Free Shotgun Nanny by Nancy Warren Page B

like a barrel of laughs,” she muttered as she stomped to the kitchen.

    “CAN WE TAKE Kitsu with us to the park after lunch?” Emily asked Annie.

    That dog, if that’s what it really was, was giving her the willies, sitting on the kitchen floor and staring at them while they ate. “I don’t think—”

    “It’s a great idea,” Mark interrupted. He caught her gaze and shot her one of those I’ll-talk-to-you-about-this-later looks.

    “He won’t fit in my car,” she complained.

    “You can use my vehicle.” His tone told her he didn’t want to hear any more excuses, so she pursed her lips and forked her salad.

    “Can you come, too, Uncle Mark?”

    “Sorry, Em. I have to work.”

    “But it’s Saturday.”

    “I know it is. But I’ve got a lot to do getting ready for the big conference. You have fun without me.”

    Ha. Annie grumbled the entire time she packed a dinner picnic and changed her clothes. She couldn’t believe she’d been manipulated into taking a police dog to a picnic. And that was after she’d been conned into working on a Saturday when she was supposed to have weekends off. Not that she had anything better to do, as it turned out. And he was paying her time and a half. But still, it was the principle of the thing.

    “Well, we’re off for an afternoon of human and canine frolicking,” she announced to Mark in a syrupy voice as they were leaving the house.

    He took the picnic basket out of her arms and hefted it toward his truck while he shot her a sideways look. “That’s what you’re wearing for a day at the park?”

    She glanced down. Her paisley-printed Capri pants were zipped. Her purple crop top was clean. Her purple sandals with the big plastic daisies were on the correct feet.
    “What’s wrong with it?”

    “There’s so much skin showing.” He dropped his voice. “And I can see you’re not wearing a, um…” His gaze fastened on her chest.

    “A bra, Mark. It’s called a bra. I hardly ever wear them. Too restricting.”

    “It’s a good thing I got that dog to protect you,” he grumbled, forcing his gaze straight ahead.

    “From who? You? You’re the one who can’t keep his eyes to himself.”

    The picnic basket landed in the back of his SUV with a thump, and she knew the flush on his face wasn’t from exertion. At a single sharp gesture from him, the statue dog came to life and launched itself into the vehicle.

    She lifted her sun hat and slipped on dark glasses while he closed and locked the rear door.

    He held the keys out almost reluctantly and, as they dropped into her hand, she stuck her chest out as far as a 32B with attitude would go. “Any more orders?”

    He took a single step forward. It brought his chest to within almost touching distance of hers. Just a whisper away from contact, she felt the heat coming off him. Smelled the clean laundry and all-male scent of him. How could he infuriate and excite her at the same time? It just wasn’t fair.

    “Just one. Don’t forget your poop and scoop bags.”

    7

    HOW ON EARTH had she gone from being a professional children’s entertainer to being a professional poop scooper?

    If she had any sense at all, she’d be in Asia. Maybe she’d practice her Japanese on Kitsu and totally confuse him.

    Once they reached the park, Annie’s annoyance began to lift. It was a beautiful sunny day, and children, lovers and families with real dogs played Frisbee, lounged on blankets and were having fun. The smell of barbecuing meat wafted in the air, and the sound of laughter drifted to her ears.

    Annie found a spot near the middle of the huge field and laid out her red and white striped picnic blanket. Emily stood, holding the leash, and Kitsu halted obediently beside her.

    “Help me unpack, then we can play some ball.”

    “Can I let go of the leash?” Emily asked in a doubtful tone.

    Annie glanced at the motionless dog. “Yeah. I doubt if dynamite would move that dog without a command. Sit,