Animal Instincts by Gena Showalter Page A

planner. I’m the hired help. And three, I’m not going to bore you with all the reasons I gave you before for not wanting to be with him. Reasons that still stand.”
    “Whatever. I’ve just never seen you this affected by a man. Your cheeks flush every time his name is mentioned, and your eyes glow. Literally glow. I think Royce could be the one. Your one.”
    I fought the urge to cover my ears. “Don’t say that. Not ever again.”
    “I bet he meets every requirement on the list. The Mr. Right list every woman supposedly has,” she added, “and not the Mr. Wrong list we thought up.”
    I pushed through my growing panic and hurriedly changed the focus of our conversation. “Speaking of Mr. Right, are you still on the lookout for the future Mr. Kera Gellis?”
    “Of course,” she said, allowing the change without protest. “I even have a prospect in mind.”
    My back straightened and my brow furrowed. “Who?” If she said Royce, I was going to hurt her. “As of yesterday, you weren’t seeing anyone.”
    “I’m still not. But George Wilben has caught my interest.” He was Kera’s next-door neighbor and (in my opinion) not the best choice of man for Kera. Not that she was too good for him, but she was a social butterfly and George would never be able to keep up. “He copped a feel this morning.”
    “Of what?”
    Kera’s large blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “My butt.”
    “He didn’t!” George looked like the quintessential computer nerd. Glasses. Tall, lanky body. Mussed brown hair that always blocked his vision. The only difference was, George knew nothing about computers. He was an actor for the local community theatre.
    Go figure.
    “He most certainly did,” Kera said, smiling. “He took a squeeze, too. I knew he’d cave in and go for it sooner or later. I feel his gaze on me every time I walk by him.”
    “We’re talking about the guy who hasn’t taken off his sweater vest since the great heat wave four years ago, right?”
    “That’s the one.”
    “He squeezed your ass? Really?” I still couldn’t picture it.
    “Well, maybe I turned around and asked him to do it,” Kera said with a smile.
    I chuckled again. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
    “Absolutely.” Kera’s grin widened. “Mel must be rubbing off on me.” She sighed, losing a little of her humor. “If George doesn’t ask me out soon, I’ll have to ask him out.”
    “You’re that interested?”
    “Well, yeah. I like the way he looks at me. More than that, I realized that I like the way I feel when he looks at me.”
    I knew her, knew what she was really saying. She wanted a man who made her feel worshipped. She deserved it; so did every woman, for that matter. Was something like that possible, though? I didn’t think so. I’d never seen it. Even the most passionate of marriages usually ended in divorce. The hotter the spark, the quicker it died, right?
    With that cheerful thought, I decided it was time to get down to business. “How’s your schedule looking for the third weekend in September?” I asked.
    “Open, why?”
    “I want you to cater Linda Powell’s party. I already have Royce’s approval.”
    “Cool.” Thoughtful, she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “You know, in the last six months, I’ve had more business than my parents ever did. And they ran this place for twenty years.”
    “It’s because you’re the best caterer in town.” When she wasn’t trying new, exotic recipes, that is.
    “No.” She shook her head. “It’s because you send all your customers my way.”
    “And they love me for it. You’ve never disappointed.” I reached into my briefcase, withdrew three sheets of paper, saw that one was the application packet for Royce’s bride, and hurriedly shoved it back inside. Cheeks heating, I handed the correct papers to Kera. “Here’s a list of possible themes, as well as a list of acceptable food items. You’ll notice the Powells are very