Paws for a Kiss (Canine Cupids Book 1) Read online

  "You're the first nibble they've had. If you walk away, I'm sure no one else will buy it before I can."

  Interesting. He'd have to check and see what had kept the property on the market for five years without an offer. Overpriced, maybe? High taxes? Whatever it was, it should help him bring the price down.

  "Mr. Spenser? Are you listening to me?"

  He nodded. "Oh, yes."

  "So?"

  "I'm afraid I can't help you."

  "You can't." She opened her mouth as if to protest, then snapped it shut, her forehead wrinkling up in dismay.

  He felt a twinge of guilt for making her look so unhappy. "Why is this so important to you?"

  Bev held up the tattered photo.

  He took it. "Cute beagle."

  "She's homeless."

  Mack looked at the picture more closely, noting the bars behind the dog, and the cement floor. "Is this picture taken in a kennel?"

  Bev tilted her head. "I thought you saw the property?"

  "I went around the outside. Whittle would raze the building so I didn't bother going in. Why would I? It's just an old warehouse."

  "It's an animal shelter called Give a Dog a Bone."

  Ah. It was clicking into place. "You work for this shelter?"

  "I own it."

  He felt a thud in his stomach. Great. He was going to put an animal shelter out of business. He handed the photo back.

  Holding the photo between her fingers, she clasped her fingers on top of her head, shifting her weight restlessly. "If Whittle buys the property, I have nowhere to take the animals. I can't afford another place. The current owners give me a deal because they believe in my shelter."

  "Sorry, Bev. That's not my concern." Don't think about it. Just do your job. That's what you get paid for.

  She clutched the photo in her hand. "Don't you understand? I'll have to send them to the shelters, where they'll die. All of my animals are unadoptable. They need time to heal, or work on behavior issues or whatever before they'll be ready. I even started taking a few cats, and those can be super tough to place."

  "Sorry." He couldn't afford to keep Whittle waiting for another few months while he tried to find another property, assuming he even could.

  Bev pursed her full lips. "What if it was your dog? Would you make the effort for her?"

  The woman was good, he had to give her credit. Nothing like turning the debate personal to get what you want.

  As if sensing his weakness, she pushed harder. "She's awfully cute. Total sweetie."

  He ground his teeth. Of course he'd throw Whittle to the wolves if Janey's life was at stake. But not a bunch of nameless, faceless animals. He couldn't afford that. He hadn't achieved all his success by having a social conscience. Nope. He wasn't bending. "Tell you what, Bev. I'll have the realtor show me a few more sites. I can't promise anything, but I'll see if there are any other options for Whittle."

  Mack scowled. Had he really said that?

  "Seriously?" Her eyes lit up with such excitement that he immediately forgot any regrets he had at capitulating.

  "I'm not promising anything."

  She threw her arms around him in a jubilant hug. "Thank you so much, Mack."

  He patted her back, feeling unworthy of her appreciation. "Don't count on anything I can't promise."

  She released him, her eyes still dancing. "It's all about having faith, Mack. You gotta have faith."

  Faith. It wasn't something he placed a lot of reliance on these days. He was much too cynical for that. And he had a bad feeling that he was going to be the one to burst Bev's bubble.

  "Thanks again, Mack."

  And then she was gone, bounding across the grass toward the bartender. After she tripped on apparently nothing and went sprawling across the ground, she yanked off her heels and ran the rest of the way barefoot, her hair streaming behind her. Mack watched her talk excitedly to the bartender, her hands flailing and her face flushed with excitement.

  "Who was that?"

  Mack dragged his eyes off a jubilant Bev and turned toward the gray-haired woman standing beside him. "Hi, Mom. It was just a business meeting."

  "Since when do your clients hug you, and then run off jumping for joy? Who is she?"

  "It was business. Forget it."

  "Hmm." His mom tucked a gray hair behind her ear and watched Bev hug the bartender. "You looked quite entranced with her when I first walked up."

  He rolled his eyes and purposely turned his back on the bar. "You're imagining things."

  "I didn't imagine the look on your face when you were watching her."

  "She likes my dog."

  "Ah, the way to a man's heart is to love his dog."

  "Sorry, Mom. There's no room in my life for love, even if she does like Janey."

  His mom sighed with despair, and Mack braced himself for the familiar words. "Mack, I'm worried about you."

  "I'm fine."

  "You're working too hard. When was the last time you went on a date?"

  "I've had girlfriends."

  His mom snorted. "You have women that you take to business dinners, who are so in love with your money that they don't make any demands on your time or your emotions for fear of driving away such a good catch. What kind of life is that?"

  He gave up the pretense of ignoring Bev, and glanced toward the bartender. Bev was helping her friend pour champagne, still chattering with visible glee. "It's a secure life. You and Dad have nothing to worry about."

  "William MacDonald Spenser, stop gawking at that woman and look at me."

  Mack kept one eye on Bev, but peered at his mom out of the corner of his eye.

  "Your sister didn't die because of a lack of money to pay for her medical care. She died because it was her time. No matter how much money you earn, you can't bring her back."

  Grinding his teeth, Mack folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not discussing this."

  "My goodness, Mack, you've already earned ridiculous amounts of money. Obscene amounts, actually. It's time for you to slow down and try to find some meaning in life besides work." His mom gestured toward Bev. "Like that sweet thing over there who loves your dog. Ask her out on a real date, one that doesn't have clients sitting across the table from you."

  "I don't have time for a relationship."

  His mom sighed. "Can't you humor me on my birthday? Tell me you'll at least think about slowing down?"

  Mack smiled. "Only because it's your birthday."

  "So you'll think about it?"

  "I'll think about it," he said. "Happy Birthday."

  He escorted her across the grass toward her birthday cake, but he knew he could not fulfill his promise. There was no room for a woman in his life.

  Chapter 3

  Bev walked around the corner to the dogs' play area just in time to see an ornery cocker spaniel attack the beagle she'd recently rescued.

  "Hey! Don't beat her up!" Bev ran across the enclosure. "Stop it!"

  When the beagle let out a pathetic yowl of impending death, Bev dove through the air, grabbing the cocker, who'd done nothing but cause trouble since he'd arrived two days ago. Squawking when his sharp teeth dug into her right hamstring, Bev hauled the cocker off the beagle, getting her wrist chomped in the process.

  "You are such a beast," she said, holding the feisty cocker by the scruff of his neck. She gave the beagle a cursory check, but most of the blood on the dog seemed to be coming from Bev. Aside from trembling hind legs and a tucked tail, the beagle looked all right.

  Bev stood up, holding the cocker at arm's length and trying to stare it down. "You, on the other hand, need to go into solitary confinement until Paige gets a chance to work with you."

  He growled at her, clearly not at all impressed with the threat of having his behavior assessed and improved by Paige Turner, a former Boston lawyer who had given up her career to become a dog trainer in New Hampshire. She donated four days a month to work with Bev and her animals, free of charge, and was one of the
smartest, nicest people Bev had ever met, not to mention, a freaking awesome dog trainer. Something bad had happened to Paige that had made her walk away from her life, but she'd never talked about it. Bev hoped that someday Paige would feel comfortable sharing, because she sensed that it weighed heavily on her. In the meantime, though, they'd bonded as single women and animal lovers, just like she and Josie did, though Josie had something going on lately that she refused to discuss. Something to do with a guy.

  "Fine. Be that way. But just so you know, Paige is going to make you adoptable, no matter how much you want to stay mean." She carried the cocker across the yard, aiming the snapping teeth away from her. "I love you, but you've lost your socialization privileges until Paige can spend some time with you."

  Bev stopped in front of the only empty pen she had left, pulled the gate open and deposited the cocker inside. Bev needed more space, or she needed a helper to take care of the shelter, so she could spend time bringing in new clients to adopt the animals.

  But first she had to do something about her throbbing leg and wrist. She'd have to check her files and make sure the little bully was current on his shots.

  She flicked on the overhead light in her first-aid room, scowling at the empty shelves where supplies were supposed to be. It was time to refill, but she hated asking for charity. She'd do it for the animals, though, like she always did. If only she could win the lottery, then she'd give the animals everything they needed. It would help if she played the lottery, of course, but she didn't have a buck a week to spend on something so unlikely.

  Bev scrubbed her wrist with antiseptic soap, grimacing at the pain. Ow.

  It was quickly cleaned, but her leg wasn't going to be helped so easily.

  She unhooked her overalls and let them drop to the floor, twisting like a pretzel to try to inspect the wound on the back of her hamstring. No such luck. She needed a mirror.

  She was rattling through a drawer when the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Before she could turn around, a masculine voice made her stomach drop.

  "What happened to you?"

  Super. Her pants were around her ankles, and Mack was in her doorway. Bev yanked her pants up and clutched them around her waist, only then turning to face him. "Hi, Mack."

  "You're bleeding." Mack was wearing another custom suit, giving him a look of detached nobility, but his forehead was wrinkled in what could be mistaken for genuine concern.

  "I know that. Thanks." She was vaguely aware of blood trickling down the back of her leg, vitally aware of Mack's looming presence in the small room. "A dog bit me."

  "You need to get that cleaned up."

  "I'm trying." The faint scent of his woodsy aftershave floated across the room, stirring up images of him standing in front of his bathroom mirror in his boxers, applying the cooling liquid to his strong jaw. His shoulders broad, his chest accented with just the right amount of dark hair, hair that would be so soft under her fingertips...

  His eyebrow lifted. "Can't reach it, huh?"

  "Ah..." Reach what?

  "I'll help." He shrugged off his jacket and set it on the metal examining table.

  Bev blinked, shutting images of Mack's naked chest out of her mind. Mack? Help with her leg? Not a chance she was going to let him inspect the back of her thigh. Thighs were for viewing only in private, specifically when it was too dark for the cellulite to be seen. "No, thanks."

  "Why not?" He opened cabinets until he found the first aid supplies. "It'll get infected if you don't clean it, and you can't see it well enough to treat it."

  Bev thought of the model who'd been draped over Mack's arm at his mother's party. Those were the thighs he was used to seeing. Those were the thighs that turned him on. Thighs that were as small as her arm. As if he was going to get a chance to compare her tree trunks to that svelte, perfect body. No way. She tightened her grip on her overalls. "No."

  He pulled a tube of antiseptic cream out of the drawer and set it on the counter. "'No' isn't a good enough reason to resist medical care."

  She was beginning to panic at the determined look on his face, and at the swirl of excitement that raced through her at the thought of his hands on her leg, tending to her wound. "I don't even know you. I'm not going to drop my pants in front of you. You could be a pervert or something."

  The corner of his mouth twitched. "You think I'm a pervert?"

  "Well, no, not really." As if she could be so lucky. Wait, no, she didn't want him to be a pervert, even if he was the first hot guy who'd ever asked her to take her pants off.

  Mack held up the sponge she'd used to scrub her wrist. "Is this clean?"

  "Yes." Her mouth was dry, her tongue barely able to form a word, her heart racing, all at the image of Mack tending to her, taking care of her... Holy cow. Was she losing her mind? He was only offering to take care of a bite wound. He wasn't trying to seduce her. Not Bev Ryan, a lifetime misfit with no money, no fashion sense, and certainly not a body that would ever fuel a man's fantasies. No, Mack would never want her. Not in that way. So she needed to stop inhaling his wonderfully masculine scent and think of the gorgeous model he was escorting at his party.

  No way could Bev compete with that kind of woman. So she needed to stop thinking of him as a man who could surpass her most delightful fantasies. Instead, she needed to think of him as...as... Heaven help her. She couldn’t think of him any other way.

  "Great." He lathered up the sponge, shooting a glance at Bev. "Are you going to faint?"

  "Maybe." Not from her injury, though.

  "If you're feeling lightheaded, you should sit down." His fingers slipped around her arm, his touch warm against her skin. Goosebumps popped up and her breath caught in her throat.

  "Ah..." She twisted out of his grasp and stepped back, trying to ground herself, willing away the rush of blood in her ears.

  "What's wrong?"

  "I'm not taking my pants off in front of you." No, she most definitely wasn't. As if she'd give him a chance to laugh at her, to compare her to the perfect legs all his dates certainly had.

  Mack rubbed his chin, studying her for what seemed to be an eternity, as if he were trying to figure her out. Bev shifted under his scrutiny, her heart still racing at his nearness.

  What was her problem? She'd met plenty of good-looking, sinfully rich men in her life, and none of them had made her feel like she'd been sucked into her most erotic fantasy. Most men of Mack's ilk just disgusted her with their superficial ways and their shallow lives.

  Was it because of Mack's shaggy little dog? A mutt, no doubt. A mutt that he loved. Despite all his money, his sophistication, his incredible looks, he loved a mutt. The man had to be quality. And since he was quality, apparently, that was enough to send her hormones into a kabootzy of craziness.

  Mack seemed oblivious to her rapid descent into lust-blinded-insanity, focusing on the more mundane. "I had a family member who was very sick for a long time. I'm used to doing stuff like this. It's not a big deal to me. If you need my help, don't be embarrassed. If you don't need it, fine."

  He was talking about her injury. No fantasies dancing about in his head. At least not about her. And…she'd seen the shadows in his eyes when he'd mentioned his family member. Mack might live a glitzy life now, but he'd lived through real stuff, hard stuff, and he hadn't forgotten it.

  So…now she felt a little silly freaking about him seeing her legs. Maybe he didn't care about things like that. Maybe he didn't even like those models that wanted to date him. Maybe he was tired of the fact they wouldn't actually eat in public. Maybe he was tired of the fact that they would never dare have a hair or a sleeve out of place. Maybe, he was burning for a real woman, a woman with scars, double-handfuls of booty, and a sense of humor that often refused to be contained, no matter what the circumstances. Right?

  He held up the sponge.

  Or…maybe he just wanted to fix her leg.

  Fine. She could stop perseverating on his hotness, too. She could think about
tooth marks in her skin, no problem. Seriously, she had just been bitten practically in the ass. That was hardly something a girl should forget, just because some hot guy showed up and suggested she drop her pants, right? She could still feel blood dripping down her thigh, and burn was searing her leg. No doubt, the wound needed tending. And he was practically like a doctor. Seen it all. Skin was just skin to him. He wouldn't even be looking at her thighs as a woman. Just a patient. "Swear?"

  He held up his hand. "Scout's honor. I'll notice only the blood."

  She narrowed her eyes at him, but his gaze didn't waver. He did appear trustworthy. And it wasn't like she was trusting him with her heart. Just her leg. He couldn't break that. "Fine."

  Bev took a deep breath, then dropped her pants.

  Chapter 4

  Mack decided he'd been too glib with his promises. There was nothing asexual about how he was feeling with Bev's pants around her ankles. Nothing at all. Her legs were long, curving with seduction. Definitely not his sister. He cleared his throat. "Okay, do you have a towel?"

  She pointed to a cabinet, her lips curved in an appealing pout as she so valiantly tried to fend off her embarrassment. No, he needed to stop noticing her. He'd promised.

  "Great." He grabbed several white cloths, averting his eyes from her body. "You might want to take your pants all the way off, or they're going to get wet when the soap drips down your leg."

  "Ah...good point." Her voice cracked, but she stepped out of her overalls and pulled off her left sock.

  Bev turned around so her back was toward him, so her wound was facing him. Mack tried to focus on the blood on her thigh, but his eyes disobeyed him, straying to the pink dog bones on her underwear.

  Those pale yellow cotton panties with the pink bones were the sexiest lingerie he'd ever seen.

  Dog bones. Sexy. He'd never have thought it.

  He cursed under his breath. Why hadn't she worn a longer shirt? Too late, he realized he'd made a promise he wasn't sure he could keep.