It was weird how they’d also magicked away the sheer enormity of her presence.

“Cat got your tongue?” Dr. Cooper’s lips twitched. “Heh. Vet joke.”

“Not a very good one,” Felicity shot back without thinking. “I mean, it’s a bit unoriginal.”

“True enough.” The woman shrugged, looking completely unfazed by the criticism. Her eyes dragged over Felicity’s outfit.

It was a new season Elie Saab pantsuit. Felicity knew she looked good in it. Professional. Something the vet might want to look into.

“Shall we start again? I’m Doctor—”

“Sandy Cooper,” Felicity cut in. And…weird how that had come out like an accusation.

The woman tilted her head in acknowledgment. “Everyone calls me Cooper.” She shut the driver’s door, locked it, and eyed Felicity. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage. And you are?”

“Felicity Simmons,” she said before adding her new title, “deputy chief operating officer of Bartell Corp.” Soon to be acting COO, she wanted to add but restrained herself. Felicity rose a little higher on the balls of her feet. It still didn’t feel real.

“Proud of that title, I see.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Felicity snapped.

The other woman sighed. “Care to explain how you know me?”

“There was an article in the paper,” Felicity began. “Living Ruff New York closing?”

“Ah.” Cooper’s eyes tightened as if to say oh that, and she headed past Felicity to the back of the van, opening its double doors wide.

Felicity stood back transfixed as the woman hauled out two enormous bags stamped DOG FOOD 20LB and dumped them on the ground beside her.

“Donations,” Cooper said, noticing her interest. “Close to their expiration date, so I got them for free.” She eyed Felicity up and down as though deciding something, then laughed. “I was about to ask for a hand getting the bags inside. Never mind.”

“Yes. Well. I’m a lawyer, not a Sherpa.” Felicity folded her arms. She was quite sure she wouldn’t be able even to nudge a bag with her toe, let alone lift it. That’s what you hired people with muscles for.

“Lawyer, hmm? Here to sue us or something?” Cooper’s eyes grew sharp. “Because we haven’t got much. Everything goes to the animals and their owners.”

“Of course not. I’m here to look at what you do at Living Ruff and consider making a donation. On behalf of Bartell Corporation.”

Cooper paused and squinted at Felicity. “I see.” She tossed a huge bag over one shoulder. “Big media company, right?”

“The biggest.”

Then as if the first bag were easy, she flung the second over the other shoulder and headed toward the building. “Get the door, can you?” she called back.

Felicity glanced back at the van, nodded, then gave the doors a firm push until they slammed shut.

“Not those doors, although thanks. I meant the office.” She tilted her head toward the redbrick monstrosity.

Oh. Of course. Cheeks scalding at her stupidity, Felicity scurried ahead and went to open the door. It didn’t budge. “It’s locked.”

“Damn it. Our receptionist, Mrs. Brooks, must be held up again. All right…” Cooper studied Felicity until she reached Cooper’s side. “You could start your charitable donations right now.”

Felicity frowned. “How?”

“Reach into my left pocket and grab my keys.” She jutted one dirty jean-clad hip forward.

Into her pocket? Was she for real? That seemed awfully personal. You don’t just ask strangers to…and certainly not when they’re wearing jeans that had quite clearly rolled around in filth recently.

Even so, Felicity’s fingers tingled at the prospect of being that close to those impressive thighs. Entirely without intending to, she slid her hand slowly into the woman’s pocket and clasped a metal bundle.

The heat Cooper was giving off was fierce, but that made sense if she’d just been doing physical work. Felicity imagined her in a tank top, her powerful muscles gleaming as she exerted herself in manual labor of some sort. Her arms were probably as strong and muscled as her shoulders. Because they had to be, didn’t they?

“Hey, Felicity?”

“Mm?”

“For the keys to work, they have to be outside of my pocket.”

Oh God! Felicity yanked them out, her whole face burning. What the hell was wrong with her?

The other woman chuckled. “Okay, it’s the big key, second on the left of the ring. Thanks.”

With hands shaking for reasons she had absolutely no intention of examining, Felicity managed to get the key into the lock on the first attempt and turned it until it clicked. Then she drew the door open, and Cooper pushed past her, dropping the bags just inside.

“Thanks.” She wiped her forehead, which left a huge smear of dirt, then slapped the dust off her oak trees laughably called legs.

Felicity suddenly found the entire picture of dirt-smeared imperfection the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

“Right.” Cooper straightened. She waved at the bags. “I just like to keep any food donations outside the van so they don’t get stolen or spoiled by bad weather or whatever.”

Felicity didn’t answer. Odd how the smear loaned a rakish quality to the woman’s face.

“Have I got something on my face?” Cooper asked, catching her gaze. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a man’s handkerchief to wipe it. “Gone?”

“Yes.” Felicity said faintly, feeling the loss. “All gone.”

“Right, then. Come on up. I can offer you tea or coffee while you wait for Harvey, our charity director. He’s the one to talk to about the services we offer and how to donate.”

“Or I could talk to you first. I’d like to get a feel for the whole organization. Talk to everyone. See all the facets.”

Dr. Cooper shrugged, those mighty shoulders heaving up and down.

Felicity caught herself gaping and slammed her mouth shut. Seriously inappropriate.

“Well, it’s up to you,” Cooper said. “I can tell you the practical stuff about my job, sure, but I’m due to go out again soon. Rounds. Gotta feed some good boys”—she grinned—“and good girls.”

Felicity peered at her, utterly lost.

“Dogs, Ms. Simmons. Among other animals. Are you a pet owner? Come on up.” She led the way up some old rust-stained concrete stairs.