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like pitching in with the never-ending cleanup after the tornado.
    And now working with the animals? Except he wasn’t. He’d left that cat at the shelter. He’d meant everything he said about not having time for a pet, but Megan had asked about temporary fostering and he’d rejected that out of hand. He knew he’d disappointed her with his answer. Or rather confirmed her preconceived negative notions about him.
    Maybe if he got a couple of cats to keep each other company. Cats were more independent, right?
    As he opened the door to the kitchen, his cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and the caller ID showed...Megan Maguire?
    His pulse kicked up a notch at just the sight of her name. Damn, he needed to get a grip. Pursuing her was one thing. Giving her this much control over how he felt? Not okay. He needed to keep things light, flirtatious.
    He answered the phone. “Hello, pretty lady. What can I do for you?”
    “Seriously?” she asked dryly. “Do you always answer the phone that way?”
    “Megan?” he answered with overplayed surprise. “Well, damn, I thought it was my granny calling.”
    She laughed, her voice relaxing into a husky, sexy melody. “You have a granny?”
    “I didn’t crawl out from under a rock. I have relatives.” Just really distant ones who had cut ties with his branch of the family tree long ago because of his father. “Actually, my grandmother passed away ten years ago. My cheesy line was totally for your benefit, I just didn’t expect it to fall so flat. So let’s start over.”
    That might not be a bad idea: to call for a do-over in a larger way, erase the past three and a half years.
    “Sure,” she said. “Hello, Whit, this is Megan Maguire. I hope I didn’t disturb your supper.”
    “Well, hey there, Megan.” He opened the stainless-steel, oversized refrigerator and pulled out an imported beer. “What a surprise to hear from you. What do you need?”
    He sat in a chair at the island where the cooking service he’d hired left a dinner in a warmer each night. He couldn’t cook. Tried, but just didn’t have the knack for more than grilling and he worked too late to grill. He twisted open the beer and waited for her to answer.
    “I was just loading my dishwasher, and this weird panic set in that maybe you weren’t serious earlier.”
    “About what?” He tipped back a swig of the imported brew.
    “Did you really offer your plane to transport animals?”
    “Absolutely. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” His father was the king of broken promises, all smiles and dreams with no substance.
    “Whew,” she exhaled. “Thank goodness. Because I asked a contact in Colorado to check out the rescue. I also spoke with the veterinarian the rescue uses and everything appears perfect. So I called them and they can still take a dozen of our cats, a huge help to us and to local animal control. Am I being pushy in asking how soon we can transport them because I would really like to see them settled before Thanksgiving?”
    “Not pushy at all.” This was Thursday, with turkey day only a week away. He had a meeting he couldn’t miss on Friday, but the notion of spending the weekend with her was enticing as hell. He’d hoped this would work out. He just hadn’t realized how quickly the plan would come together. “Glad they have space to accommodate. I could see you’re stuffed to the gills.”
    “Feeding and caring for so many animals is depleting our budget in a hurry.” Her voice was weary, tempting him to race over to her house with his pre-cooked dinner. “We try our best to plan for disasters, but having just built the new shelter, we’re stretched to the max.”
    He couldn’t feed her tonight, but he could lighten some of her load. “I also meant it when I said I’ll talk to the Cattleman’s Club about rolling up their sleeves and opening their wallets. We can help. We’re about more than the Stetson hats and partying.”
    “I honestly don’t