Bev leaned on the mop and wiped the sweat out of her eyes. "It's way too hot to be cleaning pens."

"Save the poop. We can stash it in Whittle's car." Josie was sitting on the dog food bins, her sandals hanging off her tanned feet as she studied the Sunday paper. "Here's another listing. This property is five acres with an old warehouse on it, currently being used as a dog shelter...oh, wait, that's this property. Shoot. It sounded perfect."

"It's no use reading that, Josie. I've gone over every listing within two hundred miles. There's nothing I can afford." She wondered what Mack was doing at that moment. Probably enjoying a fancy air-conditioned lunch of escargot somewhere.

It had been thirteen hours since their kiss...as if "kiss" could begin to describe what had happened between them. She still didn't know what to think. Why on earth had she let him kiss her like that? She should hate him. She knew she should. But something inside her wanted him.

Sex? Was it just some primal sex-fiend side of her that she didn't know about? Was it some sort of PTSD from being rejected so many times in high school, forcing her to leap upon the first opportunity to get nailed by the "hot" guy? Didn't she have morals? He didn't love her. She didn't love him. They didn't even like each other.

Okay, that was a total lie. She liked him. He was funny. He was thoughtful. He had a rescue dog. And there were shadows in his eyes that called to her. There was more to him than he showed, and she wanted to know what it was.

God, what was wrong with her? She was in the middle of a crisis that he had caused, and she couldn't stop thinking about whether she shouldn't have stopped him last night. Was it so wrong to make love to a man because he made her body sing? Did she really have to stop because he didn't love her? She wasn't so sure anymore. A part of her longed to throw herself at Mack and enjoy the ride for as long and as far as he would take her. Heck, if reality was anything like her dreams about him had been, it would be worth the risk of having her heart broken.

"Have faith. I bet that crowd funding plea you set up online is going to get you tons of donations." Apparently oblivious to the intense moral dilemma raging inside Bev, Josie tossed aside the real estate section and picked up the classifieds. "It was brilliant to use the photo of the beagle. No one will be able to resist handing over cash to save that cute little face."

"I hope so. I've posted it every ten minutes on all my social media accounts in an attempt to annoy everyone I know so much that they'll share it just to make me stop."

"Success through harassment. I love it." Josie cocked her head. "So, I drove by last night and saw Mack's car outside. Late night visit?"

And that question was going to help so much with her goal of trying not to think about Mack. Bev propped her mop against the wall, set her hands on her hips, and faced her friend. "Should I ask Les out?" Oh…that question actually hurt coming out. Asking Les out? The idea of it kind of made her face want to contort in horror.

Two thuds sounded as Josie's flip-flops slid off her feet to the floor. "What? You want to ask Les out? What are you talking about?"

Bev shrugged, avoiding eye contact as she checked her wrists for a hair elastic, but found none. The moment she didn't find one, her hair immediately started to annoy her, and she needed it in a ponytail immediately. "I don't know. He likes me, doesn't he?" Why couldn't Mack feel about her the way Les did? Why couldn't she react to Les the way she did when Mack touched her? It was so irritating.

"Well, yeah, but I like you too and I don't think you should ask me out."

"He's been out all morning distributing flyers about the shelter. Mack would never do that for me." Actually, she didn't know that. Mack had offered to help her numerous times... Maybe he really was more like Les, in all the right ways. No, he wasn't. He didn't believe in love.

Bev picked up a thin piece of rope and braided it through her hair, tying a knot at the end. It wasn't attractive, but at least it kept her hair off her neck. When she finished and dropped her hands, she realized that Josie was staring at her, the newspaper floating softly to the floor. "What's wrong with you?" she asked Josie.

"Why are you comparing Les to Mack?"

"I'm not." Bev picked up the mop and resumed vigorous mopping.

A thud sounded as Josie jumped off the bin. "Beverly Ryan, you stop mopping right now and talk to me."

"I have nothing to say." But she set her mop aside and turned toward her friend. "Mack kissed me." Articulating it made all the emotions and feelings of last night come tumbling back. Her stomach jumped into flip-flops and a shiver of excitement curled her toes.

"No way." Josie's shriek set the dogs howling.

"Yep. And then he told me that he was still stealing my shelter, because kissing me and ruining my life were completely unrelated things."

"Wow." Josie's flip-flops clopped on the cement floor as she hurried across the floor toward Bev. "And then what?"

"He walked me to my car. To make sure I was safe." A gentleman, no doubt. She wondered whether he did things like that for all women, or just her. How she wanted to be special.

"Did he really? How utterly gallant and fiendishly obnoxious at the same time." Josie grabbed the mop from Bev and inverted it so the mop head was at face level. Cradling the handle in the crook of her arm, she began to dance around the pen, her eyelids at half-mast and a demure smile upon her face.

"What are you doing?"

"Showing you what you and Mack will look like dancing at your wedding. You're the skinny mop, of course, with the wild hairdo."

Bev rolled her eyes and grabbed the mop from her friend. "You were up late reading a romance novel last night again, weren't you?"

"As always. I love happy endings. Plus, my mom would stop harassing me about getting married if she could plan your wedding. She really needs one, and you could fill in for me."

"Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but there'll be no happy ending for me and Mack. I prefer someone who thinks I'm at least a fraction more important than work. Just because the man brought me dinner and walked me to my car does not mean he falls into that category of men."

"He brought you dinner?" Josie sighed.

"And wine, but the calzone was half-eaten and the wine was already opened. And we drank out of the cups I use for my stool samples." Definitely not romantic. Actually, it was the most romantic dinner she'd ever experienced, because it had been Mack who'd brought her the food. But there was no need to let herself think of that. No need at all.

Thankfully, they were interrupted before Josie could continue to spin her romantic fantasies and lure Bev into them.

"Bev? Josie? Where are you guys?" Les's beleaguered voice echoed against the cement walls, arousing a few yips.

"Aisle four," Bev shouted. She lowered her voice to normal. "Les thinks I'm more important than his work."

"That's because Les works at a bowling alley. He thinks anything is more important than his work. Not that I don't love my brother, but he's not exactly a stud."

"I'm sure he'd kiss just fine." Heaven help her, the thought of kissing Les gave her the willies. Mack had ruined her for all other men. The jerk.

"Which reminds me, was Mack a good kisser?" Josie waved her hands in dismissal. "Never mind. Of course he was. Wasn't he?"

"You could say that." Or she could say that he'd caused her to soar above the earth, made her senses vibrate and aroused her like she'd never been before.

She was spared the need for further elucidation by the timely appearance of Les, wearing baggy sweatpants and a button-down shirt that didn't quite close over his belly. She chewed her lower lip, but she just couldn't cope with the image of him straddling her the way Mack had. Yep, she was definitely hopeless, unless she could find a way to get over Mack. "Hey, Les. How's it going?"

Les wiped a hand through his thinning hair and beamed at Bev. "Great. I covered three churches today and handed out a bunch of flyers when people were leaving."

"You're the best, Les," Bev said. "Thanks so much for your help."

A faint pink highlighted his cheeks. "Anything for you, Bev."

Josie snorted, and Bev was barely able to keep the corners of her mouth from curling up. Despite her friend's insistence to the contrary, Bev doubted whether she'd get tired of a man being so nice to her, doing nice things like bandaging her leg and bringing her dinner… Darn it. She didn't want Les doing those things for her. Mack was the only one who would suffice. "Hey, Les, do you want to go to dinner with me tonight?"

Ignoring Josie's horrible coughing fit, Bev smiled brightly at Les, who had paled to a sickly gray, with a trickle of sweat easing down his temple. "Um… gosh… well, I don't know. I'll have to see."

He shoved the leftover flyers into the arms of his choking sister, then bolted out of the room. Bev sagged with relief at his disappearance, knowing she could never have actually gone to dinner with him. What if he touched her arm? Or tried to kiss her? There was no way she could tolerate it, not with the memories of Mack's kisses so vivid.

Damn. Why had she asked him? That had been unfair to do to him. It was Mack's fault. He was turning her brain into sex-induced-mush.

Josie turned to Bev and sighed with dramatic effect. "See? He isn't enough man for you, Bev. He'd drive you crazy in a week, and then you'd have to break his heart. Your friendship with him will be ruined, and then I'll be pulled heartlessly between you two, driving me to a state of total insanity so you'd have to send me off to a mental institution. If you love me, you'll stay away from Les." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Unless, of course, I got a really handsome, single doctor at the mental institution who decided that he would take it upon himself to cure me… that might be okay."

"What would I do without you to keep my view of reality on track? Thank heavens I have you around." Bev resumed mopping for the umpteenth time. "I love you way too much to send you to a mental hospital, so I'll stay away from your brother." No need to admit the truth to her friend, that she was staying away from Les because she was hopelessly hung up on Mack.

Then the shelter landline rang

"Oh, my heavens, I bet that's Mack, calling to beg your forgiveness and give you the shelter." Josie dropped the flyers on the floor and sprinted to the ancient black phone stuck to the wall. "Give a Dog a Bone Animal Rescue. Can I help you?"

After listening for a moment, Josie held the phone out to Bev. "It's not Mack."

Scowling at the disappointment that surged through her, Bev leaned the mop handle against the wall and walked over to the phone. "This is Bev."

"Are you the one who's looking for a donation for your animal rescue shelter?" It was the crackly voice of an older person, but Bev couldn’t tell whether it was male or female.

"Yes, it is. We're looking for donations of equipment, money or facilities, all tax-deductible of course."

"I might have something for you. Meet me for dinner at Chez Pierre tonight at six."

"Um… okay." Bev really hoped it wasn't a crazy old man or a stalker setting her up, but she couldn't risk not going, not with the shelter at stake. Any little donation helped. "How will I know you?"

"Just tell the maître d' you're with Mrs. Jezebel Barnum. He'll find me. And bring a date. I hate business dinners." And then the line went dead.

That sealed it. Definitely a prank phone call. Trying to get her to bring a date. Everyone knew she had no one to bring.

"Who was that?"

"Prank call." Bev stalked back over to the mop. She wasn't going to stop until she got the blasted pen clean.

"Really? Was it a phone sex stalker?"

Bev eyed her friend. "You have issues. You know that, don't you?"'

"Yep. So? Who was it?"

"Some lady claiming to be Mrs. Jezebel Barnum who wants to meet me for dinner at Chez Pierre at six tonight to discuss a possible donation to Give a Dog a Bone."

Josie frowned. "So, why do you think it's a prank?"

"Because she ended the conversation with the order that I bring a date. A date? Who brings a date to a meeting about a shelter? Obviously, it's some jerk who is just trying to make me look like a fool." It hadn't happened since high school, someone making fun of her less-than-active social life, but it still hadn't changed. Once a loser, always a loser. But dammit. She didn't want to play that game anymore. She was so done with what she had once been.

But Josie wasn't so quick to be dissuaded. "Chez Pierre is a really fancy restaurant. I can see how someone might think a date would be appropriate."

Bev tensed. "How fancy is 'really' fancy?"

"Fancy. You'll have to borrow one of my dresses." Josie rubbed her chin. "I don't think you can afford to skip this dinner, in case it's legit. Any donor who wants to meet there has definite potential."

"Either that or Mrs. Jezebel Barnum is a crafty old witch who's looking for ways to get destitute people to buy her dinner." Bev shoved the mop across the floor with extra force, irritated by the phone call. Did she believe it and go to dinner, or skip it and risk missing out on something? And to a fancy restaurant. It was sure to be the kind of place she didn't belong. Tables filled with beautiful, sophisticated people in expensive clothes who knew exactly which fork to use. But her animals... "Darn it. I have to go, don't I? Even if there is only a teeny-tiny chance it's legit."

"Yep. And you can't bring Les to a place like that."

Bev jammed the mop into the last dirty crevice. "Then who am I supposed to bring? You?"

Josie grinned. "Nope."

"I don't have anyone to bring." Bev put the mop into the mop bucket and began wheeling it to the water closet. "I'll go alone."

Josie was standing in her way. "Ask Mack."

Her response was automatic. "No chance." But even as the words fell from her lips, some decidedly traitorous part of her shivered with something that was far from terror. She blinked. "Can you imagine going to a fancy place like that on Mack's arm?"

Josie grinned. "I know, right? You'd belong."

"I'd belong." The words sounded magical. For as long as she could remember, places with fancy, attractive people had made her skulk to the nearest exit and sit in the corner of the nearest alley in atonement for daring to think she deserved to be there.

But with Mack on her arm, she would fit. He exuded so much freaking "upper crust" material that he could make a rabid, diseased cockroach fit in to ooh-la-la society, and she was definitely several cuts above a tainted insect.

Wow. If she took Mack to a place like that, then he might even decide she could fit into his world, and see her as someone he could take out in public, instead of someone worthy only of a clandestine romp on a dog bed in an animal shelter…

Gah. What was she thinking? Hello, delusional thoughts. So nice to see you again. No matter how far above cockroaches she was on the societal food chain, she would never fit into Mack's world. There was no point in trying to delude herself, or get a temporary escort into it, because eventually, she'd crash and burn, and then her little hopes and dreams would be ruthlessly destroyed once again. Who needed that? Not her. Which meant no Cinderella moment with Mack as her date for one evening.

Josie held out her phone. "Call him."

Bev's apparently self-deluded hand actually reached out for the phone before she managed to regain control of her muscles and jam her hand into her pocket. "Definitely not. Never. No chance. That is ridiculous. I am leaving."

She quickly wheeled the mop bucket around Josie, spilling half the contents in her haste to get away from her much-too-romantic friend. As if she'd embarrass herself by asking Mack out on a date. A date, for heaven's sake. With Mack. The thought made her stomach flutter and her breath catch in her chest.

Oh, come on, already. Really with the butterflies? Hadn't she just made it clear to herself that a date with Mack was a no-go? She was pretty sure she had. So why was she revisiting it again?

Josie leaned against the peeling paint of the doorframe. "He's the one driving you out of business. If he didn't feel guilty, he wouldn't have brought you food. He'll jump at the chance to help you."

"Yes, he probably would, but that's not the point." Bev slammed the bucket down, yelping when the wheel smashed her little toe. She wanted to call Mack, burned to see him again. Which was why she wasn't going to. All it had taken was that one kiss with him, and she was getting all dreamy about him, which was stupid because her self-esteem really wasn't solid enough to handle liking him and getting ditched.

Josie raised her eyebrows. "He's your secret weapon."

"I don't need a secret weapon. I have my own awesomeness." She bit her lip. "How exactly is he a secret weapon?"

"He's an expert in negotiation and business. The man makes deals every day for a living, and can talk any company into doing whatever he says. You, on the other hand, have the talent of a stray cat when it comes to business."

"Gee, thanks." Bev nudged the bucket into the corner with her throbbing toe, contemplating Josie's point. "I do admit that he has more negotiating skills than I do."

"That he does."

"And he's used to getting people to fork over money."

"That he is."

"And he does owe me."

"This is true."

Bev grimaced, her heart starting to race. "If I invited him, it wouldn't be like I'm calling him because I want him romantically or anything like that."

Josie raised both eyebrows, but she nodded sagely. "Not at all. It would be for the animals."

"It's not as if I'd be asking him on a date." Yes, she'd already made that point, but she kinda felt like it was important to make it again.

"Nope. Just helping you out with business." Josie's eyes were dancing, obviously not believing her own words. The damn woman was match-making, which was super annoying, especially because Bev wanted her to be right.

"No. No, I don't want to date him, so stop giving me that look."

Josie's face became innocent. "What look?"

"You know what look." Bev sighed, rubbing the back of her hand over her forehead. Yes, thinking of Mack romantically would be a huge mistake, and asking him to a nice dinner was putting temptation much too close. But for her animals, she would do anything. She sighed. "You're right. Mack's my best chance. I could prey on his rescue-dog-owner guilt and get his help. His platonic, business help, right?"

Josie nodded solemnly. "Right." She held up Bev's phone again.

"Okay, then." Not giving herself an opportunity to change her mind, she marched over to the phone. Her hand was shaking when she took her phone, and then saw that Josie had already looked up Mack's office number.

"It's ringing." A woman answered the phone, announcing the name of the firm Mack worked for. Bev closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the scent of dogs and cedar chips filling her nose. "Um, hello. May I speak to Mack Spenser please?"

"He isn't in. May I take a message?"

Bev hesitated, not sure she wanted to rely on someone to translate. "May I have his voice mail, instead?" His admin cheerfully complied, and Bev was promptly connected with his voicemail. Relief flowed through her that she didn't have to talk to him, while disappointment tightened her grip on the phone. "Um, hi. It's Bev Ryan. I'm calling because I need a favor. A potential donor named Jezebel Barnum has invited me to dinner at Chez Pierre tonight at six, and I have to bring a date. Since you're responsible for the fact that I have to beg for money, I would like you to go with me and help me beg. If you're available, I'll just meet you at Chez Pierre a little before six. Thanks. Bye."

Bev slammed down the phone and stared at her friend. "I need a dress."