Off the Leash

Chapter 1-3

“Sergeant Linda Hamlin. New to the Secret Service—as of today, I suppose.”

“Clive Andrews,” which still didn’t tell her who he was. He reached up from where he still squatted by Thor. His hand was warm—her fingers were freezing—and as powerful as it looked. His massive hand completely enveloped hers. That’s when she realized that he wasn’t merely big, he was immensely strong. If he was trained, she might have trouble taking him down—though she’d learned more than a few dirty tricks fending off unwanted attentions in her decade of service.

There was an easy roll to his voice that hinted at Scottish, overlaid with a soft American accent that she couldn’t pin down—which must be San Francisco. It made him sound as much of a mutt as Thor.

“Not Agent Hamlin?”

“Special Agent is separate from the Uniformed Division. The canine teams are UD; we use ranks.”

“Oh.”

Great way to build a friendship—her first potential one outside of the military in a decade—by correcting him. It did tell her that he wasn’t Secret Service or he’d have known that. Which raised the question of what he was doing on their secure base.

“And this is a White House patrol dog?” He rubbed under Thor’s chin.

She looked down at Thor’s shaggy appearance. Despite his exceptional performance, it was clear that she was going to be endlessly harassed about him. She sighed and changed the subject.

“And you are…?” Best way to appease a man, talk about him.

“The White House chocolatier.” His cheery wince said that he too was expecting a certain dismissive reaction.

When she didn’t take the bait, he merely acknowledged it with a shrug.

Again the silence was stretching… “Is there a reason a chocolatier is here at James J. Rowley Training Center?”

This time the shrug looked a little awkward as he rose back to standing, much to Thor’s dismay.

She was an expert on reading a dog’s body language. Men were a mystery to her. Well, except for a few obvious nonverbal messages that she had made it a rule to ignore. But she wasn’t getting those from Clive the Chocolatier.

“Grown men actually make their living with chocolate?”

That earned her another of his dazzling smiles, “Only the lucky ones.”

“Chocolate was never a big motivator for me.”

He slapped a hand on his heart and staggered backward as if she’d knifed him with her Benchmade Triage foldable. “You have set me a challenge, madam. I shall expect you to visit the White House Chocolate Shop at your first convenience so that I may convince you otherwise.”

“The White House has a chocolate shop? Like where you buy chocolate?” She was definitely back in civilian land. The places she’d been operating, a chow tent was a luxury and a mess hall mostly a distant dream.

He sighed and hung his head as if she was a hopeless case, which wouldn’t surprise her for a moment. But then he smiled down at her again, as cheerful as ever. He and Thor were apparently two of a kind.

“Actually, in the world of chocolate, a chocolate shop can be either a place of sale or a kitchen. Mine is a actually a chocolate kitchen. We just call it a shop.”

“Okay. Sure. Whatever. I’ll look you up if I get there.” A chill breeze flapped the piece of paper directing her to report at the White House tomorrow and made her shiver. “Okay, when I get there.”

Clive cast off his fooling around. His friendliness actually made her feel warm despite the freezing temperature. She really needed to get some gloves. Did he know how powerful that smile was on his handsome features?

Her jerk-o-meter wasn’t twitching either, which was unusual.

Then, of all unlikely things, he bowed deeply—once to her and once to Thor, the second bow accompanied by a brief head pat—before turning and heading for the parking lot.

A nice guy. One who remembered her dog. She didn’t like being charmed by any creature with less than four legs, but he’d somehow managed it.