Paws for a Kiss (Canine Cupids Book 1)

  Paws for a Kiss

  A Canine Cupids Novel

  Stephanie Rowe

  SBD Press

  Contents

  Copyright

  Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Sneak Peek: Pawfectly in Love

  Sneak Peek: A Real Cowboy for Christmas

  Sneak Peek: A Real Cowboy Never Says No

  Sneak Peek: Unexpectedly Mine

  Books By Stephanie Rowe

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Paws for a Kiss (a Canine Cupids novel).

  Copyright © 2017 by Stephanie Rowe.

  ISBN 10: 1-940968-58-5

  ISBN 13: 978-1-940968-58-2

  Cover design © 2017 by Kelli Ann Morgan, Inspire Creative Services.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, disseminated, or transmitted in any form or by any means or for any use, including recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author and/or the artist. The only exception is short excerpts or the cover image in reviews. Please be a leading force in respecting the right of authors and artists to protect their work. This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel or on the cover are either products of the author’s or artist's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or the artist. There are excerpts from other books by the author in the back of the book.

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  Chapter 1

  Bev Ryan peered over the edge of the bar, surveying the partygoers in the tent from her crouched position. What had she been thinking? There was no way she could barge in on Mack Spenser's party. Not Mack Spenser, with his gorgeous date hanging on his every word, his custom-made suit hanging so perfectly over his broad shoulders and narrow hips.

  She was not going out there.

  So what if a man like Mack would never take an appointment from her. So what if this was the only way she'd ever get a chance to talk to him. So what if her future depended on his answer to her plea. There was way too much money out in that crowd, far too many attractive people. Too much sophistication.

  Everyone out there would know she didn't belong, and she'd had enough of that to last pretty much the rest of her life. So, yeah. Time to abdicate.

  "For heaven's sake, get up." Bev's best friend, Josie Harper, set a case of champagne on top of the bar, perilously close to Bev's nose. "You've been down there for ten minutes looking for the limes. I'm not buying it." She held up a lime. "Especially since they're all up here."

  "Oh, you found them. Great." Bev slowly worked her way to her feet, dusting off her knees. "You know, I think I left my headlights on. I'm going to go check."

  She hadn't even started to turn around to make her getaway when Josie clamped down on her wrist. "You're being a wimp."

  "So?"

  "So, you made me promise I wouldn't let you wimp out."

  "I give you permission to break your promise." Bev tried to twist her arm free, but Josie had an iron grip. "Have you been using those hand exercisers or something?"

  "It's from opening beer bottles. All bartenders have strong hands."

  "You're only a part-time bartender."

  "Yes, but vet techs have strong hands as well. Have you ever tried to keep a St. Bernard calm?"

  She rolled her eyes at Josie. "Seriously? I own an animal shelter."

  "This is true." Josie eyed her. "Hey, speaking of animals, perhaps you'll be less afraid of Mack if you think of him as a jerk who's destroying the lives of helpless animals." Josie began setting up empty champagne glasses on the white tablecloth.

  Bev lifted her chin in defiance. "I'm not afraid of him." At Josie's skeptical look, she shrugged. "I just don't feel the need to be rejected by a man like him."

  "In that dress, no man would reject you. Trust me."

  Bev looked down at the low-cut dress. "Speaking of which, do you have a sweater or something I could wear over this?" And sneakers. She couldn't walk five feet in these heels without wobbling. She'd never let Josie pick her wardrobe again.

  "You look fantastic." Josie handed a drink to a guest. "You better go talk to him now. He'll be too busy once they bring out the cake."

  Bev tugged at the neckline of the dress, trying to pull it further up. Unsuccessful, she unfolded a cocktail napkin and spread it across her chest, tucking it into the neckline. "It's his mom's birthday party. It's rude of me to try to discuss business with him."

  "Mack Spenser isn't the type to let a party keep him from talking business. He's probably trying to drum up clients as we speak. And that neckline is perfectly appropriate." Josie yanked the napkin out of Bev's dress. "The man's been tossing back drinks for the last hour. He's in a party mood, just looking for an excuse to make an attractive female swoon with gratitude. Go for it."

  "I don't swoon."

  "It was hypothetical," Josie said. She poked Bev in the arm. "The reason men don't adore you is because you won't let them. Use the dress, Bev. Pull those shoulders back and stick out your chest. You'll be amazed at the effect it has on a virile man."

  "Virile? Aren't you being a little melodramatic?"

  "He's thirty-five, with crystal blue eyes that will pierce you to your soul," Josie sighed. "Just look at that body. Trust me, the man is virile."

  Bev popped an olive in her mouth and eyed Mack. He was no longer being trailed by his model date, but he was now being accosted by another woman. At least fifteen years his senior, she was shamelessly flirting with him. At least Mack didn't seem to be encouraging her, giving her periodic polite nods and tapping his foot in barely concealed irritation.

  If Bev were in a movie theatre, he'd probably sit right on top of her, not even noticing that she was in the seat. True, that had happened only once, and the theatre had been dark, but it hadn't helped her frail teenage ego to have one of the school's football players actually sit on her. Now that she was an adult, she could usually avoid subjecting herself to rejection by the upper echelons of society, and she didn't really feel like putting herself in that situation again.

  "Why don't I help you pour the champagne instead?" Bev picked up a bottle and started to peel the foil off the cork.

  Josie yanked it out of Bev's hand. "I can pour champagne quite easily, thanks. Now, go talk to him. They're going to do the cake in ten minutes." Josie grabbed an envelope that was tucked under the ice bucket. "Here."

  "What's this?"

  "You told me to give it to you if you tried to run away."

  "Oh...yeah." Bev opened the envelope and pulled out five photos of animals at her shelter. "Oooohhh. Why'd you do this to me?"

  Josie shook her head. "Because I'm the one who'd have to listen
to your whining for the next month about how you missed your chance."

  "I don't whine." Bev flipped through the pictures, her heart tightening at the sight of her furry friends who were depending on her.

  "Not usually," Josie agreed. "But I think you'd whine about this." She pointed at the photo Bev was looking at. "Isn't that the beagle you rescued from being euthanized at the shelter yesterday?"

  "Yes, she's such an escape artist, and completely untrained, but she's so sweet."

  "Exactly. Imagine what'll happen to her if you don't go talk to Mack Spenser."

  Bev stared at the picture of the adorable brown and white face, and gritted her teeth, her anger beginning to rise. "Mack Spenser is a jerk. A complete and total bastard."

  "There you go." Josie turned away and scooped some ice in a glass. "Channel that anger."

  "Insensitive money-grubbing workaholic."

  "You go, girl. Now, go out there and tell him."

  "Yeah, that'll get me far. Hi, Mack. You're a jerk and I need a favor from you." Then she looked at the photo of the beagle again, and her anger intensified. "I can do this."

  "Of course you can. Take advantage of the fact you look ravishing in that dress and strut right over to him, asking him for help before he's wiped the drool off his chin. But for heaven's sake, take off those hideous sunglasses first."

  "Give me a break, Josie." Reluctantly removing her fluorescent pink sunglasses, Bev grabbed another olive out of Josie's dish, shoving it in her mouth as she dragged herself around the table. She could definitely do this. Definitely. He was not better than she was. So what if she would feel more confident in her overalls and shoes that she could actually walk in. She was wearing a dress that was way too sexy for her comfort, and she was just going to have to deal with it.

  One more look at the photo of the beagle and she was off.

  Chapter 2

  Mack Spenser nodded at the hum in his ears, hoping it was enough to make it appear he was listening. Today was Saturday, and he should be working. Only his mother's sixtieth birthday party could have dragged him away from the office. He smiled fondly across the grass at his mom, who was beaming at a joke his dad had just told. It was too bad he didn't get to see them more often. Granted, their Boston condo was only twenty minutes from his suburban house, but work didn't allow much time for idle visiting.

  Trying to retain his bland smile, he refocused on the woman talking at him, unable to deal with her any longer. "It was lovely to speak with you, but I must be a good host and circulate."

  Ignoring her disappointed face, Mack turned away, intending to head for the bar. That's when he saw her.

  The woman was standing alone, examining her reflection in the sliding glass doors of his family room. Her blue silk dress accentuated her narrow waist and rounded hips, and faint muscles rippled in her shoulders under the narrow straps of the dress. She looked fit and athletic. And sexy. Her light blond hair was swept up in a thick French braid that fell halfway down her back. She was much too young to be on his parents' guest list. A daughter of one of their friends, maybe?

  He glanced over his shoulder to see if his date was within pouncing distance, but she was busy flirting with his business partner. Mack sighed, then turned back toward the woman in the blue dress.

  He looked at her in time to see her grab the neckline of her dress and yank skyward, her face contorting with the effort. Wrinkling her nose, she studied her reflection. Apparently dissatisfied with the success of the adjustment, she leaned forward, carefully watching herself in the window. She tilted further, bending at the waist. It wasn't until she slapped her hand over her cleavage that he realized she'd been trying to determine whether someone would be able to see down the front of her dress. Her wrinkled forehead and clenched jaw told him she hadn't liked her conclusion.

  He smiled his first genuine smile of the day as he watched her tug her braid free, pulling waves of wild blond hair forward over her shoulders. She spread her hair across her cleavage, then nodded with satisfaction. She turned slowly around, careful not to dislodge her hair from its artful arrangement on her chest.

  She surveyed the yard, her eyes wandering until they came to him. Then she stopped and stared. Even from a distance, he could see her face pale, tension springing into her shoulders. Caused by him? Nah. He didn't even know her. Though he was becoming interested in rectifying that situation.

  She stepped off the deck toward him, then stopped. Her face contorted into a grimace of extreme angst and panic. She yanked what looked like a photograph out of her purse and looked at it, then looked at him, then looked at the photo again.

  Then she shook her head and spun away from him, tripping over Janey, his shaggy mongrel, landing with a thump on the patio.

  He started to run to the deck to pick her up and apologize, but he stopped when he realized that she was hugging Janey and accepting enthusiastic doggy kisses.

  Mack felt his heart warm at her loving caress of his dog. Very few people in his business appreciated Janey when he brought her along. A dog didn't fit in with client meetings and expensive lunches, but he couldn't leave her home alone all day. Since he made bundles of money for his clients, they overlooked this one idiosyncrasy, but it was nice to see someone appreciate the dog. Love her, actually, because Janey was definitely getting some love.

  The woman let Janey into the house, apparently realizing the dog belonged to him. Perhaps it was the identification tag Janey wore? Or maybe the woman just had an instinct for animals. She stared after the rust-colored animal, then yanked the door shut, the thud audible from where he was standing. Pivoting on her heel, she lowered her head and eyed Mack like a bull preparing to charge.

  When she started toward him, cleavage issues apparently forgotten, he instinctively took a step backward. She was headed straight for him, and she looked more determined than his last girlfriend when she wanted a new piece of jewelry. He was definitely her target, a fact which he found most interesting. He watched her approach with an unusual sense of anticipation.

  "Mr. Spenser?" She stopped in front of him, her face flushed and her dark brown eyes intense. Her hair had floated off her chest on the walk over, revealing a neckline that was modest, yet daring. Intriguing.

  "Call me Mack."

  She extended her hand. "I'm Bev Ryan. Love your dog."

  "Thanks. Nice to meet you, Bev." He grinned. Most guests would compliment him on his house, or his garden. Bev had noticed Janey. Definite bonus in his book.

  He shook her hand, holding onto it for just an instant longer than was socially acceptable, and he knew she noticed when her cheeks became even pinker. "Are you a friend of the birthday girl?"

  "Um, actually, I'm a friend of the bartender."

  Mack raised his eyebrow. "The bartender? You don't look dressed to bartend."

  "Um, well, I'm not here to help. I'm here to talk to you."

  "You are?"

  "Yeah. I kinda crashed your party. I'm really sorry."

  "No problem. It was getting boring anyway." He wanted to tell her that he couldn't see down the front of her dress, but figured she'd probably turn even redder if he did. Not that he'd been looking...okay, just a quick glance. Nothing lecherous.

  "It was? But your date..."

  "Is boring. My mom set us up."

  "Oh." Bev appeared to relax slightly. "Well. Okay, then."

  "So, why'd you crash my party? What do you need to talk to me about?" He wondered if her hair was as soft as it looked.

  "The Whittle Company."

  He dragged his eyes off the soft curve of her shoulder. "The Whittle Company? You mean, the company that I'm doing some consulting for? That Whittle Company?"

  "Yes. I need to talk to you about that property you're recommending to them to buy."

  Mack folded his arms across his chest and took a closer look at Bev Ryan. She didn't have the aura of a corporate shark, but why else would she care about Whittle? "How do you know what I'm telling them to buy?"

&nb
sp; "The property owners told me."

  "They did?" He'd have to talk to them about trying to shop around their property while he was looking at it. Either they stopped trying to drive up the price or he was taking his business elsewhere. Unless Bev was lying...though she didn't look the type. "What property are you talking about?"

  "The warehouse in Salem."

  "Ah." That was the property he'd looked at yesterday. He had a meeting with Whittle on Monday, in which he was going to recommend the property. It was perfect for Whittle, which was good because Whittle was becoming irritated with how long it was taking to find a property. As if one month was a long time to find property. Mack was looking forward to getting Whittle settled and off his client list.

  "That's the property you're after, isn't it?" Bev was holding a tattered photo in her hand, glancing at it out of the corner of her eye.

  "What about it?" As appealing as she was, he wasn't giving away anything, at least until he figured out her agenda.

  "Don't buy it."

  He cocked his eyebrow. "Why not?"

  "Because I want it."

  Mack was unable to stifle his smile. "I'm afraid that's not how business works, Bev."

  She narrowed her eyes at his condescension, but didn't remark on it. Instead, she donned a grim smile. "I've been saving up for that property for five years. In another year, I'll be able to buy it."

  "Really." Who saves up for five years to buy a warehouse? A house maybe, but a warehouse?