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.

"How's it look?" Bev asked.

"Great."

"What?"

He belatedly looked at the injury. "I don't think you'll need stitches."

"Good."

He tried to concentrate on the tooth marks, without letting himself think about her soft skin. Mack soaked the sponge, then squirted antiseptic soap on it. Armed with the sponge, he squatted behind her, his face level with the rounded swells of her bottom. He was so close he could see the delicate blond hairs on her thigh, a tantalizing temptation. He cursed again, closing his eyes and changed the subject. "So, how do you fund the shelter?"

"Donations, mostly. I work as a vet tech part time."

"A vet tech? That can't pay much."

"It doesn't. But they give my animals free vet care and donate some supplies, so the benefits are much larger than my paycheck. Plus I can work flexible hours there because it's open from six in the morning until ten at night. I can take whatever shifts work for me, squeezing in a few hours whenever I can."

"Huh. Pretty good plan." He was impressed, both with her resourcefulness and her willingness to take part of her compensation in care for her animals. Altruistic didn't even begin to describe this woman. He was more impressed by the minute.

Having regained enough control to behave with some sense of decorum, he opened his eyes and focused on the injury. He scrubbed gently, cringing as the lacerated skin moved under his touch. He knew he had to be causing her pain. "Am I hurting you?"

"No."

"You sound surprised." Any conversation to keep him from thinking about the appealing way her hips curved into her thighs.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as the type to have a gentle touch."

"I've got some skills when it comes to touching."

Bev made a strangled sound. "What?"

"I meant, administering medical aid." At least, he hoped that was what he meant...

"Oh, right. Of course that's what you meant."

Was it his imagination, or was there a tinge of resignation in her voice? Probably his libido distorting reality.

Her muscles began to relax under his soothing scrubbing, making his own muscles tense up even more as he imagined her body responding to his touch in another situation... Her skin was smooth, smelling like fresh soap, not loads of perfume, like his dates usually wore. He hadn't realized how much he preferred Bev's pure scent, until now.

"Time to rinse." He stood up and ran the sponge through the water, hoping Bev wouldn't see the sweat on his forehead. It wasn't that hot out today. "Okay. Almost done."

He rinsed the soap off her leg, watching the suds run down her thigh like a foamy stream, finding its path along her skin…along the back of her knee...over the shapely curve of her calf...down either side of her Achilles...

"Want the towel?"

He held up his hand, fearful that if he opened his mouth, some embarrassing comment about how he wanted to tear the rest of her clothes off would tumble out. Then she'd probably kick him in the face and call the police. And he'd deserve it.

Mack ran the towel down her skin, wrapping both hands around her leg, patting the lacerated skin. Bev was the type of woman a man couldn't dally with. Either he meant it, or he didn't touch her. She was genuine, the kind who deserved to have a man who put her first. Not the kind of woman who'd be would be satisfied with a call once a month to attend a business dinner with him, which was all he had time for. And since that was all he had time for in his life, he had to stay away from her. If he could.

"I think it's dry." Her voice was cool, with just the slightest squeak at the end. Was she as aware of the intimacy of his position as he was? Or maybe he'd hurt her cut. That was more likely. Or maybe she'd just noticed that he'd spent much longer than was necessary drying her leg.

"Right." He tossed the towel on the floor, then accepted the antibiotic cream from her. After squeezing a sizable glob onto his finger, he dabbed it on the cut and then rubbed. Bev flinched and sucked in her breath, but didn't resist.

The women he dated would be crying by now, begging him to make them feel better, but not Bev. She was getting to him, and he had no business thinking of her that way.

He bandaged the wound as quickly as he could, trying not to think about how silky smooth her skin was under his hand, or how he only had to lean forward a couple inches and his forehead would be against the tempting curves of her bottom. "All done."

Bev twisted around so she could inspect his handiwork. "I'm impressed." She pulled up her overalls, careful not to catch them on the bandage. "I have to admit, at first I thought you were a lecher when you offered, but you did a good job."

Mack thought it would probably be best not to tell her that he'd made the offer in good faith, but the execution had been less than pure. He set the cream on the countertop and picked up the towel. "Want me to finish off your wrist?"

Bev shrugged and held out her arm. "You're on a roll."

Even her narrow wrist was sexy, the way the bone curved under her skin, with the spatter of freckles across the back. Mack was thoroughly disgusted with how awake his lower body was. Good thing his pants were pleated, providing good camouflage. He was worse than an adolescent schoolboy.

"How's your dog?" Bev asked. Her head was bent so she could watch him work, her bangs tickling his ear. He was grateful for the distraction of her question about Janey.

"Janey's fine." Mack laid a gauze pad over the oozing wounds. "She's in the car."

"You should've brought her in."

"Nah. I can't stay." He set the other pad in place, then anchored them with some gauze. "Besides, I wasn't sure if she could catch anything if I brought her in."

"The dogs here don't have cooties. They're orphans, not disease-ridden scum." Her voice dropped about fifty degrees with that one comment.

Mack cursed under his breath. Good thing he wasn't trying to impress her, because he'd really be screwing things up if he was. "I just didn't know if you had the health records on all of 'em...you know, to make sure they're healthy."

She said nothing.

He cocked his head and eyed her. "You don't, do you?"

"Don't do the ace bandage so tight. I prefer circulation in my fingers."

Mack chuckled, sliding his fingers under the bandage, over her warm skin. "A little business advice for you. If you're going to evade a question, make it less obvious."

"I wasn't evading the question. I really do prefer circulation." Her voice was tight, her gaze fixed on his fingers as they moved under the bandage.

His gut tightening, Mack wiggled his fingers. "This is too tight? There seems to be enough room in there." He pushed his fingers further under the bandage, the heat from their intimate contact almost visible in the air. "It feels loose enough in the middle."

Bev flexed her hand, her tendons shifting under his fingers. "Yeah, I guess it's all right. My mistake."

Mack withdrew his fingers, lingering reluctantly before the final exit. "Guess you're good to go."

"Not bad. I like your style." At his lifted brow, she turned red. "I meant with the bandages. If you're ever bored, feel free to swing by and work your magic on some of my animals."

"Magic, huh?" Get a hold of yourself, Mack. She doesn't mean anything by it.

"Medical magic." She turned away, gathering up the supplies. "Thanks a lot for helping me. I would've had trouble with my leg."

"No problem." The problem would come when he tried to go to sleep tonight and couldn't stop thinking about her being half-naked in front of him.

Bev rinsed out the sponge. "So, why'd you come by? Or did you know I was about to get bitten?"

He chuckled and leaned against the counter. "Nope. Not psychic."

She put the extra gauze pads in the cabinet. "So, why? Did you find another property already?"

The laughter dissipated from Mack's throat, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. Never had doing his job felt so wrong. "Um... Actually..."

Bev stopped, the scissors hanging from her fingertips. "What?"

Why was he feeling guilty? He was doing his job, same as he'd been doing for years. It wasn't his position to be worrying about her, or the shelter. No reason to feel bad. Just say it. "I can't find another property."

Bev set the scissors down and braced herself on the counter, her dark eyes cloudy. "Meaning?"

"I'm meeting with Whittle tomorrow to recommend he buy the property. This property." He saw her tongue go to the side of her mouth, as if she were chewing on it. "I'm sorry, Bev."

She looked at him, pain etched in hard lines around her eyes. "I find it hard to believe there's no other property that would work for him."

Delivering the bad news was so much worse than he'd anticipated. Her innocent face was twisted in pain, and it was his fault. He cursed under his breath, but he couldn't give her the answer she wanted, the answer he wished he could give. "There's no other property." At least not in the time frame Whittle needed to work in.

"What do you want from me?"

"What do you mean?" He could think of several things he wanted from her, but none of them had anything to do with the property.

"For the property. What do you want?" Her eyes were cold now, the tendons in her neck visibly taut.

"Nothing. I'm going ahead with it." He saw her eyes flicker. "I'm not telling you this to get a concession from you. You're irrelevant." Her face darkened instantly, hurt leaping into the tense lines around her mouth and the furrow of her eyebrows. He cursed softly. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

"I see." She shoved the scissors in a drawer and slammed it shut. "That's it then, huh? You're going to tell Whittle to buy the property, and I'm irrelevant?"

He had to fix this. He couldn't let Bev hate him. "You're not irrelevant, Bev. Far from it. I only meant that I'm not trying to get anything from you in exchange for the property. You are separate from the property."

"Uh huh." She shoved the tape in another drawer, then whirled around to face him. "Did you look at all the animals out there? Did you?"

Mack gritted his teeth. "I saw them."

"And they don't matter to you? I thought you loved your dog."

"Bev, this isn't personal. This is my job. I have to do it." Why was he defending himself to her? He hadn't done anything wrong. There was no need for the guilt tearing through him. He'd actually done her a favor by stopping by. "I came by to warn you that you probably have ninety days, so you could start making alternate plans. I didn't have to do that, you know."

Bev clapped her hands to her chest. "Oh, you're so nice. You take my animals' home, but you're nice enough to warn me. Gosh, you could win the Humanitarian of the Year Award."

Her sarcasm sliced through Mack like a knife. Sweet, generous Bev, forced into meanness by his actions. Bev grimaced and touched his arm, sending sparks of awareness through him. "Listen, Mack, sorry about exploding at you. It's not right for me to be a jerk just because you are." At his raised eyebrow, her cheeks reddened. "I didn't mean that. Really. I become emotional when it comes to my animals. It might be business to you, but it's personal to me."

"I am sorry, Bev."

"But not sorry enough to do anything about it?"

"I can't." Lord knew, he wanted to. Not a good thing, putting a woman before work. He was getting his priorities mixed up. Work came first. Period. At least it always had before Bev and her animals. No, it still did. He just felt bad about it this time.

"Well, I guess that's it, then. I've got to go clean some cages." She surveyed him. "If you were really sorry, you could help me."

He glanced at his watch. "I've got to go." As it was, he was going to need his admin to stall his next meeting for ten minutes.

"Yeah, that suit doesn't really go too well with cleaning cages."

"You think I won't get dirty?"

Bev gave him a deliberate once-over, then nodded. "I think you pay people to get dirty for you."

He opened his mouth to defend himself, then decided not to. Today, she was right. He would pay someone to clean cages for him, but it wasn't always like that. And it wasn't because he was too good to clean. It was because he didn't have time. His free time was spent on work, not cleaning. Though the thought of spending the day with Bev, working with the animals sounded more than a little appealing. Which meant it was time to leave.

"I'll see you around." Bev turned away, causing a stab of regret in his stomach. He didn't want her to hate him.

A cheery female voice interrupted them. "Oh, Beverly. Where are you?"

The bartender from his party walked around the corner, followed by a man with her same nose and forehead, but about six inches taller. She stopped in the doorway upon seeing Mack, and the man behind her plowed straight into her, too busy looking at Bev to notice the woman had stopped.

"Oh, hello." The woman drew the last syllable of her greeting out, her eyebrows dancing. "What do we have here?"

"I'm Mack Spenser."

"And I'm Josie Harper. Your dad hired me to bartend at your party."

"I remember." He cocked his head, wondering at the likelihood that coincidence would have resulted in Bev's friend being the bartender at his party. He'd have to ask his dad how he ended up with Josie.

"This is my brother, Les," Josie added. The man next to Josie nodded, and Mack returned the silent greeting.

Josie leaned against the examining table and inspected Mack. "I never realized that a savior would be so handsome."

He cringed internally as Bev cleared her throat. "He's not a savior."

Josie narrowed her eyes. "You're still buying the place?"

"My client is. I'm recommending it." Though it was a small difference, he felt the need to defend himself to the extent he could. He lounged against the counter, giving the appearance of a man who didn't care.

Josie's eyes narrowed in disgusted condemnation. Mack met her gaze, accepting her blame.

"So, you came by to gloat?" Josie asked.

"I came by to warn her." He shot a look at Bev. "And apologize, not that my apology was accepted."

Bev pursed her lips and said nothing.

"I guess I'll see you around." He didn't want to leave with Bev mad at him, but he sensed his chance of redemption had disappeared with the appearance of Josie and her brother. They had moved into defensive positions on either side of Bev, as if they were ready to protect her from him. Didn't they realize that Bev didn't need protecting? She was plenty tough enough on her own.

He walked out the door, and no one stopped him. Which was fine. It was time to move on. He was definitely not going back there. Whether he could stop thinking about her was a whole different matter entirely.