Force of Attraction (20 page)

Scott ignored the panic in her tone, though it amazed him. “No, you can't. The Agility course is for dogs.” He pulled the course map from her hands “Hell. If he could read, Hugo wouldn't need you at all.”

Kate Winslet peeped out of her gaze. “Give the map back.”

“I don't think so. You're a natural-born competitor. You and Hugo are a team. You read each other like you've got a psychic connection. He trusts you. You trust him. You got this.”

Cole could hear his words but they weren't getting through to her mind. She reached for the map. “I need that back.”

He backed away from her, holding it higher than she could reach. “Tell you what. I'll walk the course with you and you can explain it to me.”

Cole nodded, mostly because she didn't want to get into a physical struggle with him she knew she couldn't win.

They walked the course with the other handlers for fifteen minutes. By the time they exited, Cole was silent but feeling a bit more calm.

They went back to get Hugo.

Once on the leash, Hugo remained aloof from the other dogs, some barking and yipping with excitement, too certain of his alpha status to get caught up in the noise of those intimidated by strangers and unfamiliar animals.

Scott leaned against the crate and watched Cole continue to study the map as if it contained the answer to some cosmic mystery. He'd seen SWAT team members get overfocused just before a bust. It never went well. He needed to get her mind off the map for a second or she'd blow this.

“I was a jerk to you in New Jersey.”

She looked up, gaze scattered. “Yes, you were.”

“I'm trying to apologize.”

She nodded and lowered the map. “I'm trying to hear it.”

“Your being there meant everything to my parents.”

“Your mother already sent me an e-card saying thank you.”

“How did she know how to find you?”

Cole cocked her head to one side. “We exchanged e-mails and phone numbers.”

He murmured, “I don't have that information.”

“Wonder why?”

He scowled. “Geez. You're tough.”

“Just say the words.”

“Give me—” Scott stopped himself as she raised an eyebrow. “May I please have your contact info?”

“Oh, you smooth talker, you.” She smiled before whipping out her phone so they could exchange information.

“So, that's settled.” Scott reached back to tuck his phone into his pocket. He missed and it fell onto the top of the crate but he didn't notice.

Cole was about to point out his mistake when Hugo came up. She smiled at Scott but watched as Hugo picked up the cell in his mouth. Holding it delicately he immediately made a dive for his crate. “You were apologizing for being an arrogant ass.”

Scott looked away from her but his cheek in profile popped a dimple. “I'm glad you came with me. I needed you in ways I hadn't known I would.”

“You're welcome.”

He slipped off his shades and turned back to her. For a moment his expression softened into a smile that tugged her heart. “Thank you.”

She nodded and stood up.

“Hugo is up!” The gatekeeper's cry didn't startle her this time.

Adrenaline kicked up her heart rate in anticipation of the challenge ahead. But this time it felt on-the-job familiar, not out of control. Hugo, alert to Cole's change in energy, barked twice and leaped into the air. He was ready to go.

Scott caught her hand and squeezed it. “Ready?”

Cole smiled at him. “Absolutely.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, lingering long enough this time to signal an intimacy she didn't expect. Oh, right. For the benefit of the crowd. “I trust you to do this. Go kick some doggy ass.”

Scott found a place to watch in the shade by the portable picket fencing used to cordon off the one-hundred-by-one-hundred-foot space.

“Down in front, good-looking!”

Scott glanced back over his shoulder. Two older women in sunshades and floral-print tops and white capris sat beneath portable umbrella chairs, each with a can in hand.

The redhead waved. “Nice butt, but I can't see around it. Want to back it up over here?”

Tucking in his smile, Scott and Izzy moved back from the fence toward the women.

The redhead lifted her shades. “I don't know you. You're new. Who are you?”

“Name's Sam, ma'am.”

“My name's Jennifer. This is Lorene. Want a beer?” She pointed to the cooler at their feet.

“No. Thanks all the same. You got a dog in the ring?”

“My daughter's got a boxer named Tobey. Lorene and I used to compete but these days my legs won't move as fast as they need to. Lorene's got the damned MS. So we just come for the joy of watching.” She pointed back in the direction of the parking lot. “We recently got a 2008 Winnebago Sightseer 35J. Hardly ever miss a show on the Atlantic Coast, Maine to Florida. Who are you here for?”

Scott pointed out Cole and Hugo, who were entering the ring.

“Nice dog. Cute girl. They belong to you?”

In my dreams
. But he was Sam today. “Yes, ma'am. My lady friend.”

Jennifer looked at Lorene. “He means they're sleeping together.”

She looked back at Sam. “Looks like a nice girl. So, here's a tip. If you don't treat her right you better be packed and out of town before that beast of hers knows about it. I had a friend with a daughter one time, owned one of them Bouvier dogs. She brought home a guy who didn't know how to behave. Next thing he knows her pet's got his total attention. Crotch bit, right through his ding-a-ling.”

Laughter burst from Scott before he could control it. “I'll keep that in mind.”

As they watched, Hugo flew over the first three jumps and then headed for the first tunnel. Out the other side, Hugo followed Cole's signals

“That's a lovely soft turn at that jump,” Jennifer commented.

After Hugo cleared a few more obstacles, Jennifer leaned toward Scott again. “See the way she counterrotated back toward her dog on the approach? That was a very nice backy-uppy.”

Scott held his breath as Hugo made the final turn into the jumps. When he had cleared them he came bounding back to leap into Cole's arms. Amazingly, she caught him, though she staggered around for a few seconds before releasing him.

Jennifer tugged his pants leg. “He wasn't the fastest time but he won't be at the back, either. Your lady friend's got talent. I can tell she's new at this but she'll learn.”

“Thanks for the lesson. I've got to go congratulate Noel.”

Scott tugged on Izzy's leash to urge her off but she resisted. It took him only a second to realize she was
signing,
sitting at attention as she stared intently at Lorene, who was using an electronic cigarette.

He gave a subtle hand signal for Izzy to back off. He couldn't afford to blow his cover before they'd even begun. She did but looked questioningly at him.

Too bad Izzy couldn't tell him exactly why she was signing. The older woman could be carrying any of several legally prescribed medications like oxycodone or medical-grade opiates that would be on Izzy's inventory of drugs to “sign” on when detected in a raid. Besides, Izzy wasn't one hundred percent correct every time. A record of ten percent false positives in the field was considered an excellent rating for a K-9 drug dog. They should probably just walk away. Or maybe he should confirm his suspicion.

Scott casually took up the slack in Izzy's leash as he eyed the woman. “What flavor are you smoking, Lorene?”

Lorene's eyes widened guiltily before she glanced uncertainly at her friend.

“You into vaping?” Jennifer asked quickly.

Scott shook his head. “But Lorene sure looks like she's enjoying herself.”

Jennifer tried to wiggle up out of her slinglike chair then gave up and waved Scott over to her. When he was close enough she pulled him down by the arm so she could whisper. “Lorene uses THC vapor to help control her spasms from MS. They've been giving her fits this morning. It's legal where she bought it but not everywhere so don't give us away, okay?”

Scott held up his hands. “None of my business.”

Jennifer grinned and turned to Lorene. “I told you he's a good guy. I can always spot 'em.”

At that moment, there was a rustle of interest at the opposite side of the ring by the parking lot. The deep bombastic beat of 808 basses shattered the day as the hip-hop sounds of Eye-C blared from some unseen place.

A few seconds later, the music died and Scott watched the crowd part for a woman in a radically cropped tee and batik-printed drawstring harem pants hanging off spectacular hips and showing lots of toned caramel skin stretched over smooth abs. Shajuanna Collier was in the house.

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“What do you mean I can't participate?”

Cole, who was signing off as having completed the ring course, looked up in amazement. Shajuanna Collier, the person she was tasked with befriending, was standing next to her.

Shajuanna pointed at the registrar inside the booth and then pointed that same sequin-studded fingernail at the paperwork in her hand. “Shujaa is listed to compete in the Excellent A Agility level.” She pointed to the dog at heel on her leash. “Shujaa is here. I am here. We are ready.”

Cole glanced past the striking woman to the Argentine mastiff named Shujaa. People found Hugo intimidating, with cause. But this was a different kind of brute. A hundred pounds of muscle budged beneath its short pure-white coat, leaving no doubt the jaws in his massive head could easily snap the bones of the toy poodle being hurried past in its owner's protective embrace.

However, Cole noted, Shujaa seemed at ease. That could be because he and his owner were accompanied by a seven-foot-tall wall of muscle in a suit.

Cole flicked her gaze back to the registrar, who responded. “The rules state that the team handler must come in person to pick up his or her registration so that the judges can review the dog for eligibility.” She was eyeing Shujaa with some trepidation.

Again, Shajuanna tapped her papers. “Show me where that is written.”

Another woman behind the counter with a cap of gray curls pulled at the registrar's elbow. “Excuse me.” Moving a little away, they whispered together.

Cole caught only a few words. “Vicious animal” and “criminal” among them. Curious about the outcome, and hoping it might provide the opportunity she needed to meet Shajuanna, she didn't move away from the booth.

When the registrar returned, her expression was stiff. “It's more a policy. An unwritten policy. Which we abide by. I'm sorry.”

“Not as sorry as Bravo is going to be.” Shajuanna flung a handful of shiny straight black hair back over her shoulder as she glanced toward the parking lot. “See that? We brought a full camera crew and a producer to do a piece for my reality show,
Shajuanna's Swag-Grr
. We're on cable so I know you've heard of it.”

The women followed her gaze to where a crew of ten were streaming into the park carrying an array of bulky black cases as well as chairs and a folded-up tent.

Shajuanna looked back at the registrar. “This is a fund-raising event, isn't it?”

The registrar blinked behind her glasses. “Yes, for our local county animal rescue shelters.”

“I'm all about animal shelters and rescue. My sweet baby Shujaa was a rescue.” She bent over to pat her pet on the head, snaring the eyes of men standing nearby who noticed how her top gaped away from her chest.

When she stood up again she turned away from the booth to address the curiosity seekers who had started to gather. “I'm a passionate advocate for animals other people would kick to the curb. So are my girls.”

She signaled to her bodyguard and he produced from behind him two young girls. One wore tiger-striped leggings and a chiffon top, the other was in jeans with a sleeveless white military vest. They both wore identical worshipful expressions as they gazed at their mother.

Shajuanna shifted them in front of her. “Leila and Miya are the ones who told me about your event and encouraged me to participate in order to provide you with PR. I'm supposed to be on a flight to L.A. But here I am, trying to help out your event for a good cause.” She looked back over her elegant shoulder at the registrar. “But if you don't want your event to be on TV or the teams competing here today interviewed so that lots more people know about the good work you do … oh well.”

Shajuanna gathered up Shujaa's leash. “Come on, baby. We'll have to find an arena where shelter dogs are really welcome.”

“Wait a minute.” The registrar looked back in surprise at her adviser, who had spoken up.

The older woman stepped forward, her face bright pink beneath her gray curls. “Since you're here to help promote our good cause, we should be able to see our way past this hiccup. We could list you as a celebrity guest. That way, you can do your show and our policy remains in place.”

“Just a minute.” Cole, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping, moved in closer. “Are you saying that her team's score won't count?”

The registrar eyed Cole with a cool glance. “Under these circumstances, no.”

Cole felt her temper building at the woman's superior tone. “I don't know squat about your polices but I do know that this person paid the entry fee and so her scores should count.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way, miss. But no.”

“Then expect a complaint to be filed with the Agility association.” Cole let her voice rise so that passersby could hear her. “Everyone knows Ms. Collier is a nationally ranked Agility handler. You accepted her qualifications. If you can make her scores ineligible based on some arbitrary rule that isn't even written down, how do we entrants know you won't do something unethical with our scores?”