn Greene’s First You Kiss 100 Men… (SR#1611), a hilarious and highly sensual read about a journalist assigned to kiss 100 men. But there’s only one man she wants to kiss.…

Happy reading—and please keep in touch!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

The Oldest Virgin in Oakdale

Wendy Warren

MILLS & BOON

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Books by Wendy Warren

Silhouette Romance

The Oldest Virgin in Oakdale #1609

Silhouette Special Edition

Dakota Bride #1463

Previously written under the name Lauryn Chandler

Silhouette Romance

Mr. Wright #936

Romantics Anonymous #981

Oh, Baby! #1033

Her Very Own Husband #1148

Just Say I Do #1236

The Drifter’s Gift #1268

WENDY WARREN

lives with her husband, Tim, and their dog, Chauncie, near the Pacific Northwest’s beautiful Willamette River, in an area surrounded by giant elms, bookstores with cushy chairs and great theater. Their house was previously owned by a woman named Cinderella, who bequeathed them a gardenful of flowers they try desperately (and occasionally successfully) not to kill, and a pink General Electric oven, circa 1948, that makes the kitchen look like an I Love Lucy rerun.

A two-time recipient of Romance Writers of America’s RITA® Award for Best Traditional Romance, Wendy loves to read and write the kind of books that remind her of the old movies she grew up watching with her mom—stories about decent people looking for the love that can make an ordinary life heroic. When not writing, she likes to take long walks with her dog, settle in for cozy chats with good friends and sneak tofu into her husband’s dinner. She always enjoys hearing from readers, and may be reached at P.O. Box 82131 Portland, OR 97282-0131.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter One

“Ohh, Ralph, you handsome boy. No, don’t kiss me yet. I want to reach right…there…yes! Mmm. Ohh, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

Eleanor crooned softly while her hands worked their magic on dear Ralph. She touched with a confidence bred from pure enjoyment of what she was doing—and lots and lots of practice.

“Talk to me, Ralph. Does that feel wonderful? Hmm? Does it?”

Ralph turned soulful brown eyes to her and gave a low growl that made Eleanor grin. “You’re turning into quite a hedonist.”

Cupping her hands, she gave Ralph a nice percussion thump, then patted him on the back and announced, “Okay, time’s up.” Leaning down, she whispered in his ear, “But we can do it again tomorrow, big guy.”

Waiting for Ralph to rise and stretch, she helped him off the table, then turned to pick up the chart she’d brought with her into the examining room. Pulling a pen from her breast pocket, she started scribbling. Under Diagnosis she wrote “arthritis”; under Treatment she penned “Shiatsu massage.”

A knock on the door heralded the entrance of Eleanor’s assistant, Chloe. “How did Ralph like his massage?”

Rubbing her nose beneath her glasses, Eleanor smiled. “Loved it.” They looked at Ralph, who gazed back sleepily, a huge grin on his bulldog face. “He’s much better today. Mrs. Kaminsky wants him to have cortisone, but I’m going to talk her out of it.”

Chloe nodded, unclipping and then refastening a barrette on her unruly red hair. “Are you still planning to try acupuncture?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Eleanor glanced at Ralph, who gazed back adoringly, his big droopy eyes twin puddles of sheer devotion. “I know it would do the poor baby a world of good.”

The baby in question barked once, as if he were in total agreement.

Chloe laughed. “Come on, lover.” Approaching the bulldog, she slipped a blue nylon lead over his head. “Time to go back to your home away from home. Dr. Lippert has other patients to see.”

Reluctantly Ralph allowed himself to be led to the door.

“Mrs. Kaminsky should be here to pick him up around four,” Eleanor murmured. Swiftly and efficiently she finished Ralph’s chart, closed the folder, and requested, “Let me know when she arrives, will you? I want to speak with her.”

“Sure.” Chloe paused at the door. “Your next appointment is in room two. A boxer cross named Sadie, in to be spayed.”

“Thanks.”

Eleanor crossed to the sink to wash her hands while Chloe lingered in the doorway. She simultaneously raised her brows and lowered her voice. “The puppy’s cute, but check out the dish on the other end of the leash.”

With her hands beneath the running water, Eleanor froze. “Dish?”

Chloe nodded broadly. “Wait till you get your first glimpse of this guy. It’s like…like—” she circled a hand in the air “—finding a filet mignon in a meat case crammed with ground chuck. Definitely not from around here, or my hunk radar would have picked up by now. We are talking six feet of pure masculine perfection.” Her eyes began to glow with missionary zeal. “A match-maker’s dream!”

Oh, no. Eleanor’s stomach muscles clenched in dread. “How do you know he’s single?” she challenged, certain of what would come next unless she derailed Chloe right now. “He could be married with four children.”

“No way.”

“Or engaged.”

“Uh-uh.” The redhead shook her head. “His pheromones scream ‘single!’ Now—” she pointed a finger, pinning her boss with a narrow-eyed stare “—if I were single like some veterinarians in this room, you know what I would do? I would—”

“Yes!” Eleanor turned off the faucet, shaking her hands over the sink. “I know what you would do.” Attempting to rip a paper towel from a mounted dispenser, she yanked too hard and sent a cascade of white sheets billowing forth. “If you were single—like me—you would go into examining room two and flirt with the steak.” Slapping the excess towels away, she tore off one, wiped her hands and tossed the paper in the trash. Then she grabbed her stethoscope and hooked it around her neck. “Fortunately for the reputation of this office, you are neither single nor me.”

Chloe’s offended huff did not persuade her. Without further ado, Eleanor gathered her pens and charts. “It’s almost noon. Why don’t you go to lunch,” she suggested. “Have something calming. Like soup. And Valium.”

Chloe stayed put, propping a fist on her hip. “Fine, make jokes if you want to, but I don’t think your social life is a laughing matter. I’ve worked here almost a year and a half. As far as I can tell, you have not gone on a single date in all that time.”

Battling sudden nausea, Eleanor fiddled with her eyeglasses. “Chloe, we’re in the middle of a workday here. What does this have to—”

“I told my cousin Frank to call you. He said he left four messages. You never returned a call.”

“Oh.” Eleanor had the grace to look chagrined. “Well, I apologize for that. I…it was such a busy…” She snapped her fingers. “That was the week Mrs. Smalley’s ridgeback swallowed a compass, remember?”

Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Have you gone on even one date in the last year?”

Eleanor fought not to wince. She didn’t want to have this conversation. She couldn’t win this conversation.

Moving past her assistant, she placed a hand on the doorknob. Familiar with the adage “the best offense is a good defense,” she hoped the opposite was also true.

Lifting her chin, she spoke firmly. “Chloe, this is a veterinary medical office, not the Hard Rock Café. Our clients expect dignity, focus and professionalism, and that is exactly what they’re going to get.” She jerked open the door. “Now, we have a patient waiting in examining room two. Let’s try to keep our eye on the ball!”

Blatantly unimpressed, Chloe shook her head and stomped to the door. “Come on, Ralph, we know when we’re licked. For now,” she tossed over her shoulder as she led the bulldog to the kennels.

Stepping into the hallway herself, Eleanor closed the door behind her and breathed deeply.

Good grief! She shook her head. This was happening more and more often lately. Chloe, her parents—they were sending out single-man alerts like flares to a lost hiker. Even Mrs. Pierce at the dry cleaner’s had gotten into the act. Last Friday the elderly woman pulled a navy-blue pinstripe suit off the revolving clothes rack and whispered, “See this? Belongs to a lawyer.” Nodding pointedly, she stroked the lapel. “Nice.”

“What’s the matter with everyone lately?” Eleanor muttered. She was twenty-eight, for pity’s sake, hardly ancient for a single woman in the twenty-first century.

Patting the pockets of her lab coat to make sure she had dog treats, Eleanor adjusted her eyeglasses and moved down the hallway. Her rubber-soled shoes squeaked on the linoleum.

Pausing outside examining room two, she smoothed ash-blond hair behind her ears. Okay, so maybe she’d neglected her social life a bit. But she had a career to contend with, and she was a grown-up; grown-ups prioritized. Besides, she was good at her job; no one could deny that. Work was where she felt comfortable. Work gave her a confidence missing from certain other areas of her life. When she aided animals and the people who cared for them, she felt, well, a kind of grace.

Calling forth a genial smile, Eleanor reached for the doorknob and strode purposefully into the examining room, eager to greet her new clients, human and canine. “Good afternoon, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long. I’m Dr. Lippert, and I… I— I’m…”

Behind her wire-rimmed glasses, Eleanor’s eyes opened wide. Her mouth went dry, and so, apparently, did her brain. The words she’d been about to speak blew away. She didn’t have “hunk radar,” not like Chloe, but it didn’t take Doppler to realize that standing before her, next to a steel examining table atop which perched a panting boxer pup, was the single most attractive man she had ever seen.

Black hair, the color of India ink, waved thick and shining around a face that belonged on the cover of a movie star magazine. Brows that were dark as night framed eyes that were as blue as morning glory, and his smile… Eleanor actually felt goose bumps race up her arms. Slow, liquid, his grin flowed like a lazy river, creating a lopsided curve that seemed oddly, deliberately personal.

Good Lord, Chloe wasn’t kidding: This man…that is, her client was…steak.

Glancing to the chart in her hands, she gave herself a mental shake. Her brain felt fuzzy suddenly, like a TV screen filled with snow. “I’m—” Pushing at her glasses, she scanned the patient information sheet quickly. “I’m Dr…. Uh, Sadie… I’ll be neutering Eleanor today.”

Turning, she deposited the paperwork on the countertop. Brushing her perspiring palms on her lab coat, she pulled a pen from her breast pocket, dropped it, bent to pick it up and hit her head on the edge of the counter.

“Ow!”

“Are you all right?”

The rich, masculine voice resonated with concern.

“Oh, yes! Fine.” Eleanor rubbed the top of her head. “Fine, fine.” She nodded briskly, like a drunken Jack-in-the-box. Smile frozen in place, she moved toward her patient.

Avoiding the man’s gaze, Eleanor lifted the bowl of her stethoscope and placed it on the boxer’s square chest. For a moment, and it seemed like a long one, all Eleanor could hear was the thundering of her own heart. It wasn’t only the man’s looks that affected her so. It wasn’t even her own awkwardness where members of the opposite sex were concerned. It was…the man’s aura. There was something mysterious, yet familiar, and—

When she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder, she almost yelped. “Yes?” She looked up, smiling again, though the stretch of her lips felt as genuine as a three-dollar bill.

“Hear anything important?”

This time his voice was honey and rum. And frankly amused. Eleanor swallowed. “No. Not yet.”

His hands came toward her neck. Reflexively Eleanor backed up. Ignoring her surprise, he reached for the ear-pieces of the stethoscope, brought them up—and placed them in her ears, where they belonged.

One handsome brow arched. “Better?”

Eleanor blushed bloodred. His grin deepened. Of all the humiliating…! Furious with herself, furious with him, furious with Chloe, she clamped her lips shut and got down to business. With a rigid efficiency that precluded conversation, she listened to Sadie’s heartbeat, checked the dog’s eyes and ears and examined her coat. She refrained from saying another word, refused even to glance in the man’s direction, until the examination was complete.

Keeping her head down while she made preliminary notations on the dog’s chart, she murmured, “Her health seems good generally. She’s on the thin side, though. What are you feeding her?”

“Big Macs. Fries. Hold the ketchup.”

The pen stilled. “You’re kidding.”

“Why? You think she’d like ketchup?”

Glancing up at last, Eleanor was rewarded with a wink that made the blue eyes sparkle and dance. This time the curve of his full lips was downright roguish. “You know how I feel about ketchup, Teach.”

“I beg your—”

Teach.

Eleanor felt a surge of déjà vu so strong, it made her dizzy.

Teach? Only one person in her life had ever called her that. Only one person on the planet…

Gaping through her glasses, she looked at him, then down at the chart, then back up. It couldn’t be… No, definitely not…

“Colvin?”

The hand that was stroking Sadie stilled immediately. He crossed both arms over his chest and scowled. “No one’s called me Colvin in over twelve years… Eleanor Gertrude.”

Eleanor’s heart thumped like a jackhammer. It was him. Colvin—or rather Cole—Sullivan. Her words rushed out on a breath.

“When did you get back?”

“A couple of days ago.” The grin returned with devilish implication. “Miss me?”

Dumbstruck, Eleanor could only stare. Her heart fluttered. Miss him? It had been twelve years since she’d last set eyes on him. If Cole Sullivan had been in Oakdale at all since their high school graduation, she hadn’t known about it. She hadn’t spoken to him, hadn’t heard from him.

Not that that was surprising. They hadn’t parted on the most congenial of terms. She should have recognized him by the small crescent-shaped scar on his chin—she’d put it there.

He caught her looking at it and touched two fingers to the twelve-year-old brand. “Still hurts, you know.”

Eleanor blurted her first thought. “You deserved it.”

Cole tilted his head back and laughed—rich, full-bodied laughter that held not a single grudge. “You’re right, Teach. I did.”

Feelings Eleanor couldn’t begin to identify—and didn’t think she wanted to—swelled inside her. Quickly she reached for Sadie’s chart.

She cleared her throat. “So. You brought Sadie in to be spayed. I don’t see any record of shots.”

Cole’s gaze narrowed. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the examining table and studied Eleanor leisurely, in no rush to answer, as if he were deciding whether to accept the abrupt change from the personal to the professional. “I found the dog,” he said finally, keeping his gaze on Eleanor, “a few days ago on the drive up here. She was taking a stroll along the I-5 Highway. No collar. And no sense of direction.”

Eleanor reached out to touch a grouping of small scars on the boxer’s left flank. “Abandoned, probably,” she murmured.

“And abused by the look of things.” Cole’s tone hardened, but his hand moved absently, gently over the dog’s spine. “I found you in the phone book, by the way.” He arched a brow. “Eleanor Lippert, D.V.M. Is this your own practice?”

“Yes.”

“Very impressive,” he commended, nodding slowly, his voice low and tinged with approval.

A frisson of pleasure skittered up Eleanor’s spine. She squashed it ruthlessly.

“I can spay Sadie this afternoon,” she said, forcing herself to stick to the business at hand. “We use a general anaesthetic. Has she eaten?”

“Not since last night. Your receptionist gave me the drill when I called.”

Eleanor nodded and penned the information on the chart, noting as she did that Cole had listed Los Angeles as his permanent place of residence. Was that where he’d been all these years?

“So, is this going to hurt?”

She glanced up. The hand smoothing Sadie’s back had stilled on top of her sturdy head and the dog had lifted her muzzle as if to fit herself into Cole’s palm.

“No,” she said, smiling when he looked relieved. “Spaying is a very safe procedure. Not as simple as neutering a male, of course, but—”

Cole’s eyes widened, and Eleanor felt her smile falter.

“What I mean is, castration is very straightforward.” He winced.

Heat suffused her neck and cheeks. She’d explained this unhesitantly dozens of times in spay and neuter clinics.

Raising her chin, she stated with forced calm, “We’ll keep Sadie overnight—”

“Is that what you do with the easily neutered males?”

Closing Sadie’s chart with a snap, Eleanor tucked it under her arm. As matter-of-factly as she could, she replied, “Males don’t need to be kept overnight.”

“Hmm. I never did know as much about biology as you—” his voiced rolled toward her like a slow rippling tide “—but I’d say that all depends on the male, Teach. It all depends on the male.”

The bottom half of her glasses fogged. Wrapping the examination up while she still had a modicum of composure, she said, “You can pick Sadie up tomorrow.”

“What time do you close?”

“Six. So if you can’t get here earlier, we can keep her until closing. She’ll be very comfortable.”

“Are you married, Eleanor?”

“I— Am I— Uh, no. Mmm. No.”

“Living with anyone?”

Returning her pen to her breast pocket—three jabs before she got it in—she raised her brows, a study in forced nonchalance. “Why? What do you mean?”

“Just a friendly question. If we grab dinner, catch up on old times, is there anyone whose feathers could get ruffled?”

Slowly Eleanor shook her head.

“Good.” He nodded. “I’ll pick you and Sadie up tomorrow evening.”

“Well, I…”

“Be good for the doctor, Sadie.” Reaching over, he gave the big puppy a solid pat.

Moving past Eleanor, Cole grasped the doorknob, then turned. “I realize you’ll be working, but try not to be late.” He gave her a long, steady look. “I may be ‘straightforward,’ but I’m a devil when I’m hungry.”

Chapter Two

Eleanor, who in a dozen years of driving had never had a ticket, managed to run a stop sign on her way home from work.

Inside her apartment she tossed keys, coat and purse onto a bar stool, deposited a paper sack of take-out Chinese on the kitchen counter and atypically ignored her cat, Gus, who yowled in complaint while she made a beeline for the hall closet.

Sliding open the closet door, Eleanor stood on her toes to extract hats, mittens and other winter gear, sending items sailing to the floor until her hands closed on a box shoved all the way to the back of the shelf. Lugging the heavy carton to the floor, she rummaged through the contents until she found what she was looking for.

Oakdale High 1990. Her senior yearbook.

The broad flat album smelled musty. Sitting on her heels, Eleanor wiped a finger across dusty gold lettering while her heart beat with anticipation. She opened the stiff maroon cover, turning pages without pause until she came to the senior high students whose last names began with S, then scanned the page until she reached “Sullivan, Colvin Orson.”

From a black-and-white photo the size of a tea bag, Cole stared up at her, looking exactly the way she remembered.

“Cole,” she murmured, letting the name linger in her mouth again after all these years. She shook her head. No wonder she hadn’t recognized him.

Long necked with a lean jaw and defined cheekbones, in high school Cole had worn his hair in a military-style buzz cut that gave no clue to the ebony Samson’s locks he sported now. He’d been quite thin then, too, with a teenager’s sinewy vitality, not the blatant power and muscular grace of the body he had grown into.