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, however, 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 going 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.

"No, I don't suppose it would," Bev sighed. "You know, when I first met your dog, I thought for sure you'd turn out to be a good guy."

"But you've changed your mind?" He didn't even know why he'd asked. Why did he care what Bev thought of him? Not that it mattered. He cared, for whatever reason. There was no use in trying to deny it any longer.

"Well, unless you've killed your dog, I guess that's one redeeming quality that you still have." She waggled her finger in his face, the twinkle in her eye softening her words. "It's not enough, though. You're still too selfish to be likable, or even trustworthy."

"Spenser!" Whittle's bellow bounced off the cement floors, setting off a rousing chorus of barks and howls.

Mack touched her cheek, grimacing when she jerked away. Not that he'd expected a woman like her to be interested in him, but it didn't feel any better to have it reinforced. She was caring, warm, and devoted to causes bigger than herself, a woman who would see through a man like him, a man who lived for his job, a man who couldn't embrace life and love the way she could. No doubt, he would never have a chance with a woman like Bev. "I'm impressed with you, Bev. You'll end up a success."

"End up a success? Meaning I'm a loser now, stuck running my pathetic little shelter? But maybe someday I can hope to wear a suit like yours and trade political jokes over cocktails?"

"You're not a loser, Bev. But do you really want to do this for the rest of your life? Clean out cages every day?"

She lifted her chin. "You want to know what I want to do, Mr. Bigtime Business Consultant?"

"Yes, I do." To his surprise, he realized he really did.

"I want to pay someone else to clean the cages while I spend all day finding good homes for the wonderful animals that come to my shelter."

He felt humbled. "What about money?"

"All I need is enough money so I don't have to work a second job anymore, so I never have to worry about paying my bills or being able to take care of my animals. I don't need any more money than that."

"Spoken like a woman who's never had a major financial crisis." Mack kept his voice quiet, trying to keep his pain at bay. Heaven forbid Bev would ever have her radiance dimmed by a tragedy like the one which still haunted him.

"And what exactly do you think I'm facing at this very moment, thanks to you?"

"It's not the same."

"It's not the same as what?" As if she sensed his pain, the accusation and defensiveness vanished from her voice, replaced by concern and empathy.

Warmth tumbled over him, and he stepped back. "What if you had a major medical crisis and you couldn't pay those bills? So you were going to die, merely because you didn't have enough money?"

Her forehead furrowed, creating a divot between her delicate eyebrows. "That's what health insurance is for, isn't it?"

"Not experimental treatment." Mack could taste the bitterness in the back of his throat.

"Spenser!" The canines barked at Whittle's bellow, the din reverberating in Mack's head as the familiar pain brought a lump to his throat.

"What are you talking about?" She touched his arm, her fingers resting lightly on the sleeve of his suit. "Are you okay?"

He tensed at his sudden urge to unburden himself to her, to tell her what he never talked about with anyone. "I've got to go. I'll see you around."

She pursed her lips, as if she wanted to pry but didn't dare. Mack jerked his head in farewell, then strode down the hall toward the exit. What was his deal? He never talked about his past, so why had he brought it up with her? It wasn't as if he wanted her to know why he was the way he was. Definitely not. It was just the guilt making him do strange things. He'd go back to his office, bury himself in his work, and forget about her and how she and her dogs tore at his gut.