Irresistible Force (A K-9 Rescue Novel)(14)

"When is the last time you had a meal?" she asked, as if she had read his mind.

A corn bread muffin paused halfway to his mouth. "Yesterday. I was too  busy trying to keep my ass out of a sling today to think about food.  According to the sheriff's office and my sergeant, I broke enough rules  today to get me fired."

"Sounds intense."

He shook his head. "If I was in serious trouble I'd have been sent home by escort."

"That kind of stuff happen to you often?"

"Never before."

James put his muffin down and gave her a level look. "I'm a by-the-book  police officer. You don't make the K-9 unit unless you're above average  in performance. That's not a boast. It's a fact. I made it on my first  try. Even harder. What happened here today, that was about Bogart."

"What about Pri-Bogart?"

James felt deep emotion push up through his police armor of professional  distance when he thought about how long and hard he'd searched for his  partner.

Embarrassed, he took a long gulp of his iced tea. He remembered being  told the first day of training that when a K-9 officer served what was  often a graveyard shift, night after night, just you and your dog, a  bond of mutual respect and interdependence developed as tight as with  any human partner. He and Bogart lived alone, ate alone, patrolled  alone. How to explain a connection like that and not sound obsessive?

Then he remembered how fond she'd grown of Bogart in their few weeks  together and knew he would be revealing their relationship to a  sympathetic listener. Even so, he found himself staring at his plate as  he spoke.

"He's not a pet. I mean, Bogart's my friend and I take care of him, feed  him, and I enjoy his company off duty. But he's really something  special. Not one dog in a thousand can do what he does and do it as  well, every time he's asked. He's tenaciously loyal and I completely  trust him. He would die for me so I try to make certain that won't occur  because of a mistake I made. I'd give my right arm to protect him."

He glanced at her to see the effect his words were having. She was still looking at him expectantly.

"I don't expect you to understand but when I saw him last night, alive  after I thought he could be dead  …  Something snapped." He ran a hand  across his mouth. "I'm not proud of it."

"That's some speech. You practicing it on me for your sergeant?"

That forced a chuckle from him. "How'd I do?"

"I'd cut the ‘right arm' crap. Sounds lame." She reached for the last oyster on his plate and stuck it in her mouth.

He smiled, almost accustomed to her contrariness after a day of exposure.

"Who is the woman who stole him from you?"

James shrugged. "A mistake. You ever make a mistake in a relationship?"

She glanced away at that. "All the time."

"If you want, next time I see this Eric guy I can clear up any misunderstanding about our relationship."

"We don't have a relationship."

"No?" He forked a last mouthful of peas and rice into his mouth, his gaze never leaving her face.

Shay felt a quiver run through her. From the moment she met him, she'd  thought James Cannon was one unemotional son of a gun, except where his  partner was concerned. But gazing across less than two feet of space  into eyes so ridiculously blue they made her think of heat-blasted  summer skies, she knew she'd made a mistake. Behind the cool law  enforcement exterior, there was a lava flow of emotion held in check by a  cocky grin. At the moment, all of that was directed at her.

Run. You don't need this. You can't handle it.

Needing to put distance between them, she picked up their plates and  carried them to the sink before she spoke again. "You should be getting  on the road."

James nodded and tossed Bogart the last bite of his muffin. "You're a  great cook. Don't know when I've eaten better. Only I won't tell my  sister Allyson."                       
       
           



       

"You have lots of family?" She didn't know why she asked when she was trying to get rid of him.

"Yes. Three sisters. All older, all married. So, two nephews and two  nieces, plus my folks. And that's just the immediate family. You?"

"No one." She busied herself scraping plates with nothing left on them. "Mom died three years ago. Cancer."

"I'm sorry to hear that. So, what do you do?"

She shrugged. She knew she shouldn't have started another conversation.  It had just spawned questions she didn't want to answer. That's what  cops did, ask questions.

But he was persistent. "What do you do for a living?"

Her expression flattened out as she turned around. "Nothing special."

James came to his feet. Obviously the casual chitchat was over. Still, his ever-professional gaze narrowed in on her posture.

She was leaning her hips against the sink, a seemingly relaxed pose. But  she was also twisting a dishrag between her hands as if she were trying  to strangle it. Intuition said she was hiding something more than  anxiety over Eric. She certainly didn't like to answer even the most  casual question. Experience said that he wasn't going to find out why.

Sometimes you hand them your card and walk away.

He pulled one of his professional cards out of a pocket and held it out. "You have any more trouble, don't hesitate to call."

She came forward and took it in two fingers, careful not to touch his hand.

James shook his head and turned toward the living room.

"What are you going to do about your ex taking your dog?"

James looked back over his shoulder. Trust her to go to the heart of his  remaining problem. "I'll have to give that some thought."

"She's pretty. You'll probably forgive her."

He didn't respond but the change in his expression made Shay suddenly a  little sorry for the woman who would have to face this man.

She glanced over at Bogart.

But not that sorry.

She bent down to hug him one last time.

James saw the telltale sheen of unshed tears when she rose to her feet.  Damn. He wished he could offer her something as consolation but he knew  better than to sympathize with her again. "You should think about  replacing Bogart with a dog of your own."

"No one can replace him."

"Right. But if you decide to look for real protection, you're going to  want a dog trained to act on command. You weren't getting half the use  you could have outta him. Want me to show you?"

She jutted out her chin. "What would be the point? You're taking him away from me."

James was rendered silent. It was those deep-set eyes framed by her  bangs. Even though her mouth was saying back off, her gaze was  vulnerable, heartbreaker sweet. Naturally, something stupid popped into  his head.

"Tell you what. It's Saturday night. We don't have to be back on duty  until Monday evening. Why don't you keep Bogart until tomorrow? Say your  good-byes."

She studied his face for several seconds, trying, he suspected, to  figure out where the trap lay in that offer. She must be accustomed to  disappointment. "Where will you sleep?"

He glanced at his watch, hiding a smile. "Charlotte's less than three  hours away. I can still make it home in time to catch the end of a  ballgame on TV."

"You'd drive all the way back here tomorrow to pick him up?"

He racked his brain, trying to figure out why he'd opened his mouth in  the first place. But now that he'd done it, he didn't want to argue.

"Feed him in the morning, early, and then again about eleven A.M. He's  off his schedule and it's important that he be back on it by the time  we're on duty Monday night."

He turned and reached for his backpack, which he'd left by the kitchen door.

"Wait!"

It was only a whisper of a breath but James felt the fear in her voice  slide up his spine like ice. And then he heard it, the faint creaking of  floorboards on the porch, almost drowned out by the music.

He glanced down first at Bogart, who stood expectant but not at full  alert. Then he looked back at Shay. She stared past him at the cabin  door, eyes wide. He turned his head in that direction as Bogart issued a  low growl. The front doorknob was turning slowly.

James motioned her back with one hand as his other went for the Sig P239  he'd tucked into a pancake leather holster attached to his belt in  back. He watched the doorknob jiggle as someone tried to force it open.  If this was Eric again, he wasn't going to be restrained in his  response.

The hard rap of knuckles on the door made them both jump.                       
       
           



       

"Ms. Appleton! Shay, you in there?"

The voice of Deputy Ward came loud and clear through the wooden door.

"Yes!" Shay expelled the word in a harsh breath but her face was bloodless and she seemed rooted to the spot.