His approval made her glow more than all the pampering. She glanced in the mirror again and smiled. Of course, she did look nice. Really, really nice. And he'd arranged it all.

All. She raised her chin, scowling into Alex's eyes in the mirror. “You sadist,” she snapped. “You told them to…” She felt her face turning red and sputtered out, “Do you know how much that hurts?”

Her move away from him was forestalled when he put one unyielding arm around her waist. His other hand slid down her gown to press against her groin. The feel of silky fabric, then the warmth of his hand penetrating to her poor bare pussy made her shiver, and he chuckled.

“I'll make amends later,” he murmured in her ear, and she could feel his cock hardening where he pressed against her from behind.

She thought about what his mouth would feel like on all that newly bare, sensitive skin, and her breathing hitched. “Mmmmh.” She cleared her throat against the constriction. “You do that, then.”

“Oh I intend to.” With a low laugh, he nipped the top of her shoulder, and her nipples puckered so tightly, they ached.

She pulled in a breath. Enough, or they'd spend the evening in bed. She moved far enough away to turn. Getting a good look at him, she blinked. “Wow. You clean up pretty nice, Mr. Fontaine.”

His eyes crinkled, only adding to the devastating effect of all that masculinity in a black tuxedo. “Thank you. Now you may tell Butler the same.” He nodded at the door.

She followed his gaze and burst out laughing. Sitting politely by the door, Butler had on a dog-style tux and bow tie. Rather than appearing chagrined by the costume, he looked quite proud of himself.

“You look stunning, Butler. I'm going to be with the two most gorgeous males there tonight.”

Butler's muzzle rose a little in acknowledgment of this truth.

Well, the evening couldn't be all bad if people brought their pets. She took a deep breath as Alex draped her cape over her shoulders.

Now if she only didn't do anything stupid…

Chapter Fifteen

The black-tie event of the fall, one newspaper had called it. Mac gaped like a hick as they walked through a hotel lobby filled with the elite of Seattle society, many of whom had pet escorts ranging from Chihuahuas in chiffon tutus to Great Danes in diamond-studded collars.

One German shepherd paraded around in a crown and kingly robes. “Oh my, just look at him.” After a second, Mac recalled herself. “Butler, you're the best-looking dog here.”

Butler gave her a dignified tail wave in answer.

Holding Butler's leash, Alex chuckled. “The pet stores do a brisk business before the ball.” He set his hand on her lower back, and his thumb stroked over her bare skin.

Giving him an exasperated look, she saw the amusement in his eyes. He definitely liked her backless gown. As he guided her through the crowd, exchanging greetings with people here and there, Mac tried not to enjoy the protective feeling of his arm around her. Don't get used to it, MacKensie. Nothing like this lasts.

Although she wouldn't lose him for at least two more weeks.

Really, she shouldn't have let him talk her into staying, but her common sense and her own desire had overcome her pride. But once she had a job, then her common sense would be satisfied, and she'd leave.

Frak, I'll miss him.

When the hotel manager cornered Alex with questions about the auction, Mac watched the people milling around and realized she didn't know any of them. Good. No one to point fingers or whisper behind her back. And yet loneliness created a little hollow in her chest. After the hotel manager bustled away, she asked, “Will Hope and Peter be here?”

Alex brushed his knuckles over her cheek, his look so tender, she couldn't move. “We'll find them in the auction area. Peter volunteered to oversee one of the tables.”

They made it at least twenty feet before they were stopped again. Alex performed introductions, talked briefly, and moved on. Ten feet. Introductions. Chatting as Butler politely exchanged sniffs with each leashed pet. Ten more feet. “Do you know everyone here?” Mac finally asked.

“Fontaine Industries owns various businesses, properties, and all that, so I know a lot of people, yes. And those who support the dog and cat programs come every year.” He grinned and bent down to pat Butler. “This is Butler's fourth year.”

“Alex, good to see you.” A middle-aged brunette in a scarlet gown strolled over. “The auction is a hit. How did you finagle those cruise-ship packages?”

“I have a sweet-talking manager who I sicced on the cruise lines.” Alex smiled at Mac. “Susan, this is my friend MacKensie Taylor. She's a vet from the Midwest and plans to relocate here to Seattle. Mac, this is Susan Weston. She runs the Weston Animal Hospital.”

They talked briefly about Mac's first view of the Sound and mountains, then the work Susan did for the spay-neuter programs. By the time Susan excused herself, Mac had decided to add Susan's hospital to her list of places to apply.

As they drifted toward the huge room set up for the silent auction, Mac met ten more veterinarians, most of whom owned their own clinics. “Don't any middle-class people attend this event?” she asked finally when she and Alex were alone.

“Not too many,” he said absently, nodding at a couple. “It's four hundred dollars a plate.”

She stopped dead, and he'd taken two steps past her before realizing she was gone. With a huffed laugh, he returned. Running his hands up and down her bare arms, he said, “Relax, pet. Keeping the price high draws the big spenders so we can soak them good in the auction room. That is the point, after all.”

“Yes, but—”

“Just treat everyone like Butler does,” he advised. “His only concern is if a person smells good and knows how to pet a dog properly.”

Hearing his name, Butler looked up and wagged his tail.

Mac pulled in a breath. “Okay. I…sorry. I just hadn't realized—thought about…” She shrugged helplessly. God, she was so far out of her class… Her chest ached.

Alex's hands tightened on her arms. “No. I don't want to see that look in your eyes.” He frowned at her. “People are people. A lot of the ones here inherited money. They didn't do anything productive to earn it. Others gave up everything to get rich. Does having money and no character make a person admirable?”

But if they knew what she'd done? But they don't, stupid. Get over it. She looked great, and the most gorgeous man in the place escorted her. Her lips curved. “All right. Sorry. Momentary panic attack,” she said lightly.

Alex kissed her cheek gently. “Now that's character,” he said, then continued leading her into the auction room.

“MacKensie!”

Mac froze, then grinned as a tiny streak of electric blue sped across the room. “Hope, you're here.”

“Look at you! You look awesome.” Hope clapped her hands, then wrinkled her nose at Alex. “Phht, you don't deserve her, you know.”

Mac's mouth dropped open. When Peter appeared and drew Alex's attention, she edged closer to Hope and whispered, “Won't you get in trouble talking to him that way?”

Hope giggled. “No. The rules are for play or… Well, each couple is different. Some are truly Master and slave all the time, but those in our little group aren't.” She shook her head. “Of course, if I give him too much grief, he'll make me suffer for it the next time we all get together.”

When Peter and Hope headed back to their station at an auction table, an older woman broke away from a small group. Wearing a silvery gown that accented her blue eyes and silver hair, she seemed the epitome of dignity. Taking Alex's hand, she kissed his cheek lightly and said, “I'm giving a dinner party next Friday, and I'd like you to attend.”

Mac frowned at how familiar her voice sounded. Maybe from one of the vet's offices or…

“Why don't you bring Cynthia with you?” the woman asked.

Do not glare; glaring is not polite. Mac smoothed her expression out with an effort. But maybe this was a good time to go hang out with Peter and Hope for a bit. She started to edge away.

Alex's hand wrapped around her arm, holding her in place. “Cynthia moved to Rome, Mother.”

Rome? Mother? Oh frak. She didn't think she moved, but the fingers around her arm tightened.

“Mother, I'd like you to meet my friend MacKensie Taylor, who is moving here from the Midwest. MacKensie, this is my mother, Victoria Fontaine.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Mac said, forcing sincerity into her voice.

“Welcome to Seattle, Miss Taylor,” Victoria said with not a speck of warmth. “If you'll excuse me, I want to check our seating arrangements.” She tilted her head at her son, patted Butler, nodded to Mac, and swept away.

How long did you have to be rich before you learned to walk like a queen? Mac wondered, shoving aside the pain from being so obviously detested. She glanced at Alex. “I didn't realize you have family here.” Actually, since she wasn't used to having any, she hadn't even thought about it.

“Please forgive my mother,” Alex said softly. “My father was unfaithful and had a liking for blondes, so Mother acts as if every pretty blonde is a hooker.”

A hooker. Mac felt the blood slide right out of her face, and her hands clenched. “Nothing to forgive,” she said hastily. “But I just spotted the ladies' room. If you and Butler will excuse me, please?” Before he could grab her and quiz her, she escaped. She knew her hasty retreat not only didn't look like a queen's but displayed no dignity whatsoever.