Force of Attraction (21 page)

The registrar pinned Cole with a hostile look as several of the other participants paused to listen in.

“Very well. Since Ms. Collier is a ranked handler, her scores will count. If she wants them to.”

“That's what I thought.” Shajuanna looked over at her daughters with a triumphant smile. “What do I always say, girls?”

“No is just the opening of a ne-
go
-tiation,” they chorused together.

A cameraman, who had been crouching unseen with his lens aimed at the registration booth, stood up saying, “Got it, Shajuanna.”

Horrified by the realization that she had been caught on camera, Cole turned and hurried away.
Dumb. Dumb
. Her big mouth might just have blown her cover.

“Hey!”

Cole swung around.

Shajuanna had followed her, leaving girls and dog in the Wall's care. “Why'd you do that? Get all up in the judge's face about my participation?”

“I don't like people who switch the rules to suit their needs—or biases. I'm sorry if I butted in.”

“No. You were just what the scene needed. Disgruntled outsider saves the day. Up till then it was strictly amateur hour. I knew their policy. Still, I was worried I wouldn't be able to generate enough heat to provoke a ‘moment' for the camera.”

Cole's face fell. “You wanted an argument?”

Shajuanna laughed. “I was doing this for my girls. They haven't had much to do on our reality TV show the past few weeks and they really love shelter animals, so I wanted to make certain they would both get screen time. That's why I created the drama. Reality TV is about drama, even if you have to provoke it.”

“I guess I messed up your drama.”

“No, girl. You did good. I always reward good. In fact, if you'll sign a release, you can be on TV, too.”

Cole swallowed.
TV?
That's the very last place she wanted to be seen while she was undercover. “No, thanks. I don't feel comfortable with the idea of being on TV.”

Shajuanna subjected her to a shrewd look. “You don't want to be seen on my show?”

Cole shook her head. “It's not about your show. It's just that, well, I like my privacy. I'm sorry if I messed things up for you.”

“You didn't. My producer can do some clever editing and fuzz your features where she can't.”

“Thanks.” Cole's look of relief was genuine. “I only got involved because I don't like it when people start making up rules to suit their own purposes.”

“You're sweet. Naïve as hell but sweet. What's your name?”

Cole took a breath to recall the correct answer. “Noel.”

“Hi,
ahh
Noel.” Shajuanna mimicked Cole's breathless reply then held out her hand. “I'm Shajuanna Collier. So what do you do when you're not rescuing people from themselves, Noel?”

Cole chuckled. “Do I seem like a do-gooder? I'm a vet.”

“For real?”

“Once I've passed my licensing exam. I'm waiting for the results in October.” This rehearsed biography came more naturally. “Meanwhile, I'm hanging out, teaching a few dog obedience classes. I'm so tired of school, and not ready to work quite yet.”

“I hear that. After law school— Whoa, I saw your expression. You think a lawyer wouldn't marry a hip-hop artist? You should know, Eye-C went to Howard University, just like P. Diddy and Chris Rock. Anyway, I passed the bar but then married Eye-C so I haven't practiced in a formal way. However, I creep all over every legal document before he signs. See you later.”

Cole watched her walk away, hips moving to some inner rhythm possessed only by women supremely confident of their desirability. Cole consoled herself with the knowledge that now that they had met, she had an “in” with Shajuanna the next time they were at a competition. When she checked in with Lattimore to tell him about her luck today, she would ask him to check when her next competition was scheduled. Yardley's spur of the moment notice today had rattled her. Speaking of which, here came Yardley and Scott.

“Nice work with your objective, Noel.” Yardley patted Cole's shoulder. “I need to get back to work. You're riding back with Sam.”

Cole stared after her teacher. Yardley couldn't have known about what Shajuanna said was a last-minute decision to participate. Could she?

“Shit! I think I lost my phone.” Cole looked back to see Scott patting down his pockets.

She grinned. “Ask Hugo about it.”

*   *   *

An hour later, Cole and Hugo watched Shajuanna's team breeze through their Excellence A course. The woman had exchanged her teetering heeled sandals for sports shoes. Every eye in the park was on the curvy Amazon as she led her dog through a much more complex course than the one Cole and Hugo had run.

A little cheer went up from Shajuanna's daughters as Shujaa finished the course in record time.

Cole added her own applause. Shajuanna was the real thing, a skilled handler who loved her dog and whose dog adored her in return. That, of course, didn't prove that she wasn't a drug smuggler.

“You could beat her, with some practice.”

“I don't know about that.” Cole looked over at Scott, who had walked up with Izzy on a leash. “How was your visit with the other competitors?”

“We met some characters. Sniffed some butts. Izzy signed on medical marijuana. Nothing serious.”

Cole nodded. The chances of them stumbling across criminal acts at a competition were slim. The competition setting was Cole's chance to make personal contact with their target.

Cole gave herself points for having made a bit of progress with that. Shajuanna Collier now knew her name.

Scott bumped her shoulder with his. “By the way, you owe me an apology. Your dog's a klepto. He had my cell phone in his crate.”

“Consider yourself complimented. He only steals from those he likes. If he didn't like you, he'd have chewed it up and buried it.”

“Seriously?”

“It's a game he plays when he's bored. He takes something. You ask him to find it. He retrieves it. You give him a treat.”

Scott looked down at Hugo. “That's called extortion.”

Hugo woofed.

Cole laughed. “You hungry?”

“Starved. Let's get out of here.”

As she neared the exit with the last of Hugo's competition gear in her arms, Cole heard the name Noel being called. She turned back.

Shajuanna was walking toward her with her girls in tow. Even after running a very taxing course, she looked as fresh as she had when she arrived. Of course, her crew included a stylist.

“We need to talk.” Shajuanna glanced up as Scott approached, her gaze narrowing in appraisal.

Cole made the introductions. “Sam, this is Shajuanna Collier. Shajuanna, this is Sam.”

Shajuanna smiled at Sam like he was on the menu as the featured dish, but spoke to Cole. “My daughter Leila wants to become a junior showman competitor.” She waved the daughter in tiger-striped leggings over. “I don't have time to teach her but you do training, right? You want the job?”

“But you don't know me.”

“Oh, I'm going to have people check you out. Count on it. But you've got passion. You stand up for what you believe in. And you can't be bought. That's three giant steps forward over most people I know. You say you're free to do what you want until October. By then, Leila will be back in school. So, you game?”

“I don't know.”

Cole glanced at Sam, who shrugged. “Your time, babe.”

Play it cool, Cole told herself. “I don't know where you live. It might not be practical.”

Shajuanna nodded. “True enough. I live in the greater Baltimore area.”

Cole smiled, eyes going wide in fake surprise. “So do I.”

Cole turned to Leila. “My name's Noel. Would you like to have me show you some beginner techniques for the ring?”

Leila looked up at her mother. “Would that get me more airtime?”

“No.”

Both mother and daughter turned their heads to stare at Cole, who had spoken.

Cole kept her focus on Leila. “Learning to be a handler is first about your love of dogs and a commitment to learning how to teach your dog how to compete. If it's just for the camera I won't teach you.”

Shajuanna tapped her daughter on the shoulder. “Looks like you found someone as demanding as me.”

Leila shrugged, her gorgeous brown eyes throwing sparks. “I guess, in the beginning, it would be okay. But when I compete, I want it on TV.”

“You get that good and we'll see.” Shajuanna offered Cole her hand. “Deal?”

Cole took it. “How about a trial period? Two weeks. Let's see if Leila and I hit it off.”

Shajuanna nodded. “She'll need five lessons a week. Three hours a day. Will a thousand a week cover it?”

“Whoa. Daily training is good but three hours a day is too much for a beginner.”

Shajuanna gave her a shrewd look. “I'm covering your travel time to and from your home, plus an hour lesson. You need to start thinking like a business person. For instance, you should have asked extra for travel. Or asked me to put you up somewhere for the five days a week I'm hiring you for so you don't have to travel. We can renegotiate after the two weeks.” She whipped a card out of her bag. “Monday, say eight
A.M.
?” Both Leila and Cole protested. “Fine. Ten
A.M.
What's your cell?”

Cole waited until mother and daughter were out of earshot before she spoke. “This is all happening way too fast.”

Scott grinned at her. “Sometimes it happens like that. Be grateful. It will get hard.”

Cole stared at Shajuanna's card. “She said she's going to check me out.”

“That's what a backstory is for. Lattimore's ready.”

They finished stowing Hugo's items and made certain Hugo was settled in beside Izzy then climbed in for the drive back.

Cole reached for her seat belt. “I like her.”

“That's a rookie mistake.”

Scott didn't continue until he had exited the parking lot. “This isn't real life. You're playing a role. Your job is to get close to people, maybe bad people. You get to know them. You may begin to understand how they view things. It starts to make a certain kind of sense, even if they're criminals with blood on their hands.”

He glanced at her, his expression serious. “But at the end of the day, if the people you've come to know and even like are dirty, your job requires that you betray the trust they've put in you. You need to be ready for that.”

Cole was silent.

Scott pulled off the road when he spied a burger place and drove through the takeout lane.

Cole didn't realize how hungry she was until she had finished her burger and was working on a mouthful of fries. “So what now?”

Scott didn't look at her. “Lattimore called this morning. Our new residence is ready. Looks like we start playing house tomorrow.”

Cole looked away. Oh yeah. That.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“You got a license for that?”

Cole spun around to face the bathroom door. She hadn't heard a sound. Nor had Hugo reacted to the presence of someone in the apartment. “Oh, I didn't know you were back.”

Scott stood in the doorway dressed in a dark T-shirt and low-slung jeans. He didn't say anything else but there was a dark, intense look on his face. After a few seconds more, he crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, and waited. Finally, she realized why.

She stood there wearing next to nothing. A see-through lacy red bra and matching hip-hugging panties that left the lower curves of her butt exposed didn't quite count as clothing. Perhaps he thought she was about to offer him an invitation to remove those next-to-nothings. If so, he was out of luck.

“If you need to use the facilities I'll be done in a second.”

She turned away from him but the four-by-four-foot vanity mirror gave her a crystal-clear image of the very sexy, if seriously unhappy man standing behind her. His stance was deceptively relaxed. In contrast, his mouth had formed a hard line. His gaze narrowed as it tracked down her body with a single-mindedness that sent a zing of longing through her.

“You've got a wedgie.”

She reached back automatically before she could stop herself. But she let her hand slide away without adjustment. If he was trying to throw her off balance he needn't have bothered. He'd done that just by appearing.

Scott had also discovered the location of her tattoo. Below the small of her back a little red heart with delicate curlicues on either side sat just above the lacy red edge of her low-rise panties.

She picked up her brush. “Please close the door on your way out.”

“I don't think so.”

He leaned away from the jamb, moving with a deliberate slowness toward her. She knew he was trying to ratchet up her awareness factor of her half-dressed state. A rush of warmth moved up and down her torso as he came within two feet of her. It was as if the heat of their last encounter in a bathroom had followed them to the condo. Did tummies blush? She didn't dare release her gaze holding his to find out.

She put the brush down, handle rattling slightly, but she didn't turn toward him.

“How are your parents?”

“Good.”

He had taken off before dawn to drive up and check on his parents. That's what made her decide to treat herself to a grooming day—the kind of self-pampering that she couldn't do with a man around twenty-four/seven. It included deep conditioning her hair, a facial, and complete body buffing. She'd even splurged and paid to get her brows waxed, and her nails and toes done. The new undies were her little gift to self.

Now he was back.

The strain of being in close proximity without really connecting was wearing on both of them. They were police, accustomed to donning armor both real and mental to step out into the world each day not knowing what to expect. That was the job. Most days it was boring as hell. But the possibility, that's what kept the blood pumping and the adrenaline flowing, and the mind focused and set.