Paws for a Kiss (Canine Cupids Book 1) Page 4

"I'll clean 'em for you," Les said. "You deserve a break."

  Bev grinned at Josie. "Your brother is a real sweetheart."

  "I guess. He's never offered to do my chores for me," Josie said. "I think he has the hots for you."

  Les turned burgundy, and he ducked out of the room, muttering something about getting started.

  Both women laughed, and Bev grabbed her car keys. "Maybe I should start dating your brother. He's the only male I've met who actually thinks I'm worth something."

  Josie lowered her voice. "Don't get me wrong, Bev. I love Les, but he's too wimpy for you. You'd get bored in a month with all the 'Yes, Bev. Whatever you want, Bev. Anything for you, Bev.'"

  "I don't know, that sounds mighty nice right about now. Imagine if Mack had dropped to his knees in adoration the moment I'd asked him to spare my shelter. If he'd said, 'Anything for you, Bev,' my life would be looking pretty rosy."

  The image of Mack on his knees adoring her sent waves of excitement rushing through her. He was so passionate about his work, she was certain if he ever transferred that loyalty and passion to a woman, the woman would be treated like a goddess—adored, loved, and put first in his life. She imagined Mack's hands soothing away her worries, rubbing the tension out of her shoulders...moving lower...followed by his lips, kissing away her troubles...

  "Maybe Les was onto something. Did you try to change Mack's mind with your body? Might be worth trying."

  A jolt of awareness made Bev shudder as Josie's suggestion intensified the images racing through her mind.

  Shaking her head to clear it, Bev rolled her eyes and walked into the cement-floored hallway, nearly catching her toe on the rubber mat covering it. "Not my style, Josie. You may have been a geek in high school, but at least you weren't fat."

  No way was she sexually confident enough to try to seduce Mack. Not when she wanted him so much that rejection would devastate her. Better to forget about him. Or at least try. Focus on the fact that his actions were going to make her animals homeless.

  Emotion welled up inside her at the thought of her precious animals. Yes, that should help her to stop fantasizing about a man she had no business fantasizing about.

  They stepped out into the sunshine, and Bev pulled her pink sunglasses out of her purse.

  Josie grabbed her arm and spun her around until they were facing the glass door. "Look at yourself, Bev. You aren't fat anymore." She grabbed the waistband of Bev's baggy overalls and cinched them in. "You have some seriously badass curves underneath all that baggy denim. Use them, girl."

  Bev shoved the sunglasses on her face and turned away, suppressing her longing for the courage to embrace her sexuality the way Josie could. "Sorry, Josie. That's your game, not mine."

  Josie frowned. "When are you going to believe that you're a hot item now?"

  Pausing with her hand on the rim of her car door, Bev said, "Josie, it's not that there was a thin, cool chick hidden beneath the layers of fat when I was younger. It's that there is a fat loser hidden beneath my less chunky body today. I'd rather not raise my expectations that those people that used to sit on me will suddenly adore me. Life is a lot easier if you make your expectations realistic."

  "At least admit that you looked great in my dress."

  "I'll admit that I was never as aware of my breasts as I was when I was wearing it. Now, I have to run. My shift starts in six minutes, and I have to grab some food on the way there."

  "You're going to kill yourself if you keep running Give a Dog a Bone by yourself, and working so many hours at the clinic."

  "I don't have a choice, do I? I need to pay my bills. Plus, I get free or cheap supplies through the office. Being a vet tech has good perks when you run a shelter."

  "I'm worried about you, Bev."

  "Worry about the animals instead. They're the ones in trouble."

  Josie furrowed her brow. "I'll stay and help Les, so you don't need to come back tonight. Go home and post a plea for donations on the Internet. Maybe you'll become a cause."

  Bev squeezed her friend's shoulder. "You're the best, Josie. And that's not a bad idea. I'll spend some time tonight working on it."

  "You'll think of something. And when you think of it, Les and I will do whatever you need to help you."

  "Speaking of Les, give your brother my love, will you?"

  "He's too wimpy for you."

  "Better a wimp than a heartless fiend," Bev said, as she climbed into her rusty car. Not that she was having any success convincing herself that Mack was a heartless fiend, and imagining Les's hands on her body was nearly enough to make her feel nauseous, especially when she could still feel Mack's stirring touch on her leg.

  Leaving her car door open, she whistled shrilly. In a moment, there was a clatter of toenails across the sidewalk, and a thirty-pound ball of smoky gray hair shot across her lap to the passenger seat. "Good boy, Mac."

  She had just shut the door when Josie appeared in the window. "You do realize that your dog has the same name as the man who's ruining your life, don't you?"

  Bev stared at her friend. "I never thought of it." She ruffled the shaggy head, the brown eyes barely visible beneath the thick hair. "I guess I'll have to change my dog's name. It would be too insulting to leave him named after Mr. Spenser."

  Not to mention, every time she called her dog, she'd think of Mack. There was no need to torture herself that way. Definitely, time to rename her dog.

  "I think it's an omen."

  Silently reciting a good luck ditty, Bev turned the ignition, grimacing while the engine sputtered. "What kind of omen? That my dog will turn out to be a killer?"

  "That this deal with Mack isn't over yet."

  A surge of hope rushed through Bev at Josie's suggestion, and she wasn't sure whether it was for the shelter's sake or her own hormones. No, it was for the shelter. Give a Dog a Bone was what mattered, not her ridiculous attraction to a man who would never want her.

  The engine finally roared to life, and Bev relaxed. "I'm sure it's over. The man is blind to anything that doesn't have dollar signs on it." Including a woman without money, sophistication, or a body that would rock his world. A woman like her: simple, ordinary, and invisible.

  Chapter 6

  Two days later, Mack pulled his freshly washed Range Rover into the tiny parking lot, trying unsuccessfully not to dread what was coming. Whittle had liked Mack's presentation, and was interested in the property. Bev's property.

  Mack had not felt his usual satisfaction at having a client accept his recommendations. Instead, he'd thought of Bev and how her face would fall, how her dark brown eyes would fill up with pain, how it would all be his fault.

  And now it was time to show Whittle the property. He'd been hoping that Bev wouldn't be here, but there was a rusted hatchback in the lot that he was willing to wager was hers. The four bags of dog food and three fleece beds in the backseat made it a pretty sure bet.

  He waited for Whittle to climb out of his BMW, the evening sun turning the man's bald head to pale gray. "Good evening, Mr. Whittle."

  Whittle slapped his hand on Mack's shoulder. "On time as usual, my boy. I like that about you."

  Mack shifted out of Whittle's reach, inexplicably annoyed by him. "Shall we take a walk around the perimeter of the property so you can see it?"

  Whittle jerked his head toward the warehouse. "Let's go in there."

  "Oh, it's just a warehouse. You'll be tearing it down anyway." Had he gone soft? He was trying to avoid going in the warehouse so he wouldn't have to face Bev? She was a woman, not a two-headed pit bull with rabies. A woman with a heart he was breaking, a body he couldn't stop thinking about. Not a good combination.

  "You tryin' to hide something in there, Spenser?" Whittle shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose so he could inspect Mack.

  "Not at all. Just trying to use your time wisely. I know you're a busy man."

  Whittle acknowledged Mack with a slight nod. "You're right, my boy. My time is valuable. I do, how
ever, think it's worth a quick stroll through the interior." He waved his pudgy hand. "Lead on."

  "Yes, sir." Mack pulled open the door and led the way inside. The front desk was unattended, with a sign pointing toward a bell in case he needed assistance.

  He opted not to summon Bev to the front, not that he was avoiding her. He was merely trying to spare her the pain. "It used to be a warehouse, but now it's being used as an animal shelter."

  Whittle wrinkled his beaked nose. "I can smell."

  Mack led the way through the dog pens, the chorus of frantically barking dogs nearly deafening.

  "I left my wallet in the car. Go get it," Whittle held out his keys to Mack.

  "Go get it?"

  "Yes. You're so much faster. Go, go. You can catch up."

  Mack grabbed the BMW key chain, camouflaging his irritation in a tense smile. "Be right back."

  He loped to the front door, trying to remember why he kept his job. Put animals out of a home and take orders from a man like Whittle. Upsetting the sexiest woman he'd ever met. Destroying her world, more likely. Was it really worth the paycheck?

  Mack shoved open the outside door. Of course it was worth it. What else was he supposed to do? He worked. He earned money. Lots of it. That's what he did, and it was the right thing to do to keep anyone else he loved from suffering. So he needed to quit beating himself up about it.

  Wallet in hand, he returned in time to see Whittle waddling toward Bev, who had appeared at the end of the aisle. Her luscious hair was shoved in a crooked ponytail on top of her head, and her hands were on her hips. Soft tendrils hung down, blond wisps which framed her cheeks and drew his attention to her full mouth. Baggy overalls hid her shapely figure, but he'd seen enough of it to know what lay underneath.

  She was studying Whittle, her lips pursed in thought. It wasn't the agitated expression he'd have expected from her at the appearance of Whittle. A surge of relief shot through him. Maybe she'd already found a place and wasn't upset about losing the warehouse anymore. He grinned. What a relief that would be.

  "Good afternoon, I'm Bev Ryan, the owner. Are you looking for a cat to adopt?"

  He tensed his shoulders, realizing she'd been studying Whittle to figure out what kind of animal he wanted to adopt. She didn't look upset because she hadn't realized who Whittle was yet. Mack felt even worse, wondering if she'd believe him that he hadn't intended to deceive her as to Whittle's true identity.

  Nothing seemed to go right in his interactions with Bev. It was a good thing he wasn't interested in her, because he'd really be messing things up if he were. But he wasn't. The dreams he'd been having about her the last two nights, the ones in which they'd been taking their dogs on a walk through the woods, only to end up tumbling in the leaves... He felt his loins tighten. Those dreams meant nothing, other than that there was a base level of attraction. And the fact that he never dreamed about other women most certainly didn't indicate there was anything different about Bev.

  He could hear Whittle's snort from the other end of the hall. "I'm not here to get one of these creatures. I'm thinking of buying the place."

  The man was all tact, Mack thought with disgust.

  Bev's forehead furrowed and she tilted her head, trying to sort out what was going on. Mack walked down the hall toward them, noting the instant when Bev saw him coming. Her eyes widened, then flicked back to Whittle. Then her smile disappeared and the lines around her eyes deepened. She pressed her lips into a thin line and glared at Mack, stabbing a knife into his gut with her gaze.

  He reached Whittle, opening his mouth to apologize, but Bev shot him an evil glance that silenced him. Whatever he could say with Whittle around wouldn't be sufficient. He'd have to come back later. And he knew he would, because he couldn't walk out of Bev's life knowing that she hated him.

  Bev's chin wobbled and her shoulders sagged. Then a beagle in the next cage howled, and Bev's demeanor changed. She threw her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and clenched her fists. Then her face broke into the most enchanting smile he'd ever seen. His heart sped up, his breath caught for an instant, and his blood raced to the lower half of his body.

  Until he realized her smile was directed at Whittle, not him.

  "Oh, that is such wonderful news. Let me show you around." Bev tucked her arm through Whittle's and began guiding him down the next hallway. "I'm so glad they've finally found someone to buy this place."

  "You are?" Shrugging off an irritating feeling of disappointment, Mack hurried to catch up. He fell in beside Bev, who managed to bump him into a wet hose without missing a step or taking her gaze off Whittle's face.

  "Have you seen the outside yet? There's so much nice land out there. It'll be a great location for a gas station. One of those supersized ones, with twelve pumps? You must be so excited."

  Whittle smiled at Bev, completely oblivious to Mack. "Why no, my dear, I'm going to put up an office building. Wherever did you get the idea that I was going to put in a gas station?"

  Bev tittered with delight and patted Whittle's arm. "Oh, so you must have solved the EPA issue. That's fabulous. I never thought they'd back down on that."

  "Bev," Mack warned, but he was too late. The little vixen.

  Whittle had stopped and was staring at Bev. "What EPA issue?"

  She had the gall to shove her hands deep into those overall pockets and look appalled. "Don't tell me that the sellers didn't tell you?"

  "Tell me what?"

  "Bev," Mack said, but Whittle waved him into silence.

  "Shush, my boy. I want to hear what the girl has to say."

  "Well, this was a gas station for many years, and they didn't do a good job of containing the gasoline," she said, keeping her dark brown eyes averted from Mack's face.

  "You don't say." Whittle was clearly becoming alarmed.

  "Well, this site was labeled as contaminated by the EPA, which is why the owners haven't been able to sell. I signed a twenty-year lease for the place, and I can't get out of it until they sell. Of course, I didn't know about the contamination either, and I'm really worried about what it'll do to my animals. That's why I figured you were putting in a gas station, you know, because it was already contaminated and such. What more damage could you do?"

  Whittle turned on Mack, his cheeks blazing with anger. "Spenser! What's going on?"

  Mack glared at Bev, who merely flashed him her charming smile and clasped her hands behind her back, a picture of innocence. If he weren't about to lose a client, he'd be impressed by her resourcefulness and spunk. Actually, he was impressed, but he was also irritated. She was forcing him to embarrass her in public, but he had no choice.

  Knowing it was probably pushing him beyond any chance of redemption with Bev, and ignoring his regret at that fact, he said, "Mr. Whittle, I'm afraid Ms. Ryan is playing a little joke on you." The smile vanished from Bev's face. "She doesn't want to move her shelter, so she's trying to drive you away by making up stories."

  Those beautiful brown eyes narrowed, and the blond ponytail appeared to droop.

  Whittle turned to Bev. "Is that right, Ms. Ryan?"

  Mack had never noticed how full her lips were, until she pursed them in anguished thought. Pursed them in a delectably kissable pose. "Bev? Are you going to answer Mr. Whittle?"

  If she continued to lie, it would be easy for Mack to dig up evidence that proved her wrong. She knew it, but it was apparent she was not yet ready to capitulate. He was liking her more by the minute. The woman was a fighter. If he weren't her enemy, he'd be her ally. In a heartbeat.

  Silence seemed to hang forever, but finally she spoke. "Let me just say that it doesn't impress me when a man tries to make a woman into a liar just to protect his reputation."

  Whittle stared at Bev for a long moment, and to her credit, she didn't flinch. The only thing that gave her away was the nervousness in her eyes, but Mack doubted Whittle was that observant.

  "Well, Spenser, I think we'd better go visit the seller and find out what's g
oing on. If you really screwed up and tried to turn me against this poor woman to hide your mess, you're fired." Whittle patted Bev's arm. "Thank you for not being afraid to tell the truth, my dear. You don't find many honest people in today's business world."

  He then turned to Mack. "You. Let's go." And he marched down the hallway, disappearing around the corner.

  The instant they were alone, Bev's courage appeared to fade. She pulled out her hair elastic and let her hair fall over her face, as if she were hiding behind it. It took all of Mack's control not to bury his hands in the silken strands and push it away so he could see her beautiful face. "You know Whittle's going to find out you made up that EPA story."

  "I know."

  "Then why did you do it?"

  "The owners are away for a few days. It buys me more time." She tilted her head so she could peer at him through her hair. "Plus, I'm still mad at you, so I was kind of hoping for a little revenge, even if it's just temporary."

  He couldn't stop himself from grinning. "I think you succeeded. Whittle is at my car right now, trying to decide whether I'm a lying crook who tried to get him to buy bad property or an incompetent dolt who didn't do my research before showing it to him."

  She couldn't keep the dimple in her right cheek from peeking out. "I'm sorry?"

  "Don't believe you."

  She grinned, and tucked her hair behind her ear. "You deserve it. How many people have you ruined?"

  "None, as far as I know. I just help companies run their businesses more efficiently and make more money. Nothing harmful about that."

  "Until now."

  Mack shoved his hands into the pockets of his pleated pants. The pants that weren't fit for cleaning out animal cages. "Until now," he agreed.

  She jerked her head so sharply she startled him. "You admit you're causing me harm?"

  "Just because I admit that I'm causing you distress doesn't mean I'm going to abandon this property." Though a part of him wished he could. If he were buying it for himself, he'd probably walk away. Not that it mattered. He was advising Whittle, so it was Whittle's interest he had to represent.