Extreme Honor (True Heroes #1)
Piper J. Drake
To Matthew.
For believing in me. For your support, patience, and caring, thank you.
—Daisuki
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Courtney Miller-Callihan: Thank you for your confidence in me and your never-ending patience.
To Lauren and Dana: Thank you for working with me to polish this story and make it even better.
Chapter One
David Cruz studied the woman standing in the front waiting area with equal parts irritation and interest. The room had an open design to accommodate dozens of owners and their dogs comfortably—enough space to prevent tussles the humans might not be able to break up without a trainer’s help. Of course, the area was empty of other people and dogs at the moment and this little bit of trouble filled the room just fine on her own. Her neat dress suit had to have been tailored to a fit so exact, it might as well have been a military dress uniform. And she wore it as if she was ready for inspection, her posture perfect with her shoulders straight, her chin up, and her hands easy at her sides. If her thumbs lined up with the side seams on her skirt, he’d have wondered if a cadet had gotten lost from the nearby military academy.
The severe gray fabric didn’t leach color from her face, though; instead the contrast set off her peaches and cream complexion. Made him think of a dish of ice cream on a hot day. And even standing still, she radiated energy. Charisma. Like she could burst into motion at a moment’s notice and heaven help the man who got in her way. He had an urge to step right up and see if she could run him over.
Not likely, but it’d be fun to let her give it a try.
“Look, Miss…”
“Jones. Evelyn Jones.” Her sharp tone cut across his attempt to address the current issue with any semblance of calm. “Any and all documentation you might need is right there in the folder I handed you. If you’ll verify it instead of wasting both of our time trying to send me away, I’ll be able to get to what I’ve been sent here to do instead of standing around engaging in a pissing contest.”
Well, she’d come in ready for a fight.
Head held high and standing as tall as she could, her hackles would’ve been raised if she’d been a dog. The mental image was entertaining, to be honest, especially since her blond hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail combined with the stylish poofed-up effect. No idea why women did that but hell, she looked good.
And he did take a minute to appreciate her as she was: compact, curvy, and hot enough to catch the attention of every male on two legs walking the property. But her impact on the four-legged variety remained to be seen.
He could do without her glaring attempt at intimidation, though, and he wondered whether he shouldn’t send her sweet ass right on back out the door. If she crossed her arms over her admittedly impressive chest or otherwise altered her body language to increase her aggressive stance, he would. If her attitude was enough to scratch his temper, the dog she was here to see would rip her to shreds.
“Your credentials aren’t in question, Miss Jones.” He raised his hand to forestall another interruption. He’d had plenty of experience with her kind of sprint-out-the-gate, establish–credibility-immediately personality. It didn’t intimidate him one bit but he also wouldn’t be rushed. “As I was about to say, you could wait here and be run over by the incoming class of two-year-olds or you can come on in to the office area and have a cup of coffee while I make a few calls.”
She blinked and her cheeks flushed. “I…of course. A cup of coffee would be appreciated.”
Somehow, he doubted that considering the sour tone of her voice. It took some effort not to grin at her discomfort. “Glad you decided to come along. The two-year-olds aren’t a bad batch but their handlers are in some serious need of training. Go figure.”
The corner of her very kissable mouth quirked. “Isn’t it always the human side of the pair in need of the real training?”
Now, they had some common ground after all. At least when it came to civilians.
But if he wanted to be fair—and hell, who did?—Military dog handlers needed heavy training at the beginning, too. Especially if they wanted to reach the level of excellence required of a special forces working team.
He led her past the receiving desk and down a short hallway to a smaller area with chairs arranged for easy conversation. They had one of those little one-cup coffee makers and she seemed fine fixing up her own mug. He preferred his coffee brewed in a real pot and none of those handy automated gadgets managed a strong enough brew.
The whole host-and-good-manners thing dispensed, he headed for his office. “If you’ll just wait here…”