Here, you’ll notice how the dog that once was Beastie became Bowser. Another casualty of the -ee sounding names. Still, the heart of the dog is the same. He didn’t much care what we called him, long as he got fed.

Abby took another gulp of temple tonic as she maneuvered her aging station wagon down the tree-lined street to the math building. She didn’t know what was in the stuff but it was giving her a shot of energy that she needed. She’d been on the go non-stop since she’d arrived in town that morning, trying to find out more about Granny B. Maybe Professor Christopher Mackenzie could provide some of those answers.

Bowser was flopped down on the seat beside her. “Hungry,” he growled, and Abby swerved, almost hitting a PT Cruiser.

She looked down at his massive head. “Tell me you didn’t speak.”

Silence, of course. She set the ceramic jar of tonic down on the seat. So maybe she was more tired than she thought.

The math building was up ahead, with a nice, easy parking space directly in front. Thanking the parking divas, she started to pull in.

“Food?” Bowser rumbled.

Abby jerked, then heard the hideous sound of metal scraping metal. “Son of a bitch. Did you say something?”

He looked at her calmly, so she climbed out to look at the car she’d hit. A Lexus. Of course. Still, it could have been a lot worse. Just a scrape and a broken tail light - more cosmetic than anything else. Unfortunately it was on a brand new Lexus, if she could judge by the temporary plates. Shit. “Looks like I screwed the pooch this time.”

Bowser lifted his head to look at her out of his dark, wise eyes.

“Not you, sweetie,” she said.

He said nothing. Of course he said nothing - he was a dog, for God’s sake.

She grabbed the ceramic jar and took one last swig of temple tonic, then fastened Bowser’s industrial strength leather leash. “All right, don’t look at me like that. I know you don’t need a leash. But you’re huge, and people get nervous.”

Bowser gave her a long-suffering look as he climbed out of the front seat. “If you say so,”

Of course with her luck, the door to the math building was locked when she reached it. The sign on the front said “Use the east door” but Abby could hardly tell east from west on a good day. Two people stood just on the other side of the plate glass doorway, so she knocked on the heavy glass. They both turned to look at her - a short, shaggy student with backpack and a tall, lean, uptight- looking professor beside him, as elegant in his dark suit as she was scruffy in her skinny jeans and t-shirt. She hoped to god he wasn’t Professor Christopher Mackenzie - he looked anything but warm and adaptable.

The two of them returned to their conversation, ignoring her, and for a moment her determination faltered. She was tempted to turn around and leave, but even if she chickened out of asking him about her mysterious grandmother she still had an obligation. She waited patiently until the door opened, and the tall, lean one looked down his patrician nose at her.

“Is that your dog? He shouldn’t be on campus without a leash.”

Abby glanced at Bowser, standing beside her, looking up at the professor with his benevolent, Nana-in-Peter-Pan gaze as if he approved. “He’s got a leash,” she said, trying to be Amiable Girl. “He’s standing on it. ”

“It doesn’t do much good that way. Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Professor Mackenzie.”

“You’ve found him.”

Shit. Just her luck. He was younger than she’d expected, and better looking, if you liked uptight, frowning men in suits, but he didn’t seem the kind of man who’d dish about Granny B.

“I’m Abby Richmond. I believe you knew my grandmother, Bea Simmons. She ran the Temple Street Coffee House. I had some questions …”

“Yes?”

He didn’t sound particularly forthcoming. “I didn’t know whether you were aware that she died two weeks ago,” Abby said, suddenly nervous. “You’d placed an order for cookies for a math reception tomorrow night and of course, since she’s gone …”

“I was aware.” No “sorry for your loss” from tall, blond and grumpy. “There are grocery stores around that can handle it. I assume you’ve come to return the deposit.”

Shit. She hadn’t even thought of that. Considering she had approximately forty-seven dollars in her purse and maybe two hundred dollars credit available on her Visa, the idea was appalling. “I’m afraid there’s a problem.”

“I’m really not interested in your problems.”

Asshole. She was losing her temper. and she hated to lose her temper, and to make matters worse, Bowser had lumbered over to the professor and was leaning against his leg. Pee on him. “My problems are your problems,” she said, trying to be reasonable. “I don’t know how to bake.”

His eyes were winter blue. Vivid, beautiful eyes. “Then you’d better be a fast learner.”

Definitely an asshole. If Granny B was anything like Abby remembered, she would have had nothing to do with a man like him, which meant he had nothing to tell her anyway. Her eyes narrowed. “Certainly,” she said in her sweetest voice. “Eight dozen cookies for tomorrow night. What time do you want them delivered?”

The look he gave her wasn’t particularly trusting. “I’ll pick them up tomorrow at six-thirty.”

“I’ll have them ready,” she said, politely. “I assume you know how to get to the Temple Street Coffee House? Just look for the empty building with the crazy woman covered in flour inside.”

Bowser nudged him, and he rubbed the dog’s huge head with deft fingers. He looked up with a faint smile that disappeared immediately, but for that one moment she could see a glimpse of something that might have been human warmth behind the cool, handsome face. Except that he wasn’t the kind of man who’d have any interest in spending more time than he had to with a scruffy vagabond, he was the kind of man who would want the best of everything, an elegant, perfectly dressed wife, an expensive house, a fancy car …

Fancy car. “I don’t suppose you own a Lexus,” she said.

“As a matter of fact I do. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” she said. “Nice car. I’ll go now.”

“I’ll be looking forward to the cookies.”

Not once you take a look at your car, Abby thought. She was heading for the parking lot when he called her name, and for a moment she let his voice slide down her back like a delicious shiver. “Yes, Dr. Mackenzie?”

“You said you had questions about your grandmother?”

“I somehow doubt you have anything to tell me about her. You look like the type who’d disapprove of someone like my grandmother and never go to coffee shops.”

“You’d be surprised at just what type I am, Miss Richmond.”

There was nothing she could say to that, so she simply she made her escape, trying to ignore the expression in his winter-blue eyes.

“We’re up shit’s creek, Bowser,” she said, grabbing his leash as he led her back to the car.

“What’s this we?” he growled. “He’s a good man.”

“Stop that,” she muttered, more to herself than him. “Even if you were going to actually talk to me you wouldn’t say something so ridiculous. He’s an asshole.”

“Over-reacting.” Bowser climbed into the front seat of the car and settled down with a gusty sigh.

She stared at him for a moment. No more temple tonic.

It took her just a minute to scrawl her insurance information on a torn envelope and tuck it under the windshield wiper of the Lexus. Another second to pull out of her parking space, only to hear the telltale scrape of metal on metal and the tinkle of broken glass as she took out one of the professor’s tail lights.

Bowser watched her, quiet reproach in his dark eyes.

“It’s not my fault,” she said. “I’m rattled. You don’t start talking to me everyday.”

Bowser slumped down on the seat. “No whining.”

Abby resisted the impulse to growl back at him.“ I tell you what we’ll do. You stop talking and freaking me out and I’ll buy you some ground sirloin for dinner when we get the stuff for the professor’s cookies. I mean, how hard could it be to bake cookies? And no more temple tonic, no matter how good it tastes.” She was feeling perfectly calm and level-headed, but anything that made her hear dogs talking had to be laced with something wicked.

“Suit yourself,” he growled.

And Abby drove very carefully down the street.