Blame It On The Dog. Amy Frazier

than the regular league. Anything to burn off preteen angst. And Savannah’s suddenly crazy for junior ballroom dancing, can you believe it?”

      “How do you juggle work, school—” Bailey had just recently enrolled in a local business college “—and the girls’ activities?” Selena asked.

      Derrick grinned. “We tag-team.”

      There it was again. That pairs thing.

      “Hey, speaking of teams,” Derrick added, “did you hear Robert wants to get a Margo’s Bistro softball team going this season? There’s a sign-up sheet at the counter.”

      Maybe she’d join. Sometimes the solution to life’s little aggravations was to whack something.

      Driving the short distance home, Selena admitted to herself her friends had come close to being right on two counts. Drew probably would benefit from a mastery of Axel, who outweighed him. And, although she didn’t want to waste time and energy exploring this troubling fact beyond acknowledging its existence, a very, very, very—did she mention very?—tiny part of her did find Jack Quinn attractive. But the truth didn’t make it any easier to take the next step. To entrust her dog, let alone her son, to Quinn’s regimented course of action.

      She’d told Sam and the Animal Control officer they’d consulted a dog behaviorist, and that had assuaged the greengrocer’s rage. But she didn’t tell him Quinn hadn’t actually worked with Axel. If Axel’s behavior didn’t improve, Sam and the rest of her neighbors weren’t going to stay mollified.

      But, oh, how Quinn had looked at her yesterday. As they’d walked in the intimacy of the fog, he looked as if, at any moment, he could have eaten her up. And she’d felt strong enough to resist until he’d told her he’d seen one of her installations. And he’d gotten it. He knew what it was. He even knew how he was supposed to interact with it without being told. A man that perceptive could prove dangerous.

      Dangerous even without the addition of a hard body, a luxurious head of dark wavy hair and chiseled features. Not that she’d noticed what he looked like.

      She was prevented from dwelling on the unnerving Mr. Quinn by the necessity of searching out a parking space. Even though her Honda Element was compact enough for even the most challenging San Francisco parking situation, she had to drive around before finally finding a spot two blocks from her loft. It might be time—she’d have to massage the budget—to look for a garage to rent. As she passed Nikki’s tattoo parlor, she heard her name. Again. This time the tone was different. Trouble loomed, for sure.

      Nikki came running out of her shop. “Babe, you know I love you, but we have a problem.”

      Now what? Drew was in school. Axel was in the apartment.

      The body artist moved to the curb where her vintage Cadillac was parked in a space nobody else in the neighborhood ever—ever—used if they knew what was good for them. Lovingly, Nikki ran a hand adorned with Celtic runes over the Caddy’s right fender. Selena thought she saw scratch marks. Her heart sank.

      “Maxine came by your place,” Nikki said. “Axel escaped.”

      “Oh, no!”

      “Don’t worry, we caught him,” Nikki replied, still caressing the car’s custom baby blue finish. “But not before he did this.”

      Selena tried to think if her car insurance had any clause that would remotely cover Axel damage.

      “I talked to Sanchez up the street,” Nikki continued. “He thinks he can buff it out. And he owes me. But if it needs a paint job—”

      “I’ll pay.” There went any prospect of a garage in the near future. “You know I’m good for it.”

      “I know you are, babe.” Nikki was toughness itself, but her words weren’t unkind. “But you gotta see to that mutt. Before something happens to someone who doesn’t love you.”

      “I will,” Selena promised for the second time in only four days.

      She knew how critical the situation was, but did Drew? Enough to put Axel in Quinn’s hands? Perhaps the very guy who pushed both their buttons was the one who’d already provided a nonthreatening opening. The DVD he’d brought over yesterday. On dog behavior. The one she’d put on the top of the bookcase and promptly forgotten. Maybe it was time to break out the popcorn for an after-school special. She loved Axel’s exuberance. She just couldn’t afford it anymore.