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is just a dating service?”
    Oh God. What did he think I was doing? Running a prostitution ring? Selling drugs? Making moonshine in the hall closet? Producing counterfeit cash under my desk? I was so embarrassed I was sure my face was the darkest shade of red possible. I wanted to crawl under my desk and hide. And I had thought he was flirting. How stupid could I be?
    “It’s merely a dating service.” I tried to sound confident. I think it sounded as if I was hiding something that would only add to his apparent doubts about me.
    “All right. Get a Mate , right?” He pointed a finger at me for confirmation.
    I nodded my head. “Yes, Get a Mate .”
    He shuffled backward a few steps. “Come and get me if you need me, all right? Don’t hesitate to ask.”
    “I will. Thanks again.” I gave him a wide grin.
    He hesitated and opened his mouth once more to speak, but didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode out the doorway. The echo of his shoes bounced off the old walls as he ambled away.
    I collapsed my head onto my desk. If it hadn’t been for the headache I already had, I would have beaten it against the hard surface. The door in the foyer that led outside was open. The hooligan hadn’t shut it in his frantic departure. After my wild dog attack, I was surprised Jack hadn’t noticed and shut it. A light wind slipped through, a welcome reprieve, even if warm and only for a moment. It was late September, but the days were still muggy and I was sweating after wearing furry gloves.
    The traffic picked up. With it, exhaust fumes wafted through the open door mixed with a faint scent of the remaining late-blooming flowers outside. In front of my office I had a little patch of concrete. A tiny space. But enough for a few planters and such. I’d placed the rosebush close to the door so every time I walked in I would smell the roses. Even in the city, one should never be without flowers--they always lifted my spirits. And my spirits could use a lift.
    People walked by and I lifted my head to stare at them, wondering if their worlds were as crazy as mine. Somehow I doubted it. I looked down at my hands, making sure the fur was gone. Whew. I was back to normal. At least what constituted normal for me. It was at times such as this that I wondered about my career choice.
    I’d put everything I had into Get a Mate . Not to mention my parents’ retirement money. I couldn’t fail--I just couldn’t. Day after day, my customers said the same thing: finding a soul mate when you were that hairy proved to be extremely difficult. Try explaining to your new boyfriend why you grow outrageous amounts of hair and bay whenever the moon is full. Being a werewolf should not kill your social life, and my job was to lend a hand. Granted, I only turned into my complete werewolf-self during a full moon, or when completely stressed or very angry, but I sympathized with their pickle. Thankfully, I looked as normal as anyone else the rest of the time. As long as I didn’t forget to use depilatory on my knuckles, I was good to go.
    I switched on the computer and checked my email. The usual penis enlargement spam and a reminder for the monthly pack meeting. Nothing important.
    “Oh, my lord and Taylor. What the hell happened?” Jennifer’s scream broke the silence, interrupting my reverie. I forgot she hadn’t left for work yet. Now I would have to explain everything to her, reliving every agonizing detail.
    “Rylie, are you all right?” She ran to my desk. “Are you injured?”
    “Calm down, I’m fine. Do not panic,” I said. “You’re such a worrywart. That’s why I don’t want to tell you when something’s wrong.” I noticed my purse in her hands. I’d forgotten I’d thrown it on the floor while fighting with Lily.
    “You’re fine? Fine? Do you want to explain why your door is off its hinges? That doesn’t look like fine.” She set my purse on my desk.
    “Do I want to? No. Will I? I guess I have no choice. I