Three paws down. Heart still pounding.

"And Cresteds are always cold, Mr. Tobin. Did you notice the shaking?"

"Of course."

"When you, uh, acquired the dog, was he wearing any kind of sweater or coat?" She finished the last paw and stood, sighing in relief.

"A sailor suit, actually." He gazed up at her, one eyebrow arched in what Emma thought might be the beginnings of actual playfulness. "Navy blue with white trim. And a matching cap."

He was on the verge of a real smile, and in that instant, Emma realized that this somewhat slow guy was not only gorgeous, he was downright adorable! Did she see the beginnings of dimples? She felt light-headed!

"A sailor suit?"

"Yes."

But then he stood up, and any humor or warmth drained from his face, which made her inexplicably sad.

"Seems the previous owner was a complete flame… er… a flamboyant type of person. He had lots of different clothes for Hairy. Jogging suits. A leprechaun outfit. Evening wear."

Emma stared at the man in amazement. The things he said were hilarious, but he wasn't even smiling. How could a normal person not be laughing? And why did she have the strangest feeling that he was pulling her close while pushing her away at the same time? What was going on here?

As a rule, she tried her best not to alienate the owners of her patients, because she had yet to meet a dog that could sign a check. But she couldn't hold it in anymore with Thomas Tobin. She let her mouth fall open and she laughed. Loudly. It was one of her snorting laughs, too, the kind that made people look sideways at her in restaurants.

Mr. Tobin gazed at her blankly.

Emma wiped her eyes. "Okay, the thing is, Hairy needs to wear something because he's got no hair, right?"