Operation Blind Date (2 page)

Chapter 2

L
aney inwardly steadied herself. It wasn’t really a lie, she told herself. Not sharing personal pain with a total stranger wasn’t lying. Maybe denying anything was wrong was, but not pouring out her heart to a man she’d never met before was simply reasonable. Even if she was disposed to see him favorably because he worked with Hayley, whom she’d very quickly come to like a great deal.

Now, Hayley’s fiancé, Quinn, was a man she’d found more than a little intimidating the one time she’d met him. But not this man, she thought. In fact, the easy smile, and the way he’d seemed so relieved when she’d refused to talk about the reason for her tears, made him seem much more approachable than his boss.

Not that he wasn’t as attractive, just in a different way. He was a bit taller than she, enough to be appreciated given her own height of five-eight. He looked lean, fit and strong. His eyes were a light, clear blue, and went well with his sandy-brown hair. And besides the nice smile, he had an easy confidence she found appealing. She even liked his haircut, buzzed close on the sides, slightly longer on the top. Ex-military? she wondered. Navy was her first thought, this being a navy region, but army and air force bases weren’t far, either.

Cutter nudged her hand again, stopping her musing and making her wonder how long she’d been standing there staring at him.

“See, he knows it’s not ‘nothing,’” Teague said.

It took her a moment to backtrack in her mind, she’d been so lost in her contemplation of the man before her. That was unlike her, and only added to her unsettled state.

“No,” she admitted, “it’s not. It’s just not something you need to hear.” She reached down to stroke Cutter’s head once more. “See you next time, Cutter. Nice to meet you, Mr. Johnson.”

She turned to head back to her office. And had to stop when Cutter darted in front of her, blocking her path. Startled, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, I’m flattered, sweet boy, but your mom’s probably missing you by now. You’d better go.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Teague said.

Laney whirled around. In her state of mind, the words almost sounded ominous. But the man’s expression was so glum and resigned any thought of being in danger from him vanished quickly. She wasn’t sure what this man did—wasn’t sure exactly what Foxworth did, for that matter—but she was sure he wasn’t a threat.

You thought that about Edward, too,
she reminded herself, the thoughts flooding back, a painful contrast to the pleasant diversion of contemplating an attractive man.
You thought he was harmless, safe to recommend to your best friend.

“Don’t let me see an expression like that and then try to convince me that nothing’s wrong,” Teague said quietly. “I may not be as smart as Cutter, but I’m not blind.”

She managed a laugh at the joke.

“I mean it. He knows when people are in trouble.”

“I’m not in trouble.” That much, at least, was true. She wasn’t the one in trouble. She was just to blame for it.

Cutter sighed audibly. This time he got up and walked behind Laney, leaned into the back of her legs the same way he’d done to Teague moments ago, an action that had amused and puzzled her. The dog was, she noted, more gentle with her.

She heard a wry chuckle from Teague and her gaze shot to his face.

“Guess he figures I’m more stubborn or more stupid, so he has to push harder,” he said, his tone matching his expression.

In spite of her worry, she smiled; she couldn’t help it.

“Look, I know this sounds crazy, but he really does know. When people have a problem, I mean.”

“I believe it. He’s a very perceptive animal. More than any I’ve ever known and I’ve known a few.”

He seemed relieved that she accepted it. “It’s even more than that. He... It’s hard to explain. He’s like a mind reader, a strategist and an early warning system all in one. He’s one of our team now, and we’ve all come to trust him, rely on him even.”

His praise of her favorite client warmed her; people who loved and respected dogs went quickly to the friend column in her book. One who realized how special Cutter was started near the top. But it was the phrase “early warning system” that made her blink.

“What exactly is it that the Foxworth Foundation does?”

“Hayley hasn’t told you?”

“She said they help people. I assumed they were some sort of charitable operation.”

“They are, when they need to be.” He seemed to hesitate, then asked, “Do you have another appointment?”

“Just with my bookkeeping program.”

He glanced at his watch, a heavy, military-looking thing with more dials than she could conceive of needing. Then he looked back at her.

“I was about to go get him a pumpkin muffin next door.”

She smiled. “He likes pumpkin muffins?”

“I think he’d bite for one. But only the pumpkin. Hayley brings an assorted box in now and then, and that’s the only one he wants.”

Laney laughed. It felt good after the morning’s grim thoughts.

“Join us for a cup of coffee.” He smiled crookedly, in a sheepish way that warmed her. “Or one of those pumpkin latte things. My weakness.”

That he could admit a liking for the flavored, frothy drink without feeling his manhood threatened was more reason to like him. And she liked his easy humor about it, too. He was racking up points quickly.

And you,
she told herself firmly,
are not keeping score. You have enough to deal with.

But she found herself saying yes anyway. After all, what harm could there be in sitting in a public place with him? She’d have to be wrong not only about him, but about Hayley, Quinn and Cutter for it to be a problem.

She knew she wasn’t wrong about Cutter.

She trusted Cutter wasn’t wrong about Teague Johnson.

* * *

Teague took another sip of the latte. It was probably a good thing they only did this seasonally, he thought, or he’d be twenty pounds overweight, or having to add five miles a day to his runs, which were already long enough.

Cutter, muffin happily consumed, had found the one spot of sunshine near the outside table and plopped down for a snooze. Now that they were talking, the dog had that mission-accomplished sort of air that Teague had learned to recognize.

“Now that’s the Cutter I know,” Laney said.

“He only seems to know two speeds,” Teague said, indicating the dog with his cup, “that, and full tilt.”

“Maybe the latter requires the former,” Laney said.

Teague smiled. And not for the first time since they’d sat down here, he felt the urge to just forget what had brought them here, to simply sit here and enjoy a few minutes with an attractive woman, without the undercurrent.

But if it wasn’t for that undercurrent, they wouldn’t be here. It wasn’t like he asked every appealing woman he ran into out for coffee. In fact, he hadn’t asked a woman out for coffee, dinner or anything else in a long time. A very long time.

“Problem with your drink?”

Her quiet question made him realize he’d been frowning. “No.” He seized on his earlier thought, since he wasn’t about to open the door on his pitiful social life. “Just thinking it’s good this is only available now.”

She smiled. “It might not be so appealing on a hot summer day.”

“Did you really use the words ‘hot summer’ while sitting here in the Pacific Northwest?”

She laughed. It was a wonderful sound, and he wondered why she didn’t do it more. Then remembered that the reason was probably why they were sitting here in the first place.

“It does happen,” she said. “A couple of years ago we nearly set a record.”

“A record heat wave here is a cold snap elsewhere,” he said; he was willing to let the chat about the weather continue, if that’s what she needed to ease into the real subject. Or maybe she’d flat-out refuse to talk about it, and he could walk away knowing he’d at least tried. Guilt-free.

“Like where you’re from?” she suggested.

He gave a one-shouldered shrug of assent. “Where I’ve spent time,” he acknowledged, and left it at that. This was not the time to speak of distant lands of heat and burning sun and sand. “But I was born in Seattle, grew up over there.” Time to do a little steering of this conversation. “You?”

“I was born in Phoenix,” she said. “But we moved here when I was two, so I practically feel like a native.”

“Family?”

“They’ve retired back to Arizona,” she said. “Dad’s building dune buggies and mom’s taking skydiving lessons.”

He blinked at that one. She apparently came by the athletic bent honestly. Laney laughed again.

“You slow down, you die. That’s Dad’s motto.”

“He’s got a point,” Teague said.

She seemed relaxed now, smiling. “I miss them, but they’re having so much fun, and they worked so hard for so long, I can’t help but be happy for them.”

“What about you? How’d you end up doing this?” he asked, indicating her shop.

“I wanted to be a vet, even started school. I wanted to help animals, but I just couldn’t deal with seeing so many sick and in pain. I had to find another way to work with them.”

“And you did.”

“It’s not as important, but it’s what I can do.”

“I’ll bet the dogs who get adopted after you spruce them up think it’s pretty important.”

She looked startled, then smiled. “Hayley told you.”

“She mentioned it, yes. She admires you for it.”

“It’s what I can do,” she said again. And he liked the quiet way she said it.
If everybody took that approach, we’d all be better off.
He watched her for a moment.

Now,
he thought. “So what is it you’re upset or worried about?”

It didn’t quite have the effect of a glass of cold water tossed at her, but it was close, and he wished he hadn’t had to do it. He realized with a little shock how much he’d been enjoying simply talking with her. Simply sitting and talking with an attractive woman was a pleasure he’d not had in too long.

“I’m not...”

Her voice trailed away. He felt a twinge of disappointment at the denial after she’d been so honest about the crying.

She tried again. “I’m not sure I should talk about it.”

Well, that was better. At least she wasn’t denying that “it” existed.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not my problem, it’s someone else’s. Maybe. Or maybe it’s not a problem at all. Except in my own overactive imagination. Everything could be fine. Could be wonderful, in fact. But I have this gut feeling there is something really wrong. But everyone else thinks I’m the one who’s wrong. So I just don’t know anymore.”

Teague felt like a guy who’d just had a jigsaw puzzle dumped at his feet, all the pieces scrambled, and he was supposed to make sense of it.

Laney laughed, as if she’d just realized how what she’d said sounded. But it was a different sort of a laugh, not charming and fun, but self-deprecating and on the edge of some deeper, darker emotion. But it cemented Teague’s notion that this was not a woman who cried at the drop of a hat, making the times when she did significant.

“I’m sorry. That didn’t make much sense, did it? I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Or say it all,” Teague said. “Whose problem is it, maybe?”

Her mouth twitched into almost a smile at his use of her own words back at her. But still she hesitated. This time he stayed silent, just looking at her, which was no hardship. She stared down into her cup, and Teague noticed the length and thickness of her eyelashes, the delicate arch of her brow, the length of her neck revealed by the pulled-back hair. Her fingers, wrapped around the cup now as if she needed its warmth even on this relatively mild day, were long and slender, tipped with nails cut short; no fancy manicures for this woman who dealt with washing animals every day.

Crazy, he thought. The most common complaint about women he’d heard from his buddies in the corps was that they never stopped talking. And here he couldn’t get this one to start. Whether that was a reflection on her, or himself, he wasn’t sure.

He was contemplating pressing harder when Cutter intervened. As if he’d sensed the lull in the conversation was a problem, the dog had roused from his nap in the sun. He looked at them both consideringly, then got to his feet and padded quietly over to Laney. He rested his chin on her knee and looked up at her. In a move that seemed and probably was automatic, Laney began to stroke his dark head.

“You are so warm from the sun,” she said to him. “That must feel good.”

The dog stared at her until she gave an odd little shake of her head. Teague knew just how she felt. He’d been on the receiving end of that steady gaze himself, and he knew the odd feeling it gave you.

“You might as well tell me,” he said after a final taste of the flavorful drink. “He’s not going to let go until you do.”

“Is that what you think he’s doing? Trying to compel me?”

“I know it is. I’ve seen him do it too many times. He’s done it to me.”

“Giving him a bit too much credit, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” Teague said wryly. “My boss is the biggest skeptic on the planet, save maybe one—well, two—and even he thinks there’s something uncanny about that dog.”

“I can’t deny he’s clever—”

“Oh, it goes way beyond clever. I could tell you stories,” Teague said. “But I promise you, he’s not going away until you talk about what’s bothering you.”

She looked from him to Cutter, then back.

“I know you don’t know me, not enough to trust me. But you can trust him.”

“I know.”

“So talk to me. You need to talk to somebody.” When she still didn’t answer, he leaned back in his chair. “I could call Hayley. Would you talk to her?”

“Oh, don’t do that. I know she’s busy, or she would have come for him herself.”

“Yes. But she trusts me with him.”

Her head came up then, and he sensed he’d finally hit the right words. “Yes,” she said softly, “she does.”

Again he stayed silent, thinking that pushing harder at this instant would be the wrong thing to do. He’d learned from Cutter that sometimes the best thing to do was just stare them down and wait.