Her skin was ashen, her eyes wide, her hand trembled under his where he still pressed it to his chest. Shock? Horror? Excitement? He had to know. "Bev? You there?"

"You're a lecher." She pulled her hands away from his and pushed at his shoulders.

"What? No, I'm not." Apparently, it had been horror, not the reaction he'd been expecting. She'd seemed to meld to his body, her breath shallow with what he thought was eager anticipation when he'd straddled her hips. What had he done wrong? Besides be himself. Maybe that was all he'd needed to do to turn her off.

"It's just like Les said. You're trying to get a cheap thrill before you destroy me." She began to squirm, trying to dislodge him from his perch across her hips. "Get off me."

Ah, he understood now. Time to step in. Mack caught her wrists and held her still, leaning toward her. "Bev."

She stopped struggling and squinted at him, her thick eyelashes shielding her eyes from his view. "What?"

"Les is wrong. Extremely, unforgivably wrong." When she opened her mouth to protest, he pressed his thumb to her lips, lips that were just as soft as he'd imagined. He took a deep breath, trying to control the excitement racing through him. "I want to kiss you because I simply haven't been able to stop thinking about you since you accosted me at my mom's birthday party. Because you looked so cute trying to yank that dress up higher, and you were so nice to my dog. And because your ponytail is perpetually crooked. That's why I want to kiss you."

Her cheeks flamed to an appealing pink, and her eyes held an aura of desperation as she searched his face. For what? The truth?

He couldn't stop himself now. The desire to kiss her was too strong, to feel her body against his, to hear his name mingle with her breath. He framed her face with his hands and lowered his head closer. "If you don't want me to kiss you, you'd better say something now."

"I don't want you to kiss me," she whispered.

He didn't believe her, not the way her hips were shifting under him, restlessly and impatiently. "Why not?"

"I mean, I want you to kiss me, but I don't." She caught her lower lip in her teeth and knitted her eyebrows. She poked him in the chest. "You'd break my heart, you know."

A prick of guilt stabbed at Mack. She was right about him. She expected and deserved complete love from her man, and he couldn't give that to her. Unable to follow his conscience and release her, he picked up one of her hands and played with her fingertips. "I'd only be able to break your heart if you gave it to me, but I'm not worthy so I'd hope you wouldn't."

She should listen to his warning, but a part of him wished she wouldn't, hoped she'd fall right in love with him instead.

No, he didn't. He definitely didn't want love anywhere near him. Definitely.

Bev sighed. "I was hoping you'd deny it, and tell me you were a nice guy."

"Does it have to matter?" He couldn't hold back any longer. He had to taste her, touch her, feel her against him. Mack leaned closer until his lips were only a breath from hers. "I want you, Bev. I can't help it."

"Mack." His name was a murmur on her breath, more enchanting than he'd imagined. That one little word swept away the final vestiges of his control.

He dropped his head, touching his lips to hers. Gently at first, exploring carefully, waiting for her response even as his body felt like it was catapulting through deep space. Her lips were so soft, quiet under his touch, careful and questioning. Her shyness slammed into his gut like a sledgehammer. Bev, innocent, trusting. His Bev. For now. For the moment. Incredible.

Delighted by her innocence, honored by her trust, Mack kept his kiss gentle, undemanding, yet promised more should she care to meet him. And when her hands slipped around his neck and her lips began to respond, passion reverberated through his body. His lower body burst into awareness, and Bev shifted beneath him, opening her denim-clad legs to wrap herself around him.

Groaning her name, Mack deepened the kiss, his breath catching when her tongue darted against his, testing, experimenting, exploring, growing more daring with each venture. He coaxed her with his lips, with his tongue, drew her out of her shell and into his. She grew bolder, deepening the kiss on her own, her hands tight around his neck, as if afraid to let him go.

Mack trailed his right hand down her cheek, his fingers drifting over the long lines of her neck, fingering the collar of her tee shirt, playing with the strap of her overalls. A delicate feminine sigh of eager anticipation echoed against his own breath, daring Mack to challenge her.

He flicked the straps of her overalls loose, first the right one, then the left one, nuzzling the crook of her neck while her fingers dove through his hair. She twisted under him, pulling him closer with her legs, tilting her head back to give him access to her neck. The freckles at the base of her throat were so sexy, and when he kissed them, he could taste her pureness.

When she released his head, he tensed, wondering if she was going to stop him. He waited while her hand trailed down the side of his face, her fingertips catching on his stubble. And then her hand dropped to the bib of her overalls, and she slipped her index finger into the little pocket. His gut tightening, Mack stared at her hand, waiting, wondering, hoping. An almost casual flip with her wrist and the bib was turned down, one barrier removed.

He whispered her name, tantalized by the swell of her breasts under her surprisingly snug tee shirt. Did Bev have a sexual side she hid beneath her baggy overalls? He glanced at her face, startled to see her watching him, a wary look on her face.

"You're beautiful," he said, gratified by the slow smile of awareness as it spread across her features.

"Really?"

He nodded, resting his hand on her breast. Bev jerked beneath him, her eyes widened for an instant. Then her lips curved in satisfaction and she dropped her head back, arching her back, stretching her hands over her head. An invitation, no doubt. He wondered whether it was a conscious move, but he suspected it was instinctive, a natural reaction to the surge of emotions racing through her body.

He spanned her narrow waist with his hands, flicking the bottom of her shirt with the edges of his thumbs. Bev arched more, stretching her arms above her head, her midriff peeking out.

Mack slid his hands under her shirt, in awe at the softness of her skin. He skimmed her ribs with his palms, taking the shirt with him. When she moved restlessly beneath him, he scooted down so he could kiss her stomach, trailing his lips over the quivering flesh.

His fingers reached the edge of her bra, and he caught his thumbs under the elastic, continuing to slide his hands upward. His palms reached the swells of her breasts, the flesh hot under his touch. Her nipples were erect, waiting for him, calling him.

Bev whimpered, her hips moving beneath him, rising toward him. Mack's body responded, pressing at the junction of her legs as he settled himself between her thighs. With his lips, he followed the path of his hands. Across her ribs, to the bottom edge of her breasts, over the mound of flesh being anchored by his kneading hands, to the peak, where he stopped and tightened his lips around her, teasing with his tongue, each flick causing Bev to jerk underneath him.

His suit felt so constricting, too much material, too many layers. He wanted to feel Bev's skin against his chest, feel her bare thighs against his, feel her core wrap around him. "I want you," he whispered. "You're so perfect."

She tensed under him, and Mack immediately lifted his head. "What's wrong?"

Her eyes were still foggy, her cheeks flushed, but she was looking at him. Her eyebrows were knitted in concern and her eyes began to appear wary as the fog cleared. Regret sliced through Mack, and he stilled his hands on her breasts. "Talk to me, Bev."

"We have to stop." She was breathless, her voice low.

"Stop?" He pulled back instantly, startled by her request. "Shit. Sorry." What the hell had he done to make her pull back? Mack took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. Releasing her breasts, he pulled her shirt over them, though he could do nothing about his own erection pressing against her. "What did I do?"

"Nothing." She let go of him and propped herself up on her elbows. "I can't do this."

He knew she meant it. Crap. What had he done? He rolled off her instantly and collapsed on his back beside her, trying to regain control. He took a deep breath. "Okay."

For a long moment, she didn't answer. Silence, then… "Okay?" She sounded confused. "Don't you want to keep going?"

Mack lifted his head at the hurt in her voice. "Do you really need to ask that?"

Bev's gaze darted to the front of his pants, and she blushed. "I guess not." She took a deep breath and pulled Mac onto her lap. "Listen, Mack, I really thought I could go through with this. I mean, I want to. I'm totally attracted to you, but I know it's just sex to you. You say you want me, but it's just my body you want. I can't be with a man who doesn't care about me, who could never care about me."

Mack flopped back down and closed his eyes. If only she knew how much he already cared, how he was hating work because it was hurting her. But Bev was right. In the long term, he couldn't give her what she wanted. Love, commitment, a family. "I do care about you, Bev."

When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "Are you still going through with the shelter property?"

He cringed. "Yes."

She sighed and rolled away from him, sitting up on the far edge of the fleece bed. "That's what I thought."

He propped himself up on his elbow. "Bev, this has nothing to do with Whittle."

When she looked at him, her eyes were full of pain. Of distrust. "How can you say that? It's all the same."

Mack sat up too, choosing his words carefully, trying to make her understand. "How I feel about you on a personal level has nothing to do with my business decisions. What happened between us tonight can't change what I have to do for my client." Though he wished like hell that it could, that he could just walk away from Whittle. But for Bev, he'd have to walk away from his career and his eighty-five-hour work weeks. He couldn't do that, not even for her.

Bev stood up. "In my world, if you care about someone, then that's all there is to it. You don't destroy someone you care about, no matter what."

"I'm not destroying you! I already told you that I'd help you find other options. Hell, I can help finance it." He ran his hand through his hair, frustrated by the pain in her eyes. Instead of alleviating it, all he seemed capable of doing was making it worse. Even if he couldn't love her, he wanted her to understand he cared about her and her plight. He wasn't heartless and cold.

"That's it? That's your big gesture to make me sleep with you? That you'll toss a few bucks my way afterwards?"

Shit. When she said it like that, it sounded worse than awful. When he'd thought it, it had sounded good. He'd thought it made sense. But clearly, he was wrong.

She sighed. "Don't get me wrong, Mack, you're nicer than I thought you'd be. But I need someone who thinks I'm more important than his job."

He had no rebuttal. He was putting his job in front of her shelter, a shelter that she believed in.

She rubbed her cheek on Mac's head, smiling sadly when he licked her cheek. "I'm better off with someone like Les who will put me first."

"Les? The guy I met in your first aid room? That Les?" Jealousy clawed at Mack's gut, tore at his heart. "He's an idiot."

Bev lifted her chin. "He would never destroy my world."

"Because he's too weak and pathetic to accomplish anything—" He cut himself off instantly at Bev's raised brows. Oh…wow. Had that really just come out of his mouth? Since when did he judge other people? He didn't. He'd been at the bottom of every proverbial totem pole at some point in his life, and he knew how easy it was to go back there.

Jealousy. Son of a bitch. He was jealous. He'd never been jealous of any guy in his life. No woman had mattered that much to him, and he'd never invested in any enough to care. But the way his gut was clenching at the idea of Bev dating Les told him all he needed to know: he was jealous as hell, over a woman he'd just met, kissed once, and wrecked her dreams.

He had no right to kiss her. He had no right to stand in her way of finding a guy that was better than him, which wouldn't be that hard. He was already in too deep. He needed to get out, and get out now. So, he took a deep breath, and forced words that sank like a stone in his gut as he said them. "Listen. You can go out with whoever you want. I won't kiss you again."

She blinked. "You won't? I mean, darn right you won't. And I'm going out with Les."

He straightened his tie, stalling for time while he tried to get his jealousy under control. Never show weakness, was his motto. Actually, his motto was not to have a weakness in the first place, but apparently, he'd messed up there, because he was pretty sure that jealousy counted as a major weakness. Obviously, kissing her had been the wrong approach. Next plan: forget about the body that was hidden under those baggy overalls, and definitely don't think about Les.

Both were impossible. Clearly, it was time to leave.

But he didn't stand up. He opened his mouth instead. "So, do you want my help finding other options for Give a Dog a Bone? The offer's still on the table." Seriously? He'd offered again? How exactly did that go along with his plan to get up, walk out, and forget about her? He wasn't a guy to deviate from his plans. Ever. And yet, around Bev, he couldn't even think straight.

She simply couldn't be that irresistible.

But she was.

Bev lifted her chin, and shook her head, clearly not feeling the same all-consuming level of attraction and need that had made his entire way of living start to crumble. "No, thanks," she said, declining his offer. "I'll find a way to bring Whittle down on my own."

He shrugged, deciding not to point out that his offer had been to find other solutions, not destroy his client. He was a workaholic, money-obsessed, corporate bastard, and destroying his client and his career wasn't an option for him. "Fine. But you should focus on finding other options, because Whittle isn't going to stand down." He paused, debating whether to tell her that her EPA declaration had killed any chance he might have had to redirect Whittle, but he didn't. He simply couldn't bring himself to shut down her fierceness. Instead, he said merely, "You've only got ninety days, so I wouldn't waste time on dead ends."

"Les will have ideas. I don't need your help."

The mention of Les made his eyes cross, but he ground his teeth, reminding himself he had no claim on her. "Great. Best of luck." He stood up and started to walk out of the pen, then thought of that dim bulb providing insufficient light for the parking lot. "Are you leaving now?"

"I suppose so." Bev picked up her laptop and hugged it to her chest, as if she was using it to protect herself from him, which he deserved.

Right now, he felt like a complete monster, and he didn't understand it. He was doing what he did to make sure that no one he loved ever died when they didn't have to. That was it. No other reason. That truth had always enabled him to do what he had to do, to work as many hours as necessary, to deal with clients he didn't like. It had always been enough…until now. Until Bev. Until this shelter.

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you okay?"

He cleared his throat. "Fine. I'm fine." He held open the door to the pen. "I'll walk you. The parking lot is dark. Get your stuff." He might not have a right to care who she kissed, and he might be unable to be the man she made him want to be, but he was at least going to make sure she got home okay.

She scowled at his autocratic command, but didn't resist. She snapped her fingers, and Mac jumped into her arms. Janey followed him cheerfully, and they waited while Bev made sure the beagle was comfortable.

There was no conversation between them, even as they walked the passageways back to the front.

It wasn't until Bev and Mac were safely in her car, with the engine running, that she finally spoke. "You'll hear from me," Bev said. "I'm not giving up."

Her spunk made him grin, and he couldn't hide the relief. He realized a part of him wanted her to win. To take down Whittle in a way that he couldn't do. Bev was a fighter, a woman who would challenge him every day for the rest of his life if they were married.

He blinked.

What? Married? Whoa. Forget that thought. He cleared his throat, trying not to pass out from shock at the thoughts running around in his brain. "I figured you wouldn't give up. Try not to do anything illegal. Whittle will press charges." He had to at least warn her about that. "He's not a nice guy."

She raised her brows. "He's not going to press anything against me, or anything I care about."

Mack tried not to think about what he would like to press against her.