“Dammit, Wheezy!” Ruby swooped down to prevent him from lying down. “Help me, Spencer. If he hits the floor, I’ll never get him back up again.”

Spencer did as he was asked—and not because of the pleading note in Ruby’s voice or the look she cast up at him, as if he alone was capable of coming to her rescue. It was just that he had to be out of here by eight o’clock, and Wheezy was already on his feet. That was half the battle right there.

It worked, too. With only a negligible amount of coaxing and references to his favorite condiment, Wheezy allowed himself to be led across the gym and out a side door. In true Seattle fashion, the evening had grown rainy and overcast, but even the sharp tang of ozone and a twenty-degree drop in temperature didn’t send the golden retriever running back indoors.

“Someone’s trained this animal,” Spencer said as the dog parked himself obligingly at his feet. “This performance isn’t random. Wheezy is responding to commands.” He thought of the way Wheezy had dropped at the sound of Ruby’s voice and amended, “He’s responding to my commands, anyway.”

“Yes, well, that’s how danger words work, isn’t it?”

Spencer wasn’t so entrenched in the world of erotic literature that he could make the immediate connection. Ruby was quick to enlighten him.

“It’s not the word that gets the engine running,” she explained. “It’s the person saying it. A porcupine is just a porcupine until it crosses the right lips. Your lips, in this instance.”

Spencer’s mouth went dry, but he refused to allow himself to read anything into the remark. He didn’t have any magical powers over the dog, and he definitely didn’t have any over the woman.

“Try it and see what happens,” she said. When he could do no more than stand there goggling at her, she added, “Or do you need me to show you how it’s done?”

Spencer tried to shake his head, but he was having a hard time remembering how his muscles worked.

“That’s a lovely porcupine you have there, Spencer,” she cooed. The smile that played about her lips was full of danger—and temptation. Temptation most of all.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t think that’s the correct context.”

“So big and ferocious.”

He put on his best stern-veterinarian voice and tried again. “Porcupines are quite docile as a species. It’s a common misconception. They only attack when they feel threatened.”

His best stern-veterinarian voice didn’t work. Ruby clucked her tongue and jutted out one deliciously rounded hip. “Do you feel threatened by me, Spencer? You shouldn’t be. I promise I’m also quite docile—until I feel threatened, that is.”