Taken by Storm. HEATHER MACALLISTER

murmured. There. Finesse. His voice hadn’t cracked or anything. He was especially pleased that he hadn’t grabbed her and planted his mouth on her lips, lips that were clearly made for kissing. Generous. Wide. Not too pillowy.

      “I’ve got to ask you another favor,” she burst out.

      “Okay.” He tried to avoid appearing overeager.

      “I—” She stopped and exhaled. “Casper won’t get in his crate and I’ve got to go to the restroom. Would you please watch him for me?”

      “Sure.” Cam allowed himself a smile and glanced down at the dog. I owe you, buddy.

      “Oh, thank you!” She shoved the leash at him. “I’ll be just a minute!” And she hurried toward the restrooms.

      Cam watched her go, her hair rippling. She had great hair—straight, long and glossy. He wanted to run his fingers through it. He wanted to feel it against his bare skin. He wanted to lie back in bed and have it curtain their faces as she leaned down to kiss him.

      He heard a frustrated sound, and at first he thought it had escaped him. But then he realized it had come from the dog, who was staring down its long nose at him, as though he could read Cam’s mind.

      “Hey, Casper,” he said. “How’s it going, buddy?”

      With a tiny whine, Casper sat down.

      “I hear ya.” Cam looked in the direction of the restrooms. As was typical, the women’s had a line and Ryka, or whatever her name was, hadn’t made it around the corner yet.

      “What say we walk over to your crate?” Cam said. The backpack was still lying on the floor next to it.

      He started walking and the dog followed him, which was good because he didn’t want to have to drag the animal across the floor.

      Once they got to the crate, Cam sat on the floor again, and the dog flopped beside him, head on his paws. Another little whine escaped.

      Cam reached out to pat him. “Hey, this thing she’s got you wearing is all wet.”

      She couldn’t want her dog to stay in wet clothes. He took off the blue bonnet. “Oh, buddy. I thought the hat was bad.”

      Casper’s fur was white, as Cam might have guessed from his name. But the hair on his head and ears was gathered in blue elastic holders. Probably to keep it out of the way. Cam scratched Casper all over his head, and if the dog had been a cat, he would have purred.

      Another glance toward the women’s restroom revealed that Ryka had only just made it to the corner beneath the sign.

      “Okay, buddy. Let’s get this off you.” Slowly, Cam reached around the dog’s stomach, seeking the straps. Casper obligingly rolled onto his side. Cam unhooked the clasps and peeled off the wet coat, releasing the aroma of wet dog and something sweet—doggy shampoo?

      Casper panted.

      The rest of his hair was also bunched with blue bands, but Cam could see there was a lot of hair and it was all white. And damp. Unfortunately, the baggage terminal floor wasn’t very clean, with people tracking in the wet sludge from outside. Occasionally, the maintenance crew came by with mops, and earlier they’d placed black rubber mats by the exit, along with yellow tented caution signs.

      Cam draped Casper’s outfit over the crate to dry out and gently petted him, scratching between the ponytail bunches.

      “Does that feel good, boy?”

      Casper licked his mouth and resumed panting.

      “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” Cam liked dogs, although he didn’t own one. If he did, he’d never pick this breed. Too much hair.

      Casper twitched and rolled over onto his back, curving himself into an S shape.

      “You want a tummy rub.” Cam used both hands. “This must mean you’ve warmed up to me. Now let’s see if we can get your owner to warm up to me, too.”

      3

      SHE HADN’T EVEN asked his name. Zoey had left Casper, Ryka’s great white hope, with a man she knew nothing about. Except that he had a way of staring at her as though she was an ice cream cone and he wanted to lick her all over. She melted at the idea.

      He sure was a hottie but a little intense. And she trusted him based on that? Desperate times and so on.

      Zoey leaned against the cold tile walls as the restroom line inched forward. The longer the delay in Chicago, the greater the chance for failure.

      Stop thinking that way. She hadn’t veered from Kate’s plan. This was just a pause. But if the “pause” went on for much longer, she’d have to call her sister. And she really didn’t want to do that.

      Finger-combing her hair at the mirrors before leaving the restroom, Zoey noticed a whole lot of dehydrated skin on the faces of the other women. Drink water, she wanted to tell them. Or maybe offer them some of her Skin Garden Rain balm. But she didn’t, not with those grumpy expressions.

      Speaking of water, Zoey swallowed a long drink from the fountain before heading back to the pet area. The line at the restroom had moved slower than she’d anticipated, and she felt uneasy that she’d abandoned Casper for so long. Zoey hadn’t even asked the man if he had time to watch Casper before thrusting the leash at him. Obviously, he didn’t have a flight to catch, but maybe he had some place to be or someone to be with. He certainly wasn’t going anywhere outside the airport. She shuddered at the memory of the snow and the wind that had made her cheeks sting even though she’d slathered them with her lemon-olive moisturizing bar. It was the heaviest of her heavy-duty moisturizers, and it was travel friendly because it was a solid. It was a good thing she was testing her products on this trip because she’d discovered the bar was an awkward size and had melted into the container. That would have to be changed.

      Zoey rounded the corner, eyes searching out man and dog. She found Casper, undressed, splayed bonelessly on the floor, getting a tummy rub.

      Zoey had never seen the neurotic animal so relaxed. The man’s hands moved over the pink belly with long, slow strokes, stopping occasionally to rub some spot with his thumbs. Very thorough. Great attention to detail. Knew to take it slow. Zoey sighed.

      He also had a head of lush, dark hair in great-looking condition. It contrasted with Casper’s snowy coat, especially when the man bent to murmur something to the dog. Like now.

      Wow. Casper trusted him, and Casper didn’t trust anybody without a dog treat or a blue ribbon.

      The man didn’t look up until Zoey was nearly on top of them, and then he smiled and continued petting the dog. Zoey felt a quiver in her own belly and sank to the floor beside them. “I really appreciate you watching Casper. I don’t even know your name.” Please don’t let it begin with a J. “I’m Zoey.” She reached over Casper and offered her hand.

      “Zoey.” He smiled as he said her name. “Cam.”

      She was irrationally relieved that his name didn’t, in fact, begin with a J. Then he grasped her hand and she got a jolt of awareness. Or it could have been static electricity. They both started at the sensation, but he didn’t let go.

      “So that’s what they mean when they say ‘sparks flew between them.’” He gazed deep into her eyes as he smiled and held her hand. Tingles that had nothing to do with static electricity raced up her arm.

      Talk about a connection.

      There was something about him that made Zoey feel as if she could bundle up her mess of a life and toss it at him, and he’d fix it. Not that she wanted him, or any man—or woman, or parent, or sister—fixing her life for her. She needed to do that all by herself. Then when she finally did succeed at something, it would be her success, achieved on her own, and everyone else would know it.

      Casper raised his head and nosed their clasped hands. There was nothing like