Blindsided

by Karis Walsh

  The puppy-walking class came to a halt and the cameras stopped rolling. Lenae staunched her twinge of disappointment. Whatever passion was hiding beneath Cara’s calm and serene professional surface would have to remain hidden, at least for now.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cara slowed down for the turn, checking in her rearview mirror to make sure her entire caravan was still with her, and pulled into the driveway to Lenae’s training center. Pickwick sat beside her, covering the passenger-side window with nose prints as he strained to get a view of the outside world. She was convinced he recognized that he was back at the center since he usually spent drives attempting to devour her floor mats or seat cushions, although Lenae had spent most of their first two puppy-walking classes giving advice on how to keep the pups from chewing inappropriately. Cara hoped the rest of the volunteers had benefitted from the suggestions, but Pickwick seemed determined to resist them all.

  She slowly drove toward the office with two cars and a minivan behind her. She’d never gotten a formal answer to her student’s question—how a person could help the center without a significant time commitment—because once she’d thought about it, the answer was glaringly obvious. In the broken, chipped-paint-covered fence around the training area, in the weedy and neglected gardens, and in the patchy lawn. She had mentioned the disrepair to her class, and the twelve students had immediately started planning a weekend work party. Now they, plus a few more recruits, were armed with paint and rakes and a thatcher and were ready to descend on the center.

  Cara had wanted to surprise Lenae with the help, but she had told Des about her plan. He had arranged a time when the grounds would be quiet and empty enough for them to work. Cara parked in front of the house and waved for the rest of the group to wait while she went to find Lenae.

  She tapped on the partially open office door and went inside. Baxter met her as she walked down the hall, and Cara let Pickwick off his leash to play with the older dog. Lenae was at her desk, without musical accompaniment this time, and her fingers moved rapidly over a piece of paper. Cara marveled again at the dexterity and sensitivity of Lenae’s fingertips, able to discern and translate simple dots into complex words and sentences. Fingertips that would be able to sense nuances of feeling and response.

  “Good morning, Lenae,” she said, clearing her throat as the thought of Lenae touching her made it difficult to speak.

  “Cara, hello. What brings you here? Is everything all right with Pickwick?” The puppy bounded over to greet her, and Lenae bent down to pet him.

  “He’s doing well. Full of energy as you can probably tell.” Pickwick left Lenae’s side, went over to Baxter, and started chewing on his ears. “I came today because my students met Pickwick and wanted to help the center in some way. I told them about some of the repairs you needed done around here, and we’ve come ready to paint and weed and mend fences.”

  “Without letting me know.”

  Cara was getting accustomed to Lenae’s shifts from warm and seemingly happy to see her and Pickwick to icy cold, but Cara had only heard crystals in Lenae’s tone, now and again, never before such a blizzard.

  “This is a working center, and I have students and dogs in training full-time now.”

  “I talked to Des to make sure we wouldn’t be intruding during a class,” Cara said, her voice stiffening in response to Lenae’s censure. “He thought it was a great idea and said the assistance would be appreciated.”

  Lenae tapped her fingernail on her desk, finding a soft spot in the grainy wood and digging her nail into it. She had meant to defend her lack of ambition in the cosmetic details of her center by telling Cara how busy she’d been lately—not to imply that Cara and her work crew would be interrupting a class. But busyness didn’t explain why the fences were broken and the gardens were bare patches.

  Lenae could do most things on her own—and she had fought for independence and self-sufficiency since she had taken her first steps as a toddler—but there were frustrating aspects of this career that forced her to rely on other people. Des had to be a set of eyes for her, a necessary observer and assistant who was able to watch the owners and dogs work together. And the television crews and volunteers and donors required to make the center a success apparently couldn’t see past the appearance of the place to the actual work she was doing here. She needed help. And, damn it, the more she needed it, the more she hated the offer. Especially from Cara. She wanted Cara of all people to think of her as an equal, not as a charity case. To see her as a passionate and capable woman, not as a weak and disabled one. She sounded ungrateful, but she couldn’t stop her defensive reaction. Cara had looked around her center and had seen Lenae’s weaknesses.

  She turned to face Cara. “I told Des we’d get to those minor repairs after we got the training sessions going. It’s not a priority right now. He might think it is, but the dogs and their owners matter more than having pretty flowers in the garden.”

  “I get what you’re saying. You do something meaningful here. So let me and my students take care of some of the petty details and free up your time for training.”

  “I didn’t mean…I understand that to sighted people these things matter…”

  Cara frowned. Lenae might as well come right out and say I’m doing vital and important work here. You’re doing nothing more than glossing over the surface of life, like you always do. Okay, maybe some of Cara’s own feelings were influencing her response, but she didn’t need Lenae pointing out that she was deep while Cara was shallow.

  “Right. Because you’re so deep, but we’re all mindless and superficial. Do you want the help, or not? I can tell everyone to go and leave you alone.”

  Cara was backing toward the door when Lenae stood and reached out a hand. She was tempted to stay out of range or just walk away, but she couldn’t resist Lenae’s offer or her own need to make contact. She took two steps forward and touched Lenae’s fingers with her own. The contact was brief, and both moved away at the same time, but the connection seemed to soften the atmosphere even as it sent heat up Cara’s arm and into her chest.

  “I’d like your help,” Lenae said, as if each word hurt to say.

  “But you don’t want to admit it?” Cara understood. She’d learned not to accept favors from her family or from others she met in the media business. The strings attached to them were as binding as shackles. “I get that, Lenae. No strings, I promise.”

  Lenae didn’t answer the question. “Tell your students I said thank you.”

  Cara wanted to touch Lenae again, but she kept her distance. “Why don’t you tell them yourself? They’d love to meet you.”

  “I have work to do.” Lenae sat at her desk again. “But I’ll come out later and check on your progress.”

  “We’ll try not to disappoint you,” Cara said, smiling as she spoke so her tone would be playful and teasing.

  Lenae hesitated, and then seemed to accept the change in mood. “I hope not. I can be a strict taskmaster.”

  “I’m sure you can,” Cara said, her mind going directly to the bedroom. She’d let Lenae be the boss as long as she made good use of those dexterous fingers. The shy smile that replaced Lenae’s frown made her wonder if Lenae’s thoughts had gone in the same direction. “Luckily, I do my best work under pressure. Come on, Pickwick, let’s go.”

  *

  As soon as Cara left, Lenae picked up the paper she had been reading, but her hands were still. She’d felt more comfortable with the joking mood than with Cara’s earnest attempts to help her. Weak. She didn’t want to be seen as weak or helpless in anyone’s eyes, but especially not Cara’s. But she could be strong in the moments when Cara flirted because she knew they weren’t real. They were part of the Cara who showed up for the cameras. The one who carefully controlled what other people saw and heard. Lenae wouldn’t take the sexy teasing seriously, but still…it was a pleasant distraction.

  Lenae stayed inside her office for almost an hour, but she didn’t get anyt
hing done except replay her conversation with Cara, carrying the banter further in her mind—all the way to bed. She had reached out her hand to Cara in apology, not expecting her response to the quick, casual touch. Instead of simply feeling Cara at the point of contact, Lenae’s entire body had responded to her. Warm, yearning. She heard the shouts and laughter through the open window as Cara and her students worked in the yard. The rhythmic beat of hammers proved that they were as industrious as they were playful. Lenae heard the click of Baxter’s nails as he walked back and forth between his bed and the window, and she finally gave in to his obvious desire to be outside in the sunshine and part of the activity. Because he had been cooped up all morning, not because she had been straining to distinguish Cara’s voice and laugh from all the others.

  She and Baxter stepped onto the porch and Pickwick—oblivious to Baxter’s harness and his role as a working guide dog—met them with a flurry of puppy yips and jumped on her leg.

  “Down, Pickwick,” she said in a calm voice. “Can you sit?” She pushed forward with her leg and snapped her fingers above his head. She knew the combined motions would put him slightly off balance toward his rear. He’d be staring at her fingers as they snapped and would naturally sit down as he looked up. She reached down to scratch his ears and found, no surprise, that he was actually sitting. “What a good boy!”

  “How the hell did you do that?” Cara glared at the traitorous puppy. She had been watching for Lenae to emerge from her office for at least an hour, finding any excuse to work close to the old house, while Pickwick attempted to demolish everything Cara repaired. “I’ve been working for days on getting him not to jump on me, and I figured it’d be a few more weeks before I could get him to do something as obedient as sitting. You didn’t even tell him what to do, you just suggested it.”

  “The key to training is putting the dog in a place where the right behavior comes naturally. If you’re constantly fighting him, it’ll always be a struggle, but if you can get the response you want while making him think it was his idea in the first place, then it’s much easier on both of you. Don’t worry, we’ll go over these techniques in our classes.”

  Cara laughed at the notion of outsmarting a puppy as she patted Pickwick on the head. He turned to look back at her and rolled out of his seated position and onto his side. “Amazing. I’m sure you’ll be able to teach me some training aids, but you have a knack for communicating with these dogs. Skills can be taught, but talent is inborn.”

  “Like yours.”

  Cara straightened up. Was Lenae kidding? She hadn’t done anything around Lenae except report on her training center in front of the camera. Even bringing the students here today hadn’t been her doing—she’d merely talked about the positive work Lenae was doing, and they had wanted to help. “I don’t have any special abilities like you do. I spend my life sharing stories about people who use their time and talent to help others, but I don’t do anything of my own.”

  One of the students stopped near them to ask Cara a question about paint colors, and Lenae sat on a bench while half-listening to the conversation and playing with Pickwick. She moved her hand to find him when he scooted away, and she bumped into a wooden box sitting next to her. She felt along the sides and top. A hanging basket. Cara must have been putting it up near the office door when Lenae had come out. She touched the plants and felt one with velvety leaves, one with delicately soft petals, and one with tiny, tight leaves and buds. She rubbed her palm over a needlelike, upright plant.

  “That’s rosemary,” Cara said. “Smell your hand.”

  Lenae sniffed her palm. She had used rosemary for cooking plenty of times but somehow had never really associated the culinary herb with a live and growing plant. Too much time in the city. “I’ve never gotten into gardening before. I think weeding would be a challenge.”

  Lenae almost gasped out loud when Cara took her hand. She felt the tickle of Cara’s breath and the fleeting touch of her nose and mouth as Cara shared the lingering scent. Cara moved Lenae’s unresisting hand to another plant in the hanging basket. “This one is sage. Pull off a leaf and crush it in your hand before you smell it. And I’ll bet you could come up with some ways to tell the difference between weeds and plants if you wanted to garden. You could plant flowers or herbs in evenly spaced rows and just weed around them, or memorize how your plants smell and feel. It’s a great hobby, whether you just want to get in touch with the earth, or you want to use what you grow for cooking.”

  Lenae struggled to discern anything besides the sensation of Cara’s touch. She plucked a fuzzy leaf and rubbed it between her fingers, with Cara’s hand still cradling hers. Lenae raised both of their hands to her face and inhaled deeply. The earthy scent of sage mingled with her own sophisticated Chanel and Cara’s citrus notes to create a cacophony of aromas. Lenae felt Cara’s fingers lightly graze her cheek before she dropped their contact. Lenae missed her touch with an odd ache, but their combined scents still lingered in her mind.

  “What are the others?” Lenae asked quietly, not wanting to break the illusion of being alone with Cara in an enchanted garden. The noise of hammering and shouting faded into the background.

  “This is thyme, and the flowers are geraniums.” Cara guided Lenae’s hand to the different plants. “I tried to pick plants that had different textures and scents so you’d enjoy them, and they’re all edible as well. Just pick off a few leaves if you want to use them for cooking.”

  “How thoughtful. I love it,” Lenae said. She tried to cover her surprise at the effort Cara had put into the small basket by leaning over to sniff the thyme. She had assumed the cosmetic improvements wouldn’t affect her at all, but Cara had taken the time to ensure that Lenae could share in the activities of the day. She concentrated on the lemony, woodsy herb. Yes, a thoughtful gesture. Nothing more. Cara couldn’t have any idea how erotic the combination of aroma and touch was to her.

  “Maybe Baxter and I should go get lunch for everyone,” Lenae said. She needed to get off this porch, do something practical. Anything to keep from thinking about the way Cara had touched her hand when Cara had leaned close to smell the sage. Or the way Lenae’s skin had felt energized with electricity when Cara touched her cheek. She felt a little guilty for having been so defensive when Cara and the students arrived, and way too pleased by Cara’s gesture with the tactile and fragrant basket. Some time by herself, with Baxter, would help her get the messier emotions under control.

  “Great idea,” Cara said. “Pickwick and I will come with you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cara lengthened her stride to keep up with Lenae and Baxter’s quick pace. Pickwick did his usual dart back-and-forth across the sidewalk, threatening to tangle her in his leash, while Baxter marched along with purpose, carefully leading Lenae around people and obstacles. She was glad to have the distractions, though, to keep her mind occupied. She had come up with the idea of Lenae’s hanging basket because she thought Lenae might appreciate the different qualities of the herbs, but she hadn’t anticipated the scene she’d just experienced. The smell of sex, the feel of skin—those were as much a part of sensual encounters for Cara as was sight. But merely sharing the plants with Lenae had aroused her beyond anything she had felt before. Every sense had come alive with the subtle onslaught of fragrance and texture.

  “I can’t imagine Pickwick will ever be able to do this job like Baxter does,” she said, trying to control her voice and hide how out of breath she was after three short blocks. “He has no attention span. He’ll run his person right into a lamppost.”

  Lenae laughed. “He has the attention span of a puppy. We won’t put him into training until he’s mature enough to handle it, but you’ll be surprised by the differences you’ll see in him after a year. And remember that the more difficult puppies often make the best guide dogs since they’re intelligent and willing to take initiative. I’ve kept in touch with Baxter’s puppy walker, Lynn, and she’s told me some hilarious stories ab
out what a handful he was when he was a pup.”

  “I guess I’ll have to trust you on this since it’s your area of expertise, but I’m still skeptical.” Cara unwound the leash after Pickwick wove between the legs of a mailbox. At least Pickwick seemed calmer around Baxter than he did when they were alone. She had offered to come with Lenae to get lunch for the students because she wanted to spend more time with Lenae, to maintain the connection she’d felt when holding Lenae’s herb-scented hand. Her feelings about Lenae were too complicated to be comfortable, though. Lenae’s career choice and her dedication to her center were admirable, but they made Cara feel self-centered by comparison. Even though she wasn’t as hungry for fame and attention as her family, she was still a professional pretty face. Sure, she was selling her audience on the causes she featured on her show, encouraging them to support good works, instead of selling herself out for commercial television, but the jobs were basically the same. Empty smiles for the camera. Philanthropy that ended when the producer said Cut.

  “Maybe,” Lenae said after remaining silent for a long moment.

  “Maybe…what?” Cara asked, confused since she had been startled out of her own thoughts. “Maybe Pickwick will be a good guide dog?”

  “No. I meant maybe training is my area of expertise. I’m still not sure.”