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?"

"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?

"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.