“Wouldn’t it be rude for me to be late?”

“Well—”

“And don’t you hate rude people?”

She sniffed a little. “Touché, Monsieur Bear-cat.”

“Do not start calling me that.”

“I think it’s cute!”

“No.”

“Whatever. So when was the last time you went on vacation?”

“Vacation?”

“You know? To someplace relaxing and fun, where work has nothing to do with it?”

“When?”

“Yeah. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

“Never.”

Blayne moved in front of him. “What do you mean never? You’ve never been on vacation? Ever?”

“That’s often what never means. But I travel a lot for business meetings and stuff. That counts.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

“It does to me. Now can we drop it?”

The elevator doors opened and she jumped out. “Fine. I’m going to practice.”

He watched her walk off—in the wrong direction. Her skates were hanging from her half-closed bag, threatening to fall out and be lost forever; the shoelaces on her right sneaker were untied; and she had a piece of blue duct tape randomly stuck to her jacket and a piece of white duct tape stuck to the back of her black cargo pants.

It suddenly hit him that he was not only sexually attracted to this mess of a wolfdog with bad time management skills, but he really liked her. More than he liked almost anyone.

Bo stepped out of the elevator and waited. Sure enough, Blayne stopped, looked around, threw up her hands, and spun back toward him. “Wrong way!” she laughed as she marched by him. “I swear, if the head wasn’t attached . . .”

He grabbed her backpack before she could shoot past. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“With me. You haven’t had breakfast. Your blood sugar will drop on you after ten minutes. I don’t want to find you sobbing again.”

“That was one time! Why do you have to keep bringing it up?”

Ric, busy butchering a gazelle for the day’s lunch special, stepped back, the bone saw in his hand. “Badger?” he asked the She-wolf standing on the other side of the island in the middle of his recently redesigned restaurant kitchen.

Dee-Ann shrugged.

Placing the saw down, Ric quickly washed his hands and then went to one of the steel refrigerators they had in the restaurant’s kitchen. He pulled out a tray of fresh fruit and grabbed a basket of croissants he’d brought in with him. He put that in front of Dee where she leaned against the counter.

“Ya always try and feed me.”

“You look tired. And your jeans are falling off.”

“I got abelt.”

“She-wolves shouldn’t be emaciated.” He gave her several napkins. “Eat.”

She did eat and studied her phone. Ric went back to his gazelle.

“Did she go to the hospital again?” he asked, removing a leg.

“Nope. Gwen wrestled that badger off her.” She shook her head. “I swear, that badger went after your teacup poodle like she owed it money.”

Ric laughed, and Dee went on. “Gwen cleaned her up and they finished the job, went to two others, and then headed back to the office, and then she went home. I thought she’d head out to the sports center, but she didn’t. Then Novikov showed up.”

Stopping in midswing, Ric looked over his shoulder at Dee. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Bo Novikov was at her apartment last night?”

“Yep. He tried leavin’, too, but she came runnin’ after him just like a puppy, beggin’ him to stay. Kind of sad, really. When a man says no, he usually means no.”

“When did he leave?”

“Not before Keith showed up to take over so I could come over here, which I guess would mean he was in there all night.” She chewed on a piece of fruit before adding, “Yep. Alllll night long.”

No. Ric didn’t like the sound of that at all.

Bernie Lawman checked his watch again. In the ten years he’d been the agent for Bo Novikov, not once had Bernie ever arrived before the hybrid—like he did today. And Novikov had never been late, but it was six thirty-one. That was late. Late for Bo Novikov. Pulling his phone out, he’d only punched in nine-one-one, when Novikov rushed up to their private table in the back of the members-only club restaurant in the sports center. You had to be a member or friends with a member to get in—and yes, it was something Bernie took great delight in lauding over his family members that none of them had access.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bo told him as he dropped his duffel bag off to the side. “It’s her fault.”

That’s when Bernie noticed her. It wasn’t the first time some female had tagged along with Bo to one of their breakfast meetings, but it was usually a well-dressed feline Bernie had just seen on the cover of some international fashion magazine. And although this female was pretty, her wardrobe left a lot to be desired and she’d never end up on the cover of any magazine with those thighs. Except maybe one of those weightlifter or running mags.

“Two minutes,” she argued with Bo. “You’re two minutes late. Not two hours. Such a drama bear!”

She dismissed him with a wave and started to walk off, but Bo grabbed the back of her pack and pulled her over to the table. “You’re gonna eat.”