Taken by Storm. HEATHER MACALLISTER

      Cam looked up at her, eyebrows raised in a question.

      “Casper is my sister’s dog.”

      He nodded to the crate. “Is she Ryka?”

      “No, that’s the name of my sister and brother-in-law’s kennel. Ryan and Kate. Ryka. They raise and show Afghan hounds.”

      “So that explains the hairstyle and the outfit.”

      “Oh, yes.” Zoey couldn’t prevent a sigh from escaping. “It’s supposed to keep his hair clean and from getting tangled and matted. You ought to see him when he’s all dolled up for a show. Really gorgeous. Though talk about high maintenance.” She examined one of Casper’s paws. “Look. Even with the booties, the slush outside has stained the hair around his feet.”

      “That’s a given with this floor.” Cam stared down at the dog and gave his tummy a final pat. “I hope it was okay to take off his coat. It was wet.”

      “Oh, absolutely. Thank you.” She made a face and dug in her pocket for the wet, dirty booties. “This outfit wasn’t meant to withstand blizzards. I can’t believe there isn’t a designated pet relief area near this terminal. I mean, this is O’Hare.” She gestured around them. “I had to take him across the street. At least there wasn’t any traffic.”

      Cam looped his arms around his knees. “It’s bad out there?”

      “It’s unreal. How do people live in this weather?” Zoey got up and laid the booties on top of the crate where Cam had draped the wet dog coat. Very thoughtful.

      She slid a glance toward him. He still sat by Casper, apparently not in a hurry to go anywhere, and her lingering guilt about thrusting Casper on him evaporated.

      “Doesn’t it snow in Virginia?” he asked as Casper came over to the crate and nosed at the empty water container.

      “Maybe, but I live in Texas near Austin, and snow isn’t something I see a whole lot of.” Zoey wasn’t thrilled about giving Casper water—what went in was going to come out.

      As she opened the spout on Casper’s water dispenser, Cam said, “Hey, I live in San Marcos.”

      Zoey glanced over at him in time to catch a surprisingly wide smile bracketed by a couple of killer dimples she hadn’t noticed before. Not that she was a dimple person. Or hadn’t been in the past. She might be one now. A couple of beats went by, during which Casper’s dish filled with more water than Zoey had intended. She closed the spigot as Casper lapped greedily. “I’m in Round Rock.”

      “Just a few miles up the road.” Still smiling, he shook his head. “What are the chances?”

      Zoey looked around at the people waiting in line and hanging out by the exit watching the snow. “Judging by all the A&M, UT and Texas Tech shirts, the chances are pretty good.”

      “It’s the timing,” he said. “The flights from Texas were some of the last allowed to land before they closed the airport.”

      “My connecting flight originated in Richmond. Not that it’s doing me any favors now.”

      Zoey could feel him watching her. She wanted to be flattered, but under normal circumstances, she had to make a real effort to attract the attention of upper-tier lookers like Cam. Maybe she’d been going about it all wrong. Maybe all she needed to do to turn a man’s head was appear travel-rumpled and fling a dog at him.

      “Where are you headed?” he asked.

      “Seattle.”

      “The 1:40 United Flight?”

      “Yes. Well, originally.” She glanced up and their gazes caught and held.

      “Me, too,” he said softly.

      She couldn’t look away, even though she knew she was sending signals she had no business sending. He sat still and unblinking, his eyes never leaving hers. They were cool blue with a hot message.

      As awareness prickled through her, Zoey reminded herself to breathe. She exhaled and forced herself to move her eyes to the dog. Wow. That was intense.

      She had to blink a few times before Casper came into focus. He’d finished slurping the water and now waited expectantly. Food. He wanted food. Zoey didn’t have that much with her. The rest of his special not-available-commercially blend was taking up a lot of space in her suitcase. She gave him a few bits from what she had in her bag. He looked at it and then back up at her. She gave him a little more. “That’s all for now, Casper. I have no idea how long we’re going to be stuck here.”

      “I hear that.” Cam got to his feet and brushed his hands together. “Which reminds me, I should find out where they’re storing the box I checked.” He indicated the door where the airline workers loaded and unloaded animals and perishables. “I thought I’d try the cargo guys before standing in line.”

      “Good plan, and thanks for helping with Casper,” Zoey told him.

      “No problem.” His eyes met hers. There was that intensity again, followed by a hyperawareness of him that caused a hitch in her breathing.

      Impulsively, she asked, “Have we met? I mean, before?” Maybe that would explain it.

      He started to say something and stopped.

      “What?”

      “I was going to say I would have remembered you, but that sounds like a line.”

      “Well, I know I would have remembered you,” Zoey said. Again, impulsively. And embarrassingly. Feeling her face heat, she gestured vaguely. “Your smile. It’s killer.”

      “Yeah?” He smiled his killer smile.

      Oh, yeah.

      “Still, there’s something...” His eyes traced her face and Zoey willed her blush to fade. Maybe he’d think it was windburn. “Did you go to Texas State?” he asked.

      She shook her head. “UT. Maybe we just saw each other in a crowd somewhere. Do you ever go to Dasko’s?”

      “No. I’ve wanted to, but I’m usually working weekends.”

      “Where?”

      “MacNeil’s Brewery.”

      “Right! It’s outside San Marcos. I’ve been there.”

      His face lit up. “One of the Saturday tours?”

      Zoey laughed. “More than one. In fact, I helped my friend Pam throw a birthday party for her husband there.”

      “Yeah?” His dimples deepened. Wow. When had dimples become sexy? “I’m the one who handles the event scheduling.”

      “Maybe we spoke on the phone!” The idea made her absurdly pleased.

      “When was the party?” Cam asked.

      “Oh, it’s been a while. A couple of summers ago. I don’t think the brewery had been open all that long.”

      “Then I definitely would have been manning the taps.”

      “Really?” Zoey could feel herself grinning, but then, so was he. For the first time in a long while—and for the first time in years with a guy who didn’t have a J name—she experienced that glorious, fizzy euphoria of first attraction when you’re sure the other person is experiencing the same thing.

      “Do you remember the date?” Cam asked.

      “No, but it was in July. It was a Harley-themed party because Pam was giving her husband a motorcycle. She wanted it to be a surprise, which meant we had to get it there. Neither of us had ever driven a motorcycle before, so we took turns driving it while the other followed in the car.” Zoey laughed. “You should have seen us!”

      She assumed he’d laugh with her, and he did, but the fizz had gone flat. “Then