The Everywhere Man Read online

  ‘Well, you’re none the worse for your experience, I see,’ the man said softly, kneeling to run his knuckles over Nick’s head and then scratch him softly behind the ears. He was rewarded with a friendly wuffle-wuffle-wuffle, and Alix could have kicked him.

  ‘Nick ... heel!’ she ordered grimly, and gained a measure of satisfaction when the dog quickly picked himself up and trotted round to sit by her left leg.

  ‘Pity they docked his tail so short; he isn’t a bad-looking specimen otherwise,’ the tall man observed casually, and Alix immediately bristled in the dog’s defence despite her knowledge that the comment was a fair one.

  ‘It’s just right,’ she countered hotly. ‘Certainly it hasn’t stopped him from winning most of his classes so far. He’s already qualified as an Australian Champion.’

  ‘Don’t get all huffy; it was only a personal opinion,’ he replied calmly. ‘How’s he doing in obedience work?’

  ‘He’s one qualification short for his CDX title, and he should have that today,’ she replied proudly, and just a little saucily.

  ‘You sound pretty confident,’ he said, raising one dark eyebrow suspiciously. ‘Got the judge in your pocket or something?’

  ‘I resent that!’

  ‘Oh? You wore that rather sexy track suit to impress the other dogs, did you?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It isn’t at all sexy,’ Alix replied, seeing her own lie reflected by the gleam of appreciation in his eyes. The soft cloth of the outfit moulded her slender body quite attractively and she knew it, but impressing an obedience trials judge was the last thing she would have considered, ‘I only wore it because it’s warm,’ she concluded, flushing slightly at the quirky little grin he threw her.

  ‘Just as well, because I happen to know that the open division judge today wouldn’t be swayed even by you,’ he said. ‘Just as well you aren’t in Novice, though. That judge is a woman, and she might take exception to being shown up by a competitor.’

  ‘Really? And tell me, who are you trying to show up?’ Alix responded rather tartly. Certainly his expensive tweed jacket, combined with equally expensive slacks and leisure boots and even a necktie, seemed rather out of place in this setting.

  Most of the men were in jeans and T-shirts or shorts and running shoes, with the female competitors similarly attired. A substantial number of Bundaberg Obedience Dog Club T-shirts revealed a good working group of stewards and officials.

  ‘I have no need to show anyone up,’ the tall man replied icily. ‘Especially since I’m not competing,’

  ‘What a pity,’ Alix sneered. ‘I’m sure the lady judge in Novice class would have been suitably impressed. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to run Nick through that exercise a few times yet.’

  ‘Be my guest,’ he replied lightly. ‘But if he comes into the trial bored out of his mind, don’t say I didn’t warn you. And while you’re at it, you might try leaning forward a bit when you give him the ‘drop’ signal. Waving your arm as high as you are seems to be part of his problem.’

  ‘Thank you very much, but I hardly think I need any advice from you,’ she replied carelessly. ‘We’ve been doing just fine so far without it.’

  ‘Your privilege,’ he replied, turning away. ‘And good luck.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Alix replied, suddenly a little ashamed at having been so brusque. But he did manage to raise her hackles, this fellow. Just her luck to have him show up here, of all places! What bothered her even more was that he might be right, but when she glanced across the field he was standing, watching her, so she defiantly ignored all his advice and tried to forget it as the loudhailer called all competitors to get ready.

  She arrived just in time for the introduction of the day’s judges, and her astonishment at seeing that man introduced as one of them faded quickly to despair with the realisation that he would be judging the Open class. Her class! Quinn Tennant, his name was; that much Alix was certain of. But did she only imagine the saucy wink he casually dropped when he caught her staring at him, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment?

  ‘How do I get myself into these things?" she moaned half aloud, oblivious to the curious stares her comment drew from several other competitors. Alix was fifth in a class of twelve, and by the time the first three were finished, her worst fears had been realised. This man was a tough judge.

  She saw a splendid German Shepherd zeroed for sitting just a little bit crooked after returning from his retrieve, and a Doberman who gave the judge a dirty look during the ‘Stand for Examination’ paid for it in points. How would he regard Nick’s invariably over-friendly reaction to the examination? she wondered.

  She hardly noticed the fourth competitor’s performance, too busy building up problems in her mind, and when her number was finally called, she moved towards the ring with less confidence than she had ever felt before.

  The green track suit, so comfortable only moments before, suddenly seemed to turn into an oven, and she was conscious of its clinging to her every curve. Not that this Tennant man seemed to mind; he was regarding her with a smile that seemed to Alix to portray an advanced case of lechery, and the knowledge that it was all in her own mind didn’t help a bit.

  During the fast-pace heeling exercise, her lack of a bra suddenly seemed the height of folly, and her concentration wavered between keeping an even pace for Nick and trying to slow the movement of her breasts. Quinn Tennant merely grinned encouragingly, or so it must have looked to the spectators. Alix knew he was enjoying her discomfiture almost as much as the movement of her body.

  Her nervousness was communicating itself to Nick, which was perhaps the worst part of it all. Alix kept having to stop herself from looking down to see if he was even still with her, and if she had suddenly found him sitting by the judge’s side, it would have been no surprise at all.

  Quinn Tennant gave her his instructions in exactly the same tone of voice he had used for those before her, but in Alix’s ears the voice insinuated things that certainly didn’t belong in any obedience trial. Oh, damn you, she thought. It’s all deliberate on your part. You know very well you’re getting to me, and you’re enjoying every bit of it.

  She was so busy hating him she almost missed his instruction about the drop on recall, and he was forced to ask twice if she was ready. ‘Y—y—yes,’ she finally stammered, fuming inwardly at the complacent, smug grin he gave her.

  She knew before she had even left Nick that it wasn’t going to come off. He was sitting properly, but the big dog’s eyes were flicking from side to side as he waited for the command, and Alix cringed inside.

  ‘Call him,’ came the instruction, very quietly spoken.

  Alix waved her arm. ‘Come!’

  ‘Drop him.’

  She threw every ounce of willpower into the command, even stooping slightly as she had been advised. ‘Drop!’ she screamed, loud enough to be heard in Melbourne.

  And miracle of miracles, Nick dropped like a stone, only his stub of a tail flickering his impatience with the command Alix knew he considered illogical.

  ‘Call him.’

  She did, and the great dog thundered forward with such velocity Alix half expected to be knocked off her feet.

  ‘Exercise complete,’ Quinn Tennant said in his judging voice, and then, under his breath as Alix passed him, ‘Glad to see you take advice sometimes.’

  She went rigid, knowing she didn’t dare to reply. And through the remainder of the exercises she held herself under strict control, not meeting his eyes for fear she would say something regrettable. Nick bounced through the retrieves without a hitch, cleared the broad jump easily and correctly, and finished the first part of the programme with the highest score thus far. If he could just hang on through the ‘stays’, he would have his third qualification without any problems, and Alix spent the time the rest of her class was being tested walking the big dog back and forth to settle him down.

  They went in as a class for the ‘sit-stay’, and when the handlers
had left their dogs and gathered out of their sight behind the canteen, the owner of the highest-scoring German Shepherd complimented Alix on her dog and her luck with Quinn Tennant.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she replied. And then, ‘Oh! He doesn’t fancy GSPs, you mean?’

  ‘No such thing,’ the young man replied. ‘They’re about the only breed he does like, which makes him tougher on them because he expects them to be superior. If you get through this your dog’ll be the first GSP I’ve ever seen Tennant qualify.’

  ‘Oh,’ replied Alix, wondering if the sudden unease that shot through her like an electric current was revealed in her face. ‘Well, maybe I’ll be lucky. Nick usually never falters in the stays.’

  And when they returned, finally, at the steward’s direction, she was uncommonly relieved to find Nick sitting, just as ordered, and showing no sign of movement. Alix praised him mightily after the exercise had been declared complete, but half her mind was on the tall man whose green eyes had drunk in her every movement as they had walked back into the ring.

  More and more, she regretted having worn the clinging track suit, because after they had dropped the dogs and again left the ring, this time for a full five minutes, she could feel Quinn Tennant’s eyes following her, undressing her both in his mind and her own.

  When the young man with the German Shepherd offered Alix a cigarette as they waited through the five minutes that dragged like five hours, she took it, fumbled it nervously and dropped it in the sand.

  ‘Hang on; steady up,’ he said kindly. ‘I’m sorry if I upset you with what I said.’

  ‘It isn’t that,’ she replied, no longer trying to hide her nervousness. But she didn’t continue; how could she possibly reveal to this stranger the unsettling effect that another stranger was having on her?

  She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the out-of-sight commotion that confirmed at least one of the dogs had broken his long drop, and something inside her screamed at the knowledge that it had been Nick. Of course the handlers weren’t allowed to know which dog it was, not until they returned to the ring and could sec for themselves.

  Alix shuddered, remembering a trial in Melbourne when one dog had unaccountably lifted from his stay and walked the entire line of competitors, each of them rising to follow him until the entire class had been disqualified. Usually, a steward would attempt to prevent such an occurrence, but on that fateful occasion the judge had forbidden it, saying it was no more than another element to the test itself.

  Finally they were called back to the ring, and Alix’s heart-stopping relief that it hadn’t been Nick who had broken was immediately displaced by the realisation that Quinn Tennant was once again watching her. The bright green eyes were alive with a deliberate masculine assessment, one that became even more disconcerting as Alix was forced to swivel her hips through the homemade turnstile into the trial grounds.

  She moved with one eye on Nick and the other on Quinn Tennant, whose smile seemed to be aimed at her alone. The grin widened as she stumbled, throwing out one arm to regain her balance as she lurched forward until she could almost touch the ground with her fingers.

  ‘Oh!’ The cry was involuntary, but the ‘damn!’ that followed was quite deliberate.

  Alix didn’t need to hear Nick’s low growl of instinctive protection; she saw from the corner of her eye the deliberate tensing of his muscles as he eased himself half upright, then slowly subsided into the drop position again as Alix regained her own balance and her place in line.

  Disqualified! There was no room for doubt, because even as she glanced up to see if Quinn Tennant had noticed, the cocked eyebrow revealed that he had. The rest was a foregone conclusion, although of course Alix went through the formality of finishing off the exercise, glaring defiantly at Quinn Tennant as she did so despite the sinking feeling of despair that filled her stomach.

  She wasn’t surprised to see the zero go up on the score board after her number, but Quinn Tennant’s ‘Hard luck,’ after they had left the ring was sufficiently unsympathetic to gain him a snarled reply.

  ‘It wasn’t Nick’s fault,’ she declared angrily. Damn, damn, damn! Nick had done everything else properly, had even ignored the distraction of another dog breaking his stay — a move which had drawn six of the twelve competitors into disqualification. For him to be disqualified for a perfectly understandable reaction was just ... just unfair.

  Alix could have cared less about not qualifying. Much as she enjoyed obedience work, it was the pleasure of working with her dog that provided the real pleasure, not the titles and trophies. Still, it was damnably unfair. And doubly so because of Quinn Tennant’s attitude.

  ‘My dear girl,’ he said in a tone that could only be described as totally condescending, ‘it is never the dog’s fault. Surely even you must realise there are no bad dogs, only bad handlers.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t have tripped if you hadn’t ...’ Alix stopped, unable to bring forth her accusation. What would it sound like, discounting the obvious counter-charge of vanity, conceit and a deliberate attempt to sway the judge?

  ‘If I hadn’t? If I hadn’t what?’ Quinn Tennant’s voice held a tone of amused scorn that only served to make Alix even more angry, but not quite enough to make her answer. So he did it for her.

  ‘I suppose you were going to say if I hadn’t been watching you. And why shouldn’t I? Or do you intend to maintain your fictitious claim that you wore that outfit only to keep warm?’

  ‘That’s despicable! I always wear a track suit to compete, at least in winter. And besides, there are several other girls wearing them today, and I don’t hear anybody complaining.’

  ‘You don’t hear me complaining either,’ he replied with a malicious grin. ‘I think it’s rather fetching; I just hope it doesn’t shrink the first time you wash it.’

  ‘What ... what are you talking about?’ Alix stammered. But she knew, even before he reached out to take her by the shoulders and turn her around. She felt his fingers brushing past her bottom and then his hand reached over her shoulder to wave the evidence in front of her horrified eyes.

  ‘And worth every penny,’ he said very softly, dangling the price tag until Alix reached up angrily to snatch it from his fingers.

  Her face burned. She had to force herself to turn and meet his eyes once again: Her mind raced like an engine out of gear; she was mortifyingly embarrassed at the thought of having paraded through the entire morning in a track suit with the price tag hanging from the back. And he had known it all along, she suddenly realised. He would have seen it when he came up behind her out on the field, long before hardly anyone had shown up, at a time when he could have told her.

  Quinn Tennant didn’t bother to hedge around it. ‘Yes, I knew,’ he admitted with a blatant lack of concern.

  ‘Well, you might have told me!’

  ‘Why? None of my business. And I’ve already had a substantial share of your reaction to advice,’ he replied. ‘And besides, how was I supposed to know it wasn’t deliberate?’

  He caught her swinging hand only inches from his face, gripping her wrist in a clamp of iron fingers that didn’t hurt her, but kept her so totally immobile that he could stare down into her angry eyes and half-open, gasping lips. And Nick, who had been so eager to defend her earlier that he had disqualified himself, now sat traitorously at ease beside her, tail twitching happily as if he, too, was enjoying the spectacle.

  ‘And don’t curse, either,’ Quinn Tennant cautioned her. ‘I don’t like girls who swear.’

  ‘You ... let ... me ... go ... or I’ll scream the place down around your ears!’ Alix hissed through tight-clenched teeth. ‘I’m sure it would do your reputation the world of good to be seen abusing a woman.’

  ‘Stop being bloody ridiculous,’ he snapped, cutting off her threat in mid-sentence. ‘Who’s going to pay the slightest bit of attention to a disgruntled competitor arguing with the judge? Now if I were to do a little debt collecting …’

&
nbsp; Again, that horribly mocking grin. And as he moved his head infinitesimally toward her, Alix recoiled as if he were going to hit her.

  ‘You ... you ... bastard!’ she hissed.

  ‘I’m not, you know,’ he replied with a broad grin, then released her hand and stepped quickly back out of range. Then his eyes took on a distinctly kindly expression and he asked softly, ‘Is winning really all that important to you?’

  How to answer? For some reason Alix felt a deep inner longing to simply admit the truth. It didn’t matter a whit, although she was honestly sorry that the disqualification, while legitimate, was solely her own fault. But to admit that to this arrogant, mocking man ...?

  ‘I ... I just don’t like to see Nick suffer for something that wasn’t his fault,’ she replied somewhat lamely. And he laughed.

  ‘Nick suffer? Oh, come now. He isn’t going to suffer at all. Unless of course you’re the type that goes off and beats their dog for human mistakes.’

  His lips twisted in a wry grin. ‘No, Nick isn’t going to suffer. Why should he? He only did what he thought was right. The only suffering there’ll be is to your own pride, my girl, because the mistake was yours. And you know it and I know it and everybody else knows it. So why not forget it? If you must get all flustered about the whole thing, just try and remember next time to watch where you’re going. If you’d paid more attention to that and less to me, you wouldn’t have had the problem in the first place.’

  ‘You’re obviously convinced that I only stumbled because I was watching you,’ Alix replied scathingly. ‘Personally, I think that’s horribly conceited and arrogant of you.’

  ‘Probably. But it isn’t important,’ he replied with great aplomb. ‘Now come and I’ll buy you a coffee before they start the U.D. trials, which I very much want to see.’

  ‘I’ll buy my own coffee,’ she snarled, but he already had reached out to take her by the arm and escort her toward the canteen, and despite Alix’s unobtrusive attempts to free herself, he kept his grip and moved her along with him as if she belonged there, not releasing her until they had joined the crush at the canteen.