Page 20 of Daddy's Naughty Dog Trainer

“You are the only dog trainer I’ve met in my entire life.” There's that almost-smile again. "You tell me, Jessica. Are you special?"

The question catches me off guard. "I... I'm good at what I do."

"That's not what I asked."

I look up, meeting his gaze. There's something in his eyes, a challenge, an invitation, that makes my pulse quicken.

"Yes," I say finally, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. "I think I am. Special."

His eyes darken slightly. "I think so too."

Our drinks arrive, saving me from having to respond to that loaded statement. I wrap my hands around my mug, grateful for something to do.

"Tell me something about yourself," Sean says, stirring his coffee. "Something not related to dog training."

I blink, surprised by the request. "Like what?"

"Anything. Whatever you want to share."

I consider what to tell him. "I have a teaching license. I actually taught kindergarten before I went back to school for adegree in animal behavior, but I minored in creative writing. I still write sometimes. Mostly short stories."

"What kind of stories?"

Heat rises to my cheeks. I can hardly tell him I write steamy romantic fantasies inspired by the books from the Naughty Girls Book Club. "Fiction. Character studies, mostly."

His eyes narrow slightly, as if he senses there's more to it. "I'd like to read them sometime."

"They're not very good," I deflect.

"I'll be the judge of that." He takes a sip of his coffee. "What else?"

And somehow, just like that, we're having a real conversation. I tell him about growing up with parents who fostered rescue dogs, about my tiny apartment with its postage-stamp yard, about my dreams of eventually opening my own training center. He listens with genuine interest, asking thoughtful questions.

In turn, he tells me about his work, as much as he can, given the classified nature of some of it, about growing up as the serious older brother to fun-loving Diane, about his preference for order and structure.

"I made the best Marine, you know. The Marine Corps thrives on order. For me, it's not about control for its own sake," he explains. "It's about creating an environment where I can focus on what matters."

"And what matters to you, Sean Ferguson?" I ask, leaning forward slightly.

His eyes hold mine. "Honor, courage, commitment. The core values of the Corp. After the military, I continued to serve, hoping to make America more secure. I do everything with as much excellence as I can. Everything. Interpersonal relationships included. I’m also incredibly loyal. I demand loyalty from those in my life. I only demand what I also give,” hepauses. "And lately, my interests have included a certain pink-haired dog trainer who can't seem to follow simple instructions."

I laugh, delighted by the unexpected teasing. "I followed your instructions today!"

"Today, yes." His voice drops lower. "But your track record isn't exactly spotless, is it, princess?"

The endearment, spoken so casually in public, sends a thrill through me. "Maybe I just needed the right... motivation."

"And do you have that now?" His eyes are intense, searching.

"I think I might," I admit.

“And what is the motivation? The fact that you know I will pull you over my knee and spank your pretty ass if you misbehave?”

“Something like that.”

Lucky chooses that moment to let out a pitiful whine, reminding us of his presence. We both laugh, the tension breaking.

"Someone's feeling neglected," I say, reaching down to scratch behind Lucky's ears.

---