Darcy Stone had never been big on rules unless she was
breaking them. But that was the funny thing about nearly
dying—it changed you, in a big way. So she’d taken a good,
hard look at her life and decided that maybe a few
“guidelines” wouldn’t hurt.

Number one: Don’t stress the little stuff.

Number two: Never let a certain man into her heart. Ever.

Number three: Don’t take crap from anyone.

It was number three on her mind right now. Today’s crap
came
in the form of one weasel named Johnny Myers, a dog
trainer
who lived two counties over from Darcy’s town of Sunshine,
Idaho, deep in the Bitterroot Mountains. Johnny was
complete
pond scum, not to mention under investigation for
illegally
importing and exporting exotic animals.

It killed Darcy to do business with him, but if she
didn’t,
he’d send the dog she wanted straight to the kill shelter.

“I’m not paying you seven hundred dollars for a service
dog
you intend to dump for not passing his certs,” she said
into
her cell phone as she walked through the pouring rain and
into work. Hell, she didn’t have seven hundred dollars.

Her wet sneakers squeaked as she entered Sunshine Wellness
Center and rounded the front desk. Cold had started to
seep
through her drenched clothes to her aching bones but she
ignored this. “Make it two hundred,” she told Johnny, “and
you’ve got yourself a deal.”

She didn’t have two hundred, either, nor a way to even get
out to Johnny’s place since she no longer drove highways,
but she’d worry about that later.

Johnny started sputtering with outrage as she shoved her
wet
hair back from her face, going still when her body
suddenly
went into hyper-alert mode.

Damn. Again? At this rate she could hire herself out as
some
sort of paranormal secret agent . . . except the only
person
whose appearance she could predict was AJ Colten.

Guideline number two, and the bane of her existence.

And sure enough, in walked her boss: six feet two inches
of
solid muscle, testosterone, and attitude. And damned if
she
didn’t have a secret thing for all of the above. Very
secret, since she’d gone there with him once—or nearly
anyway—and had been burned big-time.

Never again, no matter how hot he was.

Luckily she had one heck of a poker face, because on a
good
day just a fleeting glance from AJ reminded her that she
was
a twenty-six-year-old sex-starved woman.

On a bad day, every single part of her sent urgent memos
to
her brain that she was practically a re-virginized
twenty-six-year-old sex-starved woman.

It took everything she had not to look hungry.

Or even overly friendly.

AJ made it a lot easier by showing absolutely zero
interest
in her. The only thing she got this morning was a hooded
glance that probably meant he was wondering why he’d even
hired her.

She raised an eyebrow in his direction, trying for
nonchalance while she soaked up the sight of him and the
easy, confident way he moved his big body.

“Not a penny less than six hundred,” Johnny said in her
ear.

“Three hundred,” she countered, tearing her gaze away from
AJ. “And I’m cold and wet and almost late for work. If you
don’t want the money, tell me now, because I need to go.”

Thanks to an unseasonably warm late fall putting Mother
Nature in a mood, rain and wind slashed at the building.
Darcy loved the rain. What she didn’t love was a violent
storm. Not only was she shivering, she undoubtedly looked
like a complete mess.

Her life motto was dance like no one was watching, so she
told herself she really didn’t care what she looked like.
Then she told herself that a few more times while watching
AJ’s mighty fine bod move across the room.

“Three hundred is a joke,” Johnny complained. “I bet if I
opened my e-mail I’d have ten offers that are better.”

“You go take a look,” she said. “I’ll wait.” While she
did,
she shoved her purse into the filing cabinet, but not
before
taking a surreptitious bite out of one of the two
breakfast
taquitos she’d grabbed on her way in.

When she realized AJ was heading her way, she nearly
choked
in her rush to swallow because AJ didn’t approve of the
love
of her life—crap food. And as he was the boss, owning the
Sunshine Wellness Center as well as being head physical
therapist, she tried to play by his rules. Okay, not
really,
but she at least did her best to hide the evidence.

She booted up the computer and caught an accidental flash
of
her reflection on the screen.

Yep, she was a hot mess, alright, her long curls—usually
her
best feature, if she did say so herself—now resembled a
frizzy squirrel’s tail.

Good thing she didn’t care.

Naturally, AJ was not a mess. Not that he ever was. Nope,
as
usual he’d defied the odds, the rain not daring to stick
to
him. And no squirrel-tail hair for him, either. His
sun-streaked brown hair was short and silky smooth, and as
he took in her hair, his lips quirked in an almost smile.

Bastard.