His throat constricted. He couldn’t tell if she was flirting with him or taunting him, but it didn’t matter. Under no circumstances was he taking this woman to a seedy motel. If he was going to sneak off with her for a night worthy of an erotic novel, he’d take her somewhere private. Very private.

That thought almost floored him—and made him feel thoroughly ashamed of himself. If given an opportunity, he’d do exactly that. Forget his position. Forget his dog show. Forget his brother. All this woman had to do was say the word, and he’d happily toss every other consideration aside.

And, oh, how he’d enjoy himself in the process.

When he only stood there staring at her, doing his best not to imagine Ruby in connection with a motel—seedy or otherwise—she dropped the sultry pose.

“See what I mean?” she said. “You’re exactly like Wheezy. In the book, all the woman has to do is murmur the word and get an immediate response. But when I say it, nothing happens.”

On the contrary, there was plenty happening. Spencer felt her presence in ways that reverberated in every part of his body. Their practice didn’t get a lot of calls for the care of porcupines, but he’d never be able to go anywhere near one of them again without feeling this tight coil of desire and frustration. He wanted to throw caution to the wind, to accept the overture she was offering and whisk her into his arms, but he didn’t dare. She was only testing his boundaries, seeing how far she could push him before he cracked.

She didn’t know it, but he had the answer ready to go. This far. This was as far as she could push. The longer she stood there, holding herself just out of reach, the closer he was to breaking.

Fortunately for his state of self-preservation, she decided to end the challenge as quickly as it had begun.

“It’s too bad I can’t hire you to help me train Wheezy instead of your brother,” she said, turning both herself and Wheezy away. “You have all the makings of a great pageant coach.”

Considering how bitterly she’d discussed her own experiences with pageantry, he knew better than to take this as a compliment.

“I don’t train dogs,” he said, his mouth so dry the words felt stuck. “I only judge them.”

“And what do you do with women?” she asked. With a sigh, she shook her head and didn’t wait for his response. “Never mind. I already know the answer to that. You judge them, too.”

Chapter 7