Steve went with what he had and put a protective arm around Daisy, drawing her even closer. “Very nice. How were the ribs?”

“Oh, man, the ribs were great.”

Daisy felt a thrill race all the way to her toes. Her skin felt scalded where it pressed against Steve Crow. Too bad it was just an innocent scrunching together, she thought. It had been way too long since she’d felt like this about a man. Actually, it had been never.

“So what’s with the dog?” Steve asked Kevin. “He a friend of yours?”

Kevin’s eyes bulged. “I opened the back door to take out the garbage, and he lunged at me!”

“It’s only Fang,” Daisy said. “He belongs to Emily Atkinson, two doors down. I don’t have a dog so I use him to test my new recipes. Sometimes when he’s hungry he finds ingenious ways of getting into my backyard—like digging under the privacy fence.”

“I’m telling you, that dog’s a killer!” Kevin said.

Daisy leaned forward a little and looked at Fang. “He’s just a puppy. He hasn’t learned manners yet. He starts obedience school next week.”

Kevin wasn’t convinced. “I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”

“You’re going to have to get used to him,” Daisy said. “He’s the only dog in the whole subdivision. I promised my publisher a sequel to Bones for Bowser, and Fang is my guinea pig.”

Steve leaned forward, pretending to look at Fang, but actually finding an excuse not to lose body contact with Daisy. She felt good tucked back against his chest—too good to let go. He looked at Fang and had a stroke of genius. He rested his cheek against Daisy’s blond curls and lied to her. “You could use my dog.”

His voice was low and raspy, whispering through the loose tendrils that had escaped the comb and curled around her ear, and it took her a moment to realize he hadn’t said something seductive. She turned to face him and was intrigued by the amused curve to his lips—as if he’d done something very clever and was enormously pleased with himself.

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” she said.

“Yup. I’ve got one.”

“What’s his name?”

Steve stared at her for a full minute. “Bob.”

Fang circled the car, snuffled into the window one last time, and left. Everyone watched while he walked down the street and scratched at his door to be let in. Emily Atkinson opened the door and shook her finger at him. A moment later, she dragged him in by his collar.

“Bob would be a real challenge,” Steve said. “He’s very finicky.”

“What kind of dog is he?” Daisy wanted to know.