“Is that the only time we’re actually hands-on with the dogs, in the afternoon after classroom training?”
He pulled himself back together, forcing himself to answer. Then he focused on his notes, walked them through the class overview, answered more questions—which the object of his concentration problems did not ask because she shouldn’t even be there—and managed to introduce the next speaker, a gifted dog behaviorist, Duane Randall, who would go over the basic study of canines.
Normally, Garrett would leave the classroom at this point and go back to his office, into the training areas, or work on finding homes for rescues. But nothing was normal about today. Nothing was normal about the arrival of Jessie Curtis, journalist and onetime acquaintance.
Was she friend or foe?
He slipped into the seat behind her, the rows staggered so he could see her face and whether she wrote on the pad of paper they’d supplied. Notes about him? For a story?
After a moment, she threw a glance over her shoulder and added a smile.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in a harsh whisper.
She flinched a little, probably because of how gruff he sounded, and lifted a shoulder. “Your dad suggested I listen in.”
“Why?”
She swallowed and turned at the front of the classroom, intent on Duane’s talk. “For a story…I might do.”
As he suspected. He slipped out his phone and tapped the screen, ignoring incoming messages to go right to the Internet. He typed in “Jessie Curtis,” but nothing of any interest came up.
Maybe she wasn’t that big of a journalist. He looked up to study her profile again, and as he did, memories of the teenager she’d been drifted back. He could easily see that girl now, of course, although her face had changed, and she’d matured from pretty to really pretty. Nicely defined cheekbones, a sweet jawline, and an upward tilt to eyes enhanced with thick dark lashes.
She hadn’t had that hair color as a kid, he thought. It had been blonder then. And she hadn’t had that body, either, though she’d been on her way.
And there was that night in the old kennels. The whole evening came tumbling back as he looked at her. He’d noticed her at dinner. Really noticed her as a girl, not Molly’s ever-present friend. He vaguely recalled that something bad had happened and Mom was trying to make Jessie feel better. She was moving away and not happy about it.
Something earth-shattering that he, an almost-eighteen-year-old boy with raging hormones and a short attention span, didn’t care about. But when Molly announced it was the first night of summer, which meant the traditional game of Manhunt after dark, he didn’t pass on a silly game of hide-and-seek all over Waterford Farm. No, he finagled his way onto Jessie’s team, picked her as a partner, and…
It had taken about ten minutes of mindless chatter in the darkened kennels, with dogs barking and kids hollering outside, before they’d kissed. She’d been as ready as he was, though they didn’t take it too far. First base, he thought with a rueful smile, and that had been enough to keep him awake all night with the mother of all boners.#p#分页标题#e#
Looking away before another one decided to show up, he clicked on the search bar again, this time typing in “Jessica Curtis reporter.”
And there was the gold mine of links. Jessica Jane Curtis, staff writer, Inside the A List.
He clicked on a link and cringed.
Inside the A List? That was where she worked? A cheeseball website that did “deeply personal profiles” of famous people? And, God, look at that. She’d written dozens of those profiles, with plenty of household celebrity names peppered in the mix and a few people he’d never heard of.
His stomach clenched.
He tapped on the name of a woman who had lost weight on a reality TV show and slid past the picture and headline—and byline of Jessica Jane Curtis—to read the opening paragraph.
The first thing you notice about Sarah Schavonne are the secrets in her eyes.
The secrets in her eyes?
“That might be a question for Garrett,” Duane said, yanking Garrett to attention. “Can you address that part of the class since you teach it?”
At his moment of hesitation, Jessie turned and looked right at him, a sly smile lifting the corner of pink lips. “Financing a dog training business,” she whispered so softly only he could hear it.
“Of course,” he said quickly, knowing he should thank her with at least a silent look, but his phone, displaying her inane writing, was still burning his palm. “We have one whole day on how you set up the business, what you need to get started, approximate investments, everything.”