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IN LESS THAN AN HOUR after she roared out of Nick Hardin’s driveway, Cassie drove into the parking lot of an elaborate brick building and pulled in beside a lone red Porsche, thinking that she should have taken her best friend’s advice and gone into veterinary medicine instead of law. Dee had been savvy enough to tap into the gold mine that surrounded the movers and shakers in the dog world. Limiting her practice to champion canines only, Dee wouldn’t have allowed a cur like Nick Hardin’s to place a grimy paw on the pavement in the parking lot, much less receive treatment at the chic canine facility appropriately known as Pedigree, Ltd.

Cassie hopped out of the car, dragged Duchess’s crate from the passenger’s seat, then hurried to the glass front door of the building that had Your Champion Is The Heart Of Our Business stenciled in gold letters across the front.

“Dee…we’re here,” Cassie yelled the second she stepped inside.

“Well, hello Daisy Mae,” Dee Bishop teased as she appraised Cassie’s appearance.

Cassie frowned at her friend’s attempted wit. She still hadn’t taken time to change from her shorts and T-shirt, but she had grabbed her sandals this time. “Don’t start with me, Dee,” Cassie warned. “I’ve already had a morning straight from hell and it’s only ten o’clock.”

“Well, your reason for dragging my butt in here on a Saturday better be a good one,” the tall blonde said as she pulled on a lab coat. “I don’t ruin my weekends for just anyone.”

“Spare me the poor pitiful-me act,” Cassie grumbled. “As much as my mother pays you to take care of this fancy dog of hers, I think you can afford the sacrifice.”

“Touché,” Dee conceded. “Follow me.”

Crate in hand, Cassie followed her friend down the hallway to the first doggy examining room. “I know I was vague on the phone, Dee, but I wanted to get here as fast as I could.”

Dee waited until Cassie placed the crate on the table before she unfastened the latch and gently lifted the tiny dog out. “Hey there, Miss Duchess,” Dee cooed. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Are you under the weather today?”

“No. She was under the sex-crazed terrier who lives down the street.”

Clutching Duchess to her breast as if Cassie had arranged for the lewd rendezvous herself, Dee glared in Cassie’s direction. “That isn’t even funny, Cassie. The champion sire your mother arranged for will be here on Monday. If you’ve allowed another dog to get to Duchess first, your mother will kill you.”

Cassie’s deadpan look spoke volumes. “Of course Lenora’s going to kill me, you nitwit. Why do you think I was practically in tears when I called you?”

Ignoring the shocked look on Dee’s perfectly made-up face, Cassie began pacing around the room, talking more to herself than to her judgmental friend. “Believe me, Dee, if you think I’m taking this lightly, you’re badly mistaken. I’m the one who insisted that I should stay behind to keep Duchess and make sure everything went as planned with those breeders from London. ‘I can handle it, Mother,’ I kept saying until I was blue in the face. And do you know what’s so funny?” Cassie added with a hysterical giggle. “For once, Lenora actually trusted me to have enough sense to take care of things. Leave it to me to screw it up and only reinforce my mother’s opinion that I’m not capable of doing anything right.”

“Lenora doesn’t think anyone’s capable of doing anything right but herself,” Dee mumbled.

Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you think I realize that?”

“You already know what I think,” Dee insisted. “I think it’s way past time for you to cut the apron strings and stop trying to live up to Lenora’s expectations, Cassie. You’re twenty-eight years old. Get a life and put that dutiful-daughter act to rest.”

Cassie frowned. “Spare me your dutiful-daughter speech, Dee. You’ve been delivering it since we were in grade school.”

“And I’ll keep delivering it until you get a little backbone and at least move out on your own,” Dee insisted.

Circling the room again, Cassie sighed, thinking about her overbearing, hypochondria-impaired mother whom she loved in spite of everything. “You know as well as I do the minute I left home, Lenora would take to her sickbed like she did the last time I mentioned moving out. She expects me to live at home until I get married, Dee. It’s Mother’s twisted form of punishment for me being twenty-eight and still single.”

“Well, if I were you, I’d risk it,” Dee argued. “Call Lenora’s bluff about that phony heart murmur of hers.”

The image of her mother, left hand to her forehead, right hand draped dramatically over her heart instantly crossed Cassie’s mind. “Oh, Lenora definitely has a heart murmur, Dee. It murmurs suck-er every time I play along when she fakes another siege with her imaginary angina.”

Dee laughed, but shook her head in disgust. “I’ve never been able to understand the hold Lenora has over you, Cassie. You’re one of the most talented, confident and self-reliant women I know—except when it comes to your mother.”

When Cassie didn’t bother to respond, Dee realized the subject was closed. Taking a pair of rubber gloves from beneath the examining table, she snapped them into place and transformed from best friend into Dr. Bishop, canine care-giver. She began feeling along Duchess’s hindquarters.

Looking up at Cassie, Dee said, “And you’re positive Duchess and this stray male made contact?”

“Oh, they definitely made contact,” Cassie confirmed. “If I’d found them sharing a cigarette when I finally got over the shock, it wouldn’t have surprised me a bit.”

“Surely you weren’t letting her run loose knowing her condition?”

Cassie felt like slapping the dear doctor across the face. “Of course I wasn’t letting her run loose, Dee. I had the little witch in the backyard. Her boyfriend was just aroused enough to dig a hole under the fence.”

“You’d be surprised how inventive dogs can be when they’re ready to mate.”

“Oh, I’ve been surprised enough for a lifetime,” Cassie wailed. “Just tell me what we can do about it now.”

“There isn’t much we can do, after the fact.”

“But don’t you have one of those pee-on-a-stick doggy tests or something? Surely you have some space-age method that can tell me if I should start knitting little mongrel puppy booties by the dozen.”

Dr. Bishop finished her exam and tossed the gloves in the waste can. “I can do an ultrasound later, but it will take at least nineteen days before I’m able to detect any fetuses.”

“Nineteen days!” Cassie exploded. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? The grand stud from London is supposed to arrive on Monday.”

“And that may be your salvation, Cass. If Duchess is receptive to the champion male bichon, and the mutt didn’t impregnate her first, you may get your champion puppies, after all. It isn’t uncommon for a bitch to mate with more than one dog, you know. In fact, I’ve seen litters that have two entirely different sires.”

Cassie groaned. “Must you dog people always use the B word so causally?” Cassie scolded. “Even though I’d like to strangle the little floozy myself right now, I feel like a traitor allowing you to refer to Duchess as a bitch.”

“Well, you’d better get used to the sound of the B word, Miss Priss,” Dee teased. “I’m sure bitch will certainly cross Lenora’s mind if Duchess ends up with a litter of unregistered puppies.”

“That’s what I love about you, Dee,” Cassie scolded. “You’re always so supportive.”

Cassie made several more laps around the small room before she said, “I hate to even mention this, Dee. And don’t start throwing things, but I’ve heard there’s some type of shot…”

Dee sent Cassie a look that stopped her midsentence. “Yes, there is a ‘mismating’ shot available if that’s what you’re referring to, but I’d never use it personally. It can be detrimental to the bitch’s health.”

Cassie frowned. “So, what are we going to do now?”

Dee leaned against the examining table, displaying her best I’m-the-doctor-you’re-the-buffoon face. “Well, we certainly can’t take a chance that Duchess might be exposed again before the proper sire arrives,” Dee said. “I think you should leave Duchess here with me. I know one of the breeder’s stipulations was that you keep the dogs in a home environment instead of a kennel, but it makes much more sense for me to supervise the breeding here. I have the facilities to keep the dogs confined, and I can keep an eye on both of them in case there are any complications.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “And what am I supposed to tell the breeder? The man was rude enough when I called to inform him that Duchess’s trainer was in the hospital and that I’d be taking care of the dogs in his absence.”

“Let me handle that part. I can come up with a long list of valid reasons why I should monitor the breeding.”

When Cassie nodded in agreement, Dee added, “And by the way. I’ll also need to examine your neighbor’s dog. I don’t want to take any chances where Duchess is concerned, Cassie. The dog could even be diseased, plus if he’s a mixed breed and their little rendezvous was successful, the puppies could be too large and Duchess could have trouble whelping.”

Cassie’s laugh was cynical. “Fat chance of that happening. I just had a screaming fit in the man’s front yard less than an hour ago.”

Ignoring Cassie’s comment, Dee turned to the small basin next to the examining table and lathered her hands. “Then call him back and apologize, Cassie. Do whatever it takes. Like I said, Duchess is the one we have to think about now.”

Cassie shook her head furiously. “The day I apologize to Nick Hardin, is the day…”

Dee whirled back around, ignoring the soap that splattered on the floor. “Get out!” she gasped. “Surely you don’t mean the stray belonged to your neighborhood’s resident Hell’s Angel?”

“Oh, he’s an angel straight from the gates of hell, all right,” Cassie remarked, chewing at her bottom lip. “I just didn’t expect him to be…”

“A cross between Antonio Banderas and Brad Pitt—with a body better than Sly Stallone’s?” Dee quizzed, exercising the ability all close friends have of finishing each other’s sentences.

Cassie’s interest perked slightly. “So? You’ve met my infamous neighbor.”

“Yeah, several months ago. I know you were livid after his smart reply about his lawyer jokes, Cassie, but he’s really a great guy. He and Ron are organizing a committee to help children deal with the problems they face after a divorce. Ron says he’s really great with the kids, and he’s real generous with his time.”

Disturbed by the news that Nick Hardin might have even one redeeming quality, Cassie said, “Well, he’s an arrogant ass, if you ask me.”

Dee shrugged her shoulders, then turned back to rinse the soap from her hands. “Well, you know what I always say. Nick Hardin’s one man I sure wouldn’t…”

“Kick out of bed,” Cassie finished with a groan, then added, “You’re incorrigible, Dee. If I had a hunk like Ron for a fiancé, I’d never look twice at another man.”

“But you do have a hunk, remember? Or has your insignificant other finally given up on the ice maiden who won’t share his bed, or accept his proposal to become Mrs. Mark Winston?”

At the mention of Mark Winston’s name, Cassie grabbed her friend’s arm and stared in disbelief at Dee’s fancy Lady Rolex watch. “Damn! Mark’s supposed to pick me up in less than an hour, Dee. I’m supposed to attend one of those stupid fund-raisers with him at noon.”

“I know you say you aren’t in love with Mark, Cassie, and even if Lenora did handpick him as your perfect mate, you have to admit he’s a very ambitious man. Assistant D.A. now. Senator Mark Winston tomorrow. You could have a great life playing hostess in Washington to all those dignitaries from around the world.”

Ignoring Dee’s boring assessment of Mark Winston’s credentials, Cassie blew a kiss toward the little strumpet in the crate. “Take care of Duchess, Dee,” Cassie called over her shoulder as she ran from the room. “I’ll see you Monday when the Brits arrives. And once this is all over I want you to send Nick Hardin a huge bill for your services.”

WHEN CASSIE TURNED INTO her driveway thirty minutes later, Mark Winston was standing on her front porch with a scowl on his face. Looking down over the top of his designer glasses, her insignificant other, as Dee called him, reminded Cassie of a disapproving schoolmaster waiting for a tardy student.

Forcing a smile she certainly didn’t feel, Cassie stepped from the car, aware that Mark’s scowl quickly changed to a look of total shock when he noticed her untidy appearance. “What’s going on, Cassandra?” he demanded, glancing at his watch as if God had suddenly appointed him official time-keeper. “You aren’t even ready and it’s time to leave.”

Cassie walked past Mark as he stated the obvious, deciding she preferred extensive root canal therapy to sitting through another luncheon while Mark made a boring speech. “I’m sorry, Mark, but you’ll have to go without me,” she said over her shoulder as she entered the house. “Not that you bothered to ask, but I’ve had an emergency this morning.”

Having entered the foyer behind her, most women’s version of “tall, dark and handsome” followed Cassie down the hallway. When he marched into the Collinses’ rambling kitchen, he removed the jacket of his expensive Italian suit, slung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, then stood with his hands at his waist, waiting for an explanation. Cassie could see the crisp cut of his freshly starched Brooks Brothers shirt from the corner of her eye, but she continued to ignore him while she poured herself a much-needed glass of iced tea.

“Well? Don’t keep me in suspense, Cassandra. What was the big emergency?”

Mark’s insistence on always using her formal name, the way her mother did, had the same effect on Cassie as hearing fingernails scrape down a blackboard. Feeling like a child being interrogated by an angry parent, she whirled around and said, “I’ll tell you what the big emergency was, Mark. A mongrel dog from hell dug his way under the fence and seduced Duchess this morning before I could even swallow my first sip of coffee.”

“And?” he exploded.

Bracing herself to keep from grabbing Mark by his two-hundred-dollar tie and tightening the knot until his eyes bulged, Cassie answered through clenched teeth, “And, after I rescued Duchess, I tracked down the dog’s owner and gave him a huge piece of my mind. And then I had to take Duchess to Dee’s office to have her examined.”

Mark frowned, mulling over her words. “You said you gave him a huge piece of your mind. I certainly hope you haven’t said something to offend anyone in the neighborhood, Cassandra. Your father has personally introduced me to everyone in Biltmore Forest and you know I’m depending on every vote I can get when I run for office this fall.”

“Believe me, Mark, Father didn’t introduce you to this joker. It was Biltmore Forest’s biggest outcast, Nick Hardin.”

“Nick Hardin?” Mark repeated, his dark brows knitting in a frown.

“Yes, Nick Hardin. Like I said, I’ve already given him a huge piece of my mind, and if Duchess turns up pregnant, I’m going to sue that worthless…”

“And you went to Nick Hardin’s looking like that?” Mark interrupted, letting his eyes travel over Cassie’s under-clothed body. “Good grief, Cassie. I’m surprised he didn’t drag you into the bushes and ravish you the same way his dog did Duchess.”

Cassie met Mark’s cold stare, unimpressed with his attitude or with his sudden show of jealousy. “Is it some written rule that a man starts thinking with his family jewels the second the woman he’s dating comes in contact with another man?” she demanded.

Mark’s face reddened. “Well, how do you expect me to react when you go traipsing off to some hoodlum’s house looking like the current playmate of the month?”

When Cassie refused to answer, Mark eventually broke the silence. Using a much softer tone he said, “Look, I don’t like the idea of you living in the same neighborhood as an outlaw like Nick Hardin, much less you showing up at his house in that outfit. He’s trouble, Cassandra. Leave him alone.”

And he’s also gorgeous, Cassie thought to herself as the memory of her neighbor’s tight naked buns flashed through her mind. When she noticed Mark glance at his watch again, she said, “You’d better go, Mark. You’ll be late for your speech.”

“You know how important these functions are to my campaign,” Mark grumbled, unwilling to be dismissed without having the last word.

“Which is exactly why you should go,” Cassie told him. “It would take me at least another hour before I could be ready.”

Mark’s jaw muscles tightened as he sent her a scathing look. “Did it ever occur to you that I deserved the simple courtesy of a phone call, Cassandra?” he asked, his temper flaring again. “Who knows? Maybe I would have asked someone else to the luncheon. You obviously forgot all about me the second you had the opportunity to show up on Nick Hardin’s doorstep practically naked.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mark, you’re blowing this out of proportion and you know it,” Cassie snapped back. “And excuse me for having the misguided notion that I meant a little more to you than just some warm body sitting at your elbow when you took the podium.”

Mark glared back at her, then ran a hand through his dark, perfectly groomed hair. “You are special, and you know it,” he mumbled halfheartedly. “Maybe I would feel more secure if you were willing to make a commitment.”

Cassie stared at the man who was her grandfather’s senatorial protegé and her mother’s answer to who’s who on the social roster. “I’ve told you a million times, Mark, when I decide to accept a marriage proposal, it will be based on love. Not because it will benefit my future husband’s political career.”

Mark frowned, but he didn’t deny her accusation. “Well, it certainly won’t benefit my career or my campaign if word gets out that my girlfriend is hanging around with a bum like Nick Hardin.”

“Why on earth are you so obsessed with Nick Hardin?”

“I told you. He’s trouble. Surely you aren’t naive enough to think he won’t have a field day with your tirade about this dog problem on his damn radio program, Cassandra. I can’t afford a scandal like that this close to election, and you know it. Maybe you should call him and apologize.”

“I’ll do no such thing!”

Mark’s face turned crimson. “Listen, Cassandra, either you apologize to that idiot and head off the obvious disaster you’ll face if you go to war with him, or you can forget about me. It’s up to you. Make your choice now.”

Cassie felt every drop of blood in her body drain to her feet. “If Duchess does turn up with a litter of unregistered puppies, Mark, I will sue Nick Hardin for damages, campaign or no campaign. So, you make the choice now.”

Grabbing his jacket from the kitchen chair, Mark sent her a final disapproving look. “Remember, this was your call, Cassandra.”

“No, this is your loss, you self-centered…” Cassie groped for the right word as Mark stormed out of the room. “Politician!” she finally screamed, but her brave words rang hollow when she heard the front door slam in the distance.

Kicking the refrigerator, which only resulted in scraping the bare toes her sandal left exposed, Cassie let out a yelp, then limped to the kitchen table and, with an exasperated sigh, flopped down in one of the chairs. As amazing as it seemed, only twenty-four hours ago Cassie thought she had the entire world by the tail. Who would have guessed that the wag of a particular little tail would turn her world upside down?

In the short span of one morning, she’d allowed a priceless show dog to do the wild thing with a mutt straight out of the garbage heap. She’d practically been arrested for making crank calls to the security police. And now she had willingly liberated her mother’s idea of the perfect husband to go off and find a more suitable mate.

Well, that’s two major strikes against me as far as Mother is concerned, Cassie thought. First Duchess, and now Mark.

The disastrous turn of events would certainly be good for at least one month of sickbed silence from her mother. And though Cassie should have been near tears, oddly, she wasn’t. In fact, the insane irony of the situation actually struck her funny. She had separated Duchess from her boyfriend, and now Duchess had indirectly returned the favor.

Letting out a long sigh, Cassie rolled her head from side to side, trying to loosen the huge knot of tension that was now trapped between her neck and her shoulders. Praying that a hot shower might relieve at least the muscle-related part of her problem, Cassie started for her bedroom on the second floor. She had just reached the kitchen door when the shrill sound of the telephone sounded through the room.

Deciding it was Mark, calling from his cell phone to apologize, Cassie let the phone ring several times. An apology from Mark was the last thing she wanted. In fact, Cassie didn’t want Mark period. Although her mother had visions of monogrammed towels and dirty diapers where she and Mark were concerned, Cassie had known from the beginning she would never let things go beyond dating with Mark. She had only kept up the pretense to keep Lenora off her back.

After the fifth ring, Cassie answered the kitchen extension, prepared to tell Mark it was definitely over between them. Instead, she almost dropped the receiver when a familiar voice floated over the line.

“Look, counselor, I know we both got a little hostile earlier, but I’m sure this is something we can settle over a chilled bottle of wine and a sensible conversation. How about eight o’clock? Your place or mine?”

Cassie was dumbfounded. “You have to be the most arrogant, insufferable man I’ve ever met,” Cassie informed him.

“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Nick agreed, “but you’re the one who said we had a problem to solve. I’m just suggesting that we settle things in a much more pleasant atmosphere than a courtroom.”

Cassie laughed in spite of herself as a vision of Nick Hardin ushering dozens of women into his “much more pleasant atmosphere” danced through her mind. “Oh, I’m sure you handle all of your problems with a bottle of chilled wine and a sensual conversation, Mr. Hardin….”