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the
trapped dog and pulled. The rest of the team seemed to think it
some sort of game and pulled harder. The more Claire pulled, the
more the dogs pulled back.
    "Come on, you bozos!" she shouted in
frustration, no match for their combined strength. "Give me a
break!"
    Whether out of curiosity at being called an
unfamiliar name, or boredom with the sport, the gangline abruptly
slackened, sending Claire backwards onto her butt in the snow.
    Dillon freed his tangled dog, then made his
way down the line. "Come on, Blacky," he lifted a scrappy-looking
jet black husky off its feet, "up and over." He set the dog down on
the other side of the gangline. Then, "I know we don't have any
trees in Nome, Chevron," he said to the next dog – it had somehow
wrapped its neckline several times around a small spruce, "but you
can't take this one home with you." He unsnapped the line, worked
the twist out, and reattached it to the dog's harness.
    Again, the compassion and patience he showed
his team moved Claire. Whatever secrets shadowed him, when he was
with his dogs he gave himself away. She helped him lead them back
onto the trail behind her team. "Are you all right?" she asked.
    She saw the unsteadiness in his hands as he
retrieved his gloves from the snow and pulled them on over his
reddened fingers. He gave a half smile. "Bozos?"
    She chuckled. "It was the only thing I could
think of at the time. What happened?"
    "My dogs heard yours and took a shortcut to
say hi."
    Her smile faded. "So much for staying out of
each other's way."
    "I'm not blaming you, Claire."
    She thought of what started their stupid deal
in the first place. "Are you sure? Because it feels like you've
been blaming me for something ever since I told you I'm an
attorney." She drew a cold, sharp breath through her teeth and
plunged on without giving him a chance to respond. "So what was it?
You get one too many traffic tickets?"
    His gaze narrowed, became brittle. "You
remind me of things I left behind. Things I'm not going to talk
about."
    Anger . An honest emotion at
last . "As long as you agree I'm not responsible."
    "You're not responsible."
    "Good." Though she would have preferred he
talk about it. No point pressing her luck. "Good," she repeated.
"So, no more smartass remarks about lawyers, right? And no more
calling me counselor like it’s a dirty word."
    The tension in his expression eased. If she
didn't know better, she'd say he almost wanted to smile. "No more
smartass remarks."
    Claire heard a scuffle behind her and turned
to see Trouble snap at Pepper. "Knock it off!" Looking back at
Dillon, she said, "They're getting restless. I should go before
they decide to finish the run without me." She fixed him with a
level gaze and asked, "Are we okay, you and me?"
    "We're okay. Thanks again for your help."
    He gave in to his smile then and Claire had
to suck air back into her lungs before replying, "You're
welcome."
    Her dogs yipped and danced, eager to go. She
was too. Okay didn't begin to cover the feelings jangling
through her. Putting distance between herself and the cause of
those feelings seemed the smart thing to do. She grabbed her sled's
handlebar and pulled up the hook. "Let's go!" she called and her
team lunged into action.
     
    ***
     
    Dillon watched Claire and her dogs cruise
around the bend and disappear from sight. His dogs whined and bit
at the snow to follow. "Settle down." He identified with their
desire, felt it pulse through him. The woman had him thinking about
her with annoying frequency. He couldn't ignore it, anymore than he
seemed able to stay out of her way.
    There'd been a time when talking to a defense
attorney meant consorting with the enemy. But Claire wasn't the
enemy. She'd come to his rescue in Talkeetna and today her quick
action may well have saved Denver's life. His dogs weren't
conditioned for these kinds of trails. He and Claire should have
mapped out their routes beforehand, instead of avoiding each other.
Smartass remarks?