then burst into hysterical giggles without shame or apology. She smiled, shaking her head, until the image of her running wild and free back in college hit her full force. The heady hit of dancing past midnight, learning new subjects that sparked her creativity, and the endless spill of time spread before her. Even with a full-time class schedule and a part-time job, Avery had felt as if she were discovering herself and blooming in DC. The world was a giant mystery waiting to be deciphered.
When had she lost that excitement? Sure, she adored most aspects of her job, but if she kept up her constant schedule, would she eventually burn out?
She finished her bagel, popped a breath mint, and pushed the endless questions aside. She had appointments throughout the evening, and then the three-day weekend would begin, full of back-to-back activities for the Johns’ wedding.
Right now, she had no time for doubts.
Kind of ironic.
She headed down the sidewalk toward Congress Hall, where she was supposed to meet Ally and Carter. The sprawling, elegant, sunny-yellow hotel had been transformed years ago from a horror house and was now one of the top-rated venues for weddings and receptions in Cape May.
As she approached the sign, she squinted in the light, trying to focus. Was that Carter? He was dressed in his usual suit—at least today he was sporting cream linen pants, a white shirt, and a casual jacket—but he was carrying something in a bag. Something that . . . moved.
A dog.
A very tiny dog.
Avery blinked a few times, but the image still registered. He had a large square bag with a strap slung over his shoulder. The material was durable soft leather in a cognac color. A small head peeked out from the top, and Avery saw it was a Yorkie. A bright-pink bow twisted a few locks of hair on top of her head, flopping back and forth as she moved. Her features were tiny, her nose a twitchy black dot surrounded by long strands of gray, black, and brown fur. Her collar was sterling silver and blinked madly in the sunlight, emphasizing a few glitzy charms that dangled.
The Yorkie stared back at her, a touch of arrogance in her face as she seemed to check out her new visitor. When Avery finally managed to tear her gaze away from the dog, she noticed that Carter was looking at her with the same arrogance.
“Ally should be here any moment.”
“What is that?” she asked, pointing to his bag.
“A dog. What’s the problem? Are you afraid of dogs?” His voice was rich, deep, and full of arrogance and demand.
The touch of sarcasm flicked at her nerves and brought her back to her college days, when he’d always spoken down to her. She changed course and decided to annoy him back. “Is that a man’s purse?”
He flinched. The glee of kicking him off-balance was like a sweet wave of adrenaline. “No. It’s an oversized briefcase with a detachable strap.”
She smirked. “Looks like a man purse to me. And your dog? She’s so . . . delicate.”
That lush lower lip curled. “Her name is Lucy.”
“How sweet. I love how her pink bow is so . . . feminine.”
His gaze narrowed with a touch of danger. A sizzle shot through her at the spark in those blue-gray eyes. Why did sparring with him bring such a rush of excitement? “You disappoint me, Avery.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“Dog discrimination and profiling. I bet you go the other way when you see a pit bull, too, assuming it’s aggressive and dangerous.”
Her jaw dropped. “I do not! I love dogs—all dogs! I don’t discriminate.”
He peered over his glasses, lips tight with disapproval. “You are making assumptions that as a male, I should have a big, burly type of dog. But I happen to like Yorkshire terriers. They’re refined, highly skilled mouse hunters, and fierce of heart. And Ally bought her the bow, which happens to be pink. Would you like to make fun of me now?”
Her cheeks burned. Damn him. He was always twisting her words! “I’m not making fun of you,” she said stiffly. “I was only making an observation.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“No. But only because I’m too busy with work. I have no time to take care of one. I’m a huge animal lover.” She decided to prove it, reaching over to pet Lucy. “Hey, sweetie, how are you?” she crooned.
Lucy bared her tiny, sharp teeth and growled.
She jerked her hand back.
“Small doesn’t