Rival Forces Read Free

breathe.”
    â€œIf you say so.” Georgie sounded less enthusiastic. That was because Loba was eating the embryonic sac.
    Soon, the final puppy—six in all—was placed in a quilt-lined basket covering two hot-water bottles. Yardley bent over and kissed Loba on her dark snout. “Good girl. You’re a real trouper, Mama. Your babies are beautiful. So proud of you.”
    Loba made a nasal sound and licked Yardley’s face.
    â€œ Oooh. Ick!” Georgie commented behind her camera.
    Laughing, Yardley stood up and stretched. “Miracle of life, Georgie, in all its messy glory.”
    When she had cleaned her hands, Yard reached automatically to check her cell phone. A shadow sailed across her expression as she realized she hadn’t kicked the habit. She shoved her thoughts another way, to her penchant for meticulous record keeping. Dates and numbers came easily to her.
    â€œThat’s six pups delivered in five hours and forty-nine minutes. Put that in the records, Taggart.”
    â€œYou got it, boss.” Doug Taggart was a dozen years older than her, having worked first for her father. But he had always treated her with respect, calling her boss even when he didn’t need to.
    She equaled his five-foot ten-inch frame. But Taggart was build like a Hummer, short legs balancing a massive chassis that made her seem willowy in comparison as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder in identical gear of charcoal-gray cargo pants, long-sleeved polos, and windbreakers with the kennel name embroidered on the back.
    Sensing that her ordeal was over, Loba rose and moved to nose about in the wiggly pile of her pups. They were climbing over one another and rooting around in the basket lining, making mewling noises.
    Georgie moved in slowly to catch the mother-and-pups moment. “That’s amazing. Newborn puppies sound just like newborn humans?”
    â€œEven after seeing dozens of litters being born, it never gets old.” Taggart picked up the basket of pups. “I’ve got it from here, ladies. Happy New Year.”
    Half an hour and a nearly empty bottle of champagne later, the two friends were huddled together on a pile of quilts before the wood-burning fireplace in the century-old farmhouse Yardley called home. “Here’s the new headshot for your website.” Georgie held up her tablet, into which she’d downloaded her photos.
    Yardley took one look at the photo of her sweaty face and goofy smile and feigned horror. “Oh no! Delete it now.”
    â€œNot so fast.” Georgie jerked her tablet out of Yardley’s grasp. “Let’s see. What do I want in return for not releasing this photo?” She pretended to search her mind. “ Hm. For now, I’ll take the rest of the champagne.”
    â€œOh no, you don’t.” Yardley grabbed the bottle out from under Georgie’s reach. “You met Brad because of me. That’s got to have earned me a break.”
    â€œWon’t argue that.” The expression on Georgie’s face said it all. She was absolutely in love with sexy FBI operative Brad Lawson. Even if their affair had begun with Georgie at the center of an FBI bomb investigation after Brad’s explosives-sniffing K-9, Zander, had implicated her. Now, that was attraction.
    Yardley tried to hide a twinge of jealousy as she filled her own glass. “How is your hunk of wonderfulness?”
    â€œGood, when last seen.” She made a motion for the champagne bottle. “He and Zander had full holiday bomb-squad duty in D.C. But he’s off for ten days beginning tomorrow. He’s been very mysterious about a trip he’s planned for us. It better be somewhere tropical. All I’ve packed are bikinis, sarongs, and fifty-plus sunscreen.” The freckled redhead waggled the empty bottle before Yardley’s nose. “The question is, why are you alone?”
    â€œMore bubbly coming up.” Yardley popped up