Even as she fought for the breath to scream, an enormous tongue rolled out and slurped her face.

“Moe! Stop, heel, get the hell off! Jeez. Jesus, I’m sorry.”

Malory heard the voice, the light panic in it, as she gagged and turned her head to try to avoid the tongue. Abruptly, the huge black mass pinning her down grew arms. Then a second head.

This one was human, a great deal more attractive than the first, despite the sunglasses that slid down a sharp, straight nose and the grim set to the mouth.

“Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

He shoved the massive weight away, then squeezed his body between them, like a defensive wall. “Can you sit up?”

The question was moot, as he was already pulling her from her ungainly sprawl to a sitting position. The dog tried to nose in but was elbowed back. “You lie down, you big sloppy idiot. Not you,” he added with a quick, charming grin as he brushed Malory’s hair back from her face. “I’m sorry. He’s harmless, just clumsy and stupid.”

“What . . . what is it?”

“Moe’s a dog, or that’s the rumor. We think he’s a cross between a cocker spaniel and a woolly mammoth. I’m really sorry. My fault. I wasn’t paying enough attention, and he got away from me.”

She slid her gaze to the right, where the dog, if it was a dog, was hunkered down, thumping a tail as thick as her arm and looking as innocent as anything that homely could manage.

“You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

“I don’t think so.” She found Moe’s owner staring at her with a quiet intensity that made heat rush over her skin. “What?”

She was as pretty as a bakery-shop pastry. All that tumbled blond hair, the top-cream skin, the rosy, bottom-heavy mouth that was in a sexy little sulk. Her eyes were big, blue, and beautiful, despite the temper flames shooting out of them.

He nearly licked his lips when she scowled at him and lifted her hand to shove it through that terrific tangle of hair. “What are you staring at?”

“Just making sure you don’t have little X’s in your eyes. You went down pretty hard. Great eyes, by the way. I’m Flynn.”

“And I’m tired of sitting on the sidewalk. Do you mind?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He stood, took both her hands in both of his, and pulled her to her feet.

He was taller than she’d realized, and she automatically stepped back so she didn’t have to tip her face up to keep an eye on him. The sun was streaming over his hair—a lot of thick, wavy brown hair with hints of chestnut. His hands were still clasping hers, firmly enough that she felt the ridge of callus on them.

“You sure you’re all right? Steady? You went down pretty hard.”

“I’m aware of that.” Painfully aware in the portion of her anatomy that had hit the sidewalk first. She crouched and began gathering what had spilled out of the box.