Scarsdale.
"My God, Dixie," she said. "Is he gorgeous or what? You didn't tell me he was so gorgeous!" "He's okay," Dixie said grudgingly, absently stroking Cyclops, the one-eyed cat lounging on her lap.
"What's the matter with you? He's to die for!"
Sylvie smacked her again and Dixie's coffee spilled. "Criminy, Sylvie, you're giving me a bruise!"
Sylvie put on her wounded mother face and splayed a bejeweled hand across her chest. "Oh. I'm sorry. You completely miss that this man you've taken in is to die for, and this is my fault? Sometimes I don't know what's the matter with you, Dixie. I don't know what's the matter with your hormones. Maybe what you need is to see a good gynecologist."
"There's nothing the matter with my hormones," Dixie grumbled, her eyes following Jake's progress down the beach.
He had a beautiful stride. His long legs were dusted with just the right amount of golden hair. The muscled thighs and calves were displayed in all their tanned perfection by a loose-fitting pair of navy blue running shorts topped by a gray sweatshirt. Dixie couldn't keep her eyes off those magnificent athlete's legs. She watched until he and the dogs were just pin dots down at the south edge of the property.
No, there was nothing wrong with her hormones. They had been in a raging turmoil from the moment she'd met Jake Gannon. She'd crawled into bed the night before to seek the solace of sleep, but all she'd gotten were dreams of impossibly perfect men with golden hair and Robert Redford smiles. She had awakened ornery as a bear with fleas, cursing Jake Gannon and cursing herself. She'd come to Mare's Nest for peace. She'd wrestled all her demons and settled into a life of comfortable routine. She didn't care to have that routine disrupted.
"I don't need this," she muttered, glaring at Jake as he turned and headed back up the beach, dogs bouncing along around his ankles.
"Of course you need this," Sylvie said, her voice becoming gentle with understanding. "You're a lovely young woman. You need a man in your life. That's nature. Who are you to fight nature?"
"Maybe I could use a man in my life," Dixie conceded. "But not this one."
"What are you--crazy?" Sylvie asked incredulously, slapping Dixie's shoulder once again.
"He's to die for!"
Dixie winced at the blow but didn't take her eyes off Jake. Jake with the wind riffling his golden hair and color accenting his high cheekbones. He was just too perfect. Perfection to die for.
The thought brought a painful rush of memories. Memories of someone who had done just that in the pursuit of perfection--died. Her dear, sweet friend who had wanted so badly to please people who cared for nothing but profit, people who believed pretty perfect girls were a dime a dozen. How easily Dixie could have killed herself in pursuit of perfection. Other people had driven her mercilessly to achieve it, not for her sake but for their own. She thought of her cousin, hiding out in the attic because she had tried just a little too hard to achieve someone else's idea of perfection. No, she didn't need a man who lived and breathed the word.
Sylvie wrapped an arm around her and gave her a sympathetic squeeze. "You can't tie everything to the past, doll. That's all behind you now. You think I don't know how you suffered? You think everyone who knows you here, everyone who loves you, doesn't know how you suffered? That's all over. Start living again, Dixie."
"I've been living," Dixie argued. "I've been living fine. I don't need some California hunk to make my life complete."
"No, but that's some nice icing to put on the cake, isn't it?" Sylvie said. Her gaze locked on Jake as he altered his route and jogged up the incline toward them. "He's a perfectionist," Dixie hissed under her breath as if it were a religion on par with Satanism.
"So he's got a little flaw," Sylvie said through her teeth. "Men can be trained, you know. Make an effort. You can work that out of him."
Dixie
"My God, Dixie," she said. "Is he gorgeous or what? You didn't tell me he was so gorgeous!" "He's okay," Dixie said grudgingly, absently stroking Cyclops, the one-eyed cat lounging on her lap.
"What's the matter with you? He's to die for!"
Sylvie smacked her again and Dixie's coffee spilled. "Criminy, Sylvie, you're giving me a bruise!"
Sylvie put on her wounded mother face and splayed a bejeweled hand across her chest. "Oh. I'm sorry. You completely miss that this man you've taken in is to die for, and this is my fault? Sometimes I don't know what's the matter with you, Dixie. I don't know what's the matter with your hormones. Maybe what you need is to see a good gynecologist."
"There's nothing the matter with my hormones," Dixie grumbled, her eyes following Jake's progress down the beach.
He had a beautiful stride. His long legs were dusted with just the right amount of golden hair. The muscled thighs and calves were displayed in all their tanned perfection by a loose-fitting pair of navy blue running shorts topped by a gray sweatshirt. Dixie couldn't keep her eyes off those magnificent athlete's legs. She watched until he and the dogs were just pin dots down at the south edge of the property.
No, there was nothing wrong with her hormones. They had been in a raging turmoil from the moment she'd met Jake Gannon. She'd crawled into bed the night before to seek the solace of sleep, but all she'd gotten were dreams of impossibly perfect men with golden hair and Robert Redford smiles. She had awakened ornery as a bear with fleas, cursing Jake Gannon and cursing herself. She'd come to Mare's Nest for peace. She'd wrestled all her demons and settled into a life of comfortable routine. She didn't care to have that routine disrupted.
"I don't need this," she muttered, glaring at Jake as he turned and headed back up the beach, dogs bouncing along around his ankles.
"Of course you need this," Sylvie said, her voice becoming gentle with understanding. "You're a lovely young woman. You need a man in your life. That's nature. Who are you to fight nature?"
"Maybe I could use a man in my life," Dixie conceded. "But not this one."
"What are you--crazy?" Sylvie asked incredulously, slapping Dixie's shoulder once again.
"He's to die for!"
Dixie winced at the blow but didn't take her eyes off Jake. Jake with the wind riffling his golden hair and color accenting his high cheekbones. He was just too perfect. Perfection to die for.
The thought brought a painful rush of memories. Memories of someone who had done just that in the pursuit of perfection--died. Her dear, sweet friend who had wanted so badly to please people who cared for nothing but profit, people who believed pretty perfect girls were a dime a dozen. How easily Dixie could have killed herself in pursuit of perfection. Other people had driven her mercilessly to achieve it, not for her sake but for their own. She thought of her cousin, hiding out in the attic because she had tried just a little too hard to achieve someone else's idea of perfection. No, she didn't need a man who lived and breathed the word.
Sylvie wrapped an arm around her and gave her a sympathetic squeeze. "You can't tie everything to the past, doll. That's all behind you now. You think I don't know how you suffered? You think everyone who knows you here, everyone who loves you, doesn't know how you suffered? That's all over. Start living again, Dixie."
"I've been living," Dixie argued. "I've been living fine. I don't need some California hunk to make my life complete."
"No, but that's some nice icing to put on the cake, isn't it?" Sylvie said. Her gaze locked on Jake as he altered his route and jogged up the incline toward them. "He's a perfectionist," Dixie hissed under her breath as if it were a religion on par with Satanism.
"So he's got a little flaw," Sylvie said through her teeth. "Men can be trained, you know. Make an effort. You can work that out of him."
Dixie
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