Primal Force by D. D. Ayres Read Free Book Online

professional dog handler.” She smacked the folder against his chest. “You let me spend three days instructing you as if you’ve never owned a dog. I want to know why.”
    â€œMaybe I was curious about your technique.”
    â€œBut other people knew. I must look like a fool to them.”
    â€œYou’ve nothing to be ashamed of.” Those dark eyes of his were shifting over her again, as if he thought he had missed something the first two times he’d stared at her today. This time his gaze dropped all the way to her feet, where it stayed for a few seconds. “Well, maybe there’s something. Your shoes don’t match.”
    â€œSo what?” She deliberately wore one red sneaker and one yellow one.
    â€œYou wear mismatched shoes or socks every day.” His accessing gaze came back to her face. “That must mean something.”
    â€œOnly to me.”
    â€œAs long as you aren’t ashamed of it.”
    His expression softened a bit. With humor? It was the closest thing to a real conversation they’d ever had.
    He took the file from her hand and closed it. “Anything else you want to know about me? Ask.”
    â€œOkay.” There were things. Lots. She just couldn’t think of any of them with him standing so close.
    She backed up a step, trying to be casual as she draped her elbow on top of the file cabinet. She gained only six inches. “With your background, you could have gotten a service dog from any breeder in the country. You came here. Why?”
    His lids lowered to half-mast over the dark-gold brilliance of his eyes. “I was blackmailed.”
    Jori couldn’t imagine anyone who could force this man to do something he didn’t want to do. There had to be another reason. “Is it because we specialize in PTSD dogs?” She glanced at the file he held. “The extent of your injuries indica—”
    â€œâ€”I got blowed up. That’s not exactly news to me.”
    He dropped the folder on top of the file behind her and braced his hand beside her arm on the file cabinet, effectively enclosing her between his body and the cabinet. “Next question.”
    Jori tried to ignore his attempt to dominate her space. “Samantha’s specially trained to help with PTSD episodes. I’ve been working with her for four months so I know she’s good at her job.”
    â€œThat’s not a question.”
    â€œDo you think she’s well trained?”
    â€œVery.”
    Jori thought about that one-word answer for a second. The only way he would know that was if he had seen her in action, too. “Did you experience an episode last night?”
    He stared at her, every muscle in his face gone Mount Rushmore hard. Then he jerked his head to the left, as alert as if Kelli’s desk had reared up on hind legs and snarled at him.
    For a split second Jori didn’t understand his reaction. Then she realized she’d heard the sound, too. A pile of papers on the desktop had shifted. Nothing to alarm even Samantha. But Battise was blinking as his head swiveled slowly right and left to scan the corners of the ten-by-twelve-foot office space. Though he wasn’t touching her, she could feel the tension making his body rigid.
    She’d read about and watched other trainers working with service dogs simulate it. But she’d never seen a real exaggerated startle response in anyone.
    Samantha, ahead of Jori in processing what was going on, had risen and come over to Battise. Immediately she pushed in close to him, wedging her heavy body behind him at knee level. Battise didn’t seem to notice.
    Wanting to help, too, Jori reached out and touched him just above the elbow. His biceps was more than warm. It was almost scalding.
    â€œIt’s okay, Mr. Battise.”
    She watched his whole presence change in the wake of her words. His attention snapped back to her. He looked first at her fingers curled lightly