What the hell was that about?

It was the damn puppy. It had to be. Fuzzy, cute things always seemed to have that effect on people.

But Blake Donovan was not people. He had to regain control.

Breaking their eye contact, he drew his hand back with a snap. “I am hardly concerned with its breeding or the feel of its fur. I am curious as to why you would bring your needy little dependent into my office, where it has thus far attempted to ruin everything it comes into contact with.”

Blake could feel his eye twitching a little. Judging from where Drea’s now less-delighted eyes were riveted, he guessed she noticed as well.

“It isn’t my pet; it was my plan.” Despite the waver in her voice, she maintained eye contact.

Damn, this girl was good. He was definitely going to hire her on at the company when she was done with her current contract.

“What plan? The one where I have to have my desk refinished?”

Her eyes narrowed. “The plan where you become a man, albeit a real jerkweed, but still a man, and not a machine.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Jerkweed? “I fail to see how unleashing this small beast upon my home will make me more of a man. If anything, it will make me more of a tyrant.”

“So you admit it!” The sparkle was stealing back into her grin.

So much for regaining control. “I can be stern, and a bit aloof,” he corrected. “Tyrant isn’t the word I would have chosen, but it is bandied about the office a fair bit.”

“The queen of England keeps corgis. The breed is very distinguished. It fits into your lifestyle and yet warms you up. And believe me, Blake, you need warming up. You need the puppy.” She thrust it in his direction.

He kept his hands at his sides, hating the thoughts that flickered through his mind at the idea of Drea warming him up. “I need no such thing.” Though he wasn’t sure whether he was referring to the dog’s warmth now or Drea’s.

“You need the puppy! Look at the puppy. You want the puppy.” Again, she attempted to jam it into his arms. He took a step back. She took a step forward. Another step back—he’d been put on the defensive, and he hated that position. How had everything gone so wrong, so fast?

He firmed his stance, refusing to move again. “I do not want the puppy. Keep the puppy away from me. Doesn’t it have a kennel or something?”

“Why would you kennel this little bundle of joy? This is exactly my point, Blake. Even if you have only a shriveled blackened lump where your heart should be, this little critter will melt any woman unfortunate to end up here with you.” She was getting cheekier and cheekier. How was someone who treated him so flippantly going to sell him to the prospective dating pool?

Oh.

“Look, Andrea. I know you meant well, but I am not interested in adding another member to my household that cannot operate a can opener.”

Her face fell. She frowned down at the scrap of fluff in her hands.

“It was a good plan, you know. Now I’m not sure what I’ll do. You are just incredibly difficult to get to know. If I could find a redeeming quality in you”—she held up the puppy—“I wouldn’t have to buy you one. Why won’t you work with me a little on this? For the woman you plan to marry—you’re going to have to let her in, too, at some point.”

Watching her standing there, absently petting the big ears attached to the furball while she blinked at him, he almost could imagine letting her in.

For his future wife, of course. He supposed she might be right about that bit. But it was too soon. For either of them. He desperately needed that run, now. Time to cut this off.

“Drea, I think we had a nice moment here. You got the chance to run your idea past me, and you’ve certainly given me plenty to think about as per my privacy preferences.” The corgi looked up at him with sad eyes that matched those of the woman who held it. “You can leave the animal and its information here. I’ll deal with the drop-off. You may take the rest of the weekend for yourself. Thank you for your insight.”

“Am I fired?” Drea demanded, suddenly back to the furious temperament he’d seen too many times from her already.

All this emotion was exhausting.

“No, Drea, you are not fired. I just think we’re done for the day. After all, I now have the files I asked you to bring. I’ll look them over on my own. Put”—he waved at the ball of fur—“that down, and I’ll see you on Monday.” After he had time to regroup. Time to figure out how he could give Drea what she needed from him without exposing any of his weaknesses.

He watched her with as much detachment as he could muster while she lovingly set the creature in the chair she’d occupied the other day—the upholstery would be covered with hair!—gathered her stuff, and walked out without a good-bye.

Was he truly so inaccessible that she required drastic measures to make him attractive as a spouse? If he was being honest with himself, then the answer would be … maybe. Maybe Andrea did know what he needed.

But good God, really? A puppy?

Chapter Nine

Blake glanced at his watch for the third time in two minutes. Drea had warned him that anxiously watching the clock while on a date did not leave the best impression, but frankly, he didn’t care what effect he had on the woman in front of him. The impression she left on him was appalling.

All right, maybe that was an exaggeration. Drea would want to know why he didn’t want to go out with her again, so he attempted to form a reason. He studied her features as she sipped her dessert coffee. Like all the women he’d been set up with in the last month, she was pretty enough—her skin was pale, her frame slight, her straight hair so dark it was nearly black—exactly the type of woman he was attracted to for the most part. Drea had gotten his preferred look down, that was certain.

At least, it had been his preferred look. Now he wasn’t so sure. Her knobby bones couldn’t be comfortable to embrace. He imagined hugging her would be like hugging a skeleton. He couldn’t even think about what it would be like to have sex with her.

In fact, he hadn’t been able to imagine having sex with any of the dates. He’d tried to kiss one of them once. Even that had gone badly. When he leaned in, she’d lifted her eyes to meet his and he was startled when her big browns weren’t the green-flecked that he’d been imagining, so he’d aborted the attempt. Which was absolutely ridiculous. He didn’t even know anyone with green-flecked eyes. Except Andrea.

He looked at his watch again. Two minutes later than the last check and he still didn’t have a reason he could quite articulate for why the woman in front of him wasn’t right. He’d been unable to explain why the others weren’t for him as well. Well, except for Jamie the femi-Nazi. Simply put, they were just … wrong.

Perhaps it was him that was wrong, though he’d never admit that aloud. And if it was him, he couldn’t say what it was he was wrong about. He looked good for his dates. He followed Drea’s social advice, mostly. The dates were all ones he’d approved of by photo and résumé. What was the problem, then?

He caught his date smiling at him over her coffee cup. Her teeth were so perfectly straight and white, it almost seemed unnatural. He wondered if he should attempt conversation again. Drea had suggested, though, that talking about himself was not the best way to attract a woman. Listen to them instead, she’d said, or ordered, rather.

The problem with that advice was that this woman didn’t speak. At all. She hmm’d and ah ha’d, but that was the extent of her conversation. Even when he asked a question, he’d receive only a giggle in response.

She should be the perfect woman—attractive and quiet. And bland.