CHAPTERONE
The oyster hors d’oeuvres smelled, my tweed pencil skirt itched like a burlap torture device, and my fancy up-do was now a half-falling-down-do. I was in such a hurry to get my prized box of seafood-themed treats into my apartment that I turned my ankle just before I reached my front door. Isowasn’t a high heels kind of gal.
I sucked in a sharp breath as I fumbled my keys and almost dropped the appetizers. They may have been prepared by a lowly grocery store deli, but I couldn’t afford to buy another overpriced box of them.
In my experience, the more disgusting a food looked, the more it cost. And one look at the stuff in that box made me want to hurl. So, you can imagine my sticker shock when I saw just how much it was going to cost to impress my rich grandmother that afternoon.
But it was worth it. My future depended on impressing her.
I stood in the breezeway of my five-story apartment building and jumped when a large dog barked behind me. I spun around, getting my canvas shoulder bag caught in the potted cactus that guarded my door, but there wasn’t a dog in sight—only my neighbor’s closed door facing mine a couple paces away.
I kept my eyes on Cash Walker’s door as I tried to free my bag from the cactus’s long barbs. The barking was definitely coming from his place, but that soundwasn’tthe incessant yapping of the dachshund he’d shared his home with for the past month.
No. There was a fur-covered animal behind that door that sounded big enough to eat wiener dogs for breakfast.
What was Cash fostering this time, a barking moose?
Most women would probably love to live across the open-air hall from a man with perfect looks, a steady job, and a soft spot for animals.
But I’m not most women.
I’d be lying if I said Cash wasn’t knee-wobblingly gorgeous with his sandy-brown hair and moody hazel eyes. But he knew he was a looker andthatmade him insufferable.
Every woman who’s ever lived has met his type. The type who goes around strutting his stuff, turning on the smolder, and making eyes at any woman with a pulse. All the while expecting waves of sighs and giggles to follow in the wake of his so-called irresistible masculinity.
Gag!
The man was a player—and I didn’tplaywith players anymore. I had a trail of broken-heart-inducing relationships a mile long to prove I’d wasted enough time on guys like Cash.
Lucky me, I had better things to do with my time these days. Things like showing my East Coast grandmother that I was worthy to be entrusted with the money she promised me when I was a kid.
Cash’s doorknob turned, and the door started to open.
I froze.
My stomach clenched, and I braced myself for the worst when a shiny black nose snuffled at the crack of the door. I gave up on freeing my bag from the cactus, all my focus shifting to protecting my vitals.
Cash was obsessed with rescuing dogs. Little dogs, big dogs—and from the size of that moist snoot gathering my scent, he also took inhugedogs. His love of K-9s was another reason my neighbor and I would never see eye to eye. Getting bitten by a dog at the tender age of five years old has a way of souring a person’s perspective onman’sbest friend.
I took a quick inventory of my current situation as my life flashed before my eyes. I was stuck to my cactus, holding a box of hors d’oeuvres in my open palm like an off-balance waitress, and was still locked out of my apartment.
Add to that the fact that I was mere moments away from potentially being mauled by Cash’s latest foster dog, and this was starting to look like a pretty typical day in the life of Willow Lennox, your friendly neighborhood screw-up.
Cash’s door flung open, and he stepped out with a beast of a dog on a short leash; thank Heaven for small mercies.
His black fur was thick around the shoulders and stuck out in tufts on the backs of his legs. His bushy tail swung from side to side as he tugged toward me.
Now I knew what a deer must feel like the moment before it’s eaten alive by a lone wolf!
Cash’s eyes widened when our gaze met. I stomped out the flutters in my stomach. There was no way I’d allow a flight of rogue butterflies to respond like that to the white tee clinging to his toned chest and arms. I was immune to his wiles. So what if I had to remind myself of that little fact more often than I’d like? The truth was the truth even if it had to be repeated daily like some sort of anti-love potion mantra.
I was immune!
Besides, I barely had time to enjoy the view with that panting dog bearing down on me.
“Whoa,” Cash said, “who are you and what have you done with my neighbor?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I swallowed my nerves and used my best aloof voice as I resisted the urge to scratch my hind end—this skirt was seriously giving me a rash in all the worst places.
