rolled her eyes. Sylvie talked as if Jake were a designer suit with a snag in the sleeve, a bargain at a Garment District discount store she should snap up and repair.
"Morning, ladies," Jake said with a grin as he came to a stop at the foot of the stairs. He stood with his hands at his waist. The dogs all flopped into an exhausted heap around his feet, but he was barely out of breath, Dixie noted with disgust.
"So are you going to introduce me to your friend or what?" Sylvie asked, elbowing her in the ribs.
"Cripes, Sylvie, you're gonna put me in the hospital," Dixie groused. Rubbing her side, she scowled from one tormentor to the other. "Sylvie Lieberman, Jake Gannon. Jake is a writer."
"Oh, really?" Sylvie beamed, displaying caps and pumping Jake's hand enthusiastically. "My Sid, God rest his soul, was an agent. What have you written, Jake? I'm thinking maybe I've read you. There's something familiar about you."
Jake's smile tightened. "Oh, I doubt it. I'm working on a mystery. Hasn't sold yet."
"Hmm...isn't that funny? I could have sworn there was something..." She let the thought trail off and rubbed her knuckles back and forth across her mouth as she pondered.
Jake turned his attention to Dixie. "I was just out for a little morning exercise. Want to come along? I see you're dressed for it."
Dixie glanced down at the old gray sweatpants and maroon hooded sweatshirt she wore. "These aren't exercise clothes. These are lounging-around-on-the-porch clothes. I don't do exercise. It's against my religion."
"Come on," Jake prodded. "It's good for you. Everybody needs to get up and get their blood going." And possibly get their tongue going about the person living in their attic, he added mentally.
Dixie sniffed, looking pointedly at Honey and Hobbit, who were doing their best dead dog impressions. Bob Dog rolled onto his back and whined. "You wore my dogs plumb out, now you want to start on me? No thanks."
Sylvie smacked her on the arm. "What's the matter with you? You've got something wrong with your legs now? You can't go for a walk with the man?"
It was a tempting thought. She could walk with Jake, slow him down, start on that reformation project. It was too tempting. What could be in it for her besides trouble? The satisfaction of having tried to pull a man off the perfection mill and get him to smell the roses? Maybe, but he wasn't going to be here long enough for any long-term changes.
Then that made it safe for her to try, though, didn't it, a little voice whispered in the back of her head. In the few days Jake would be here maybe she could make a small impression on him. And there wouldn't be enough time for anything catastrophic to happen to her heart, would there?
She thought of the lives she had seen ruined by that drive to attain the unattainable. Now she could do something to sway someone from that course.
She pushed herself to her feet with mixed feelings of reluctance and resolution. "I guess a walk along the beach might be nice at that. Beats the heck out of sitting here having Sylvie whup the tar out of me."
"Great." Jake grinned, turning and heading for the hard- packed sand just above the water line, his strides long and energetic. He glanced back over his shoulder at her. "Let's go!" he said, clapping his big hands together enthusiastically. "Let's get that heart rate up."
The old spirit of competition prodded Dixie to quicken her pace, but she held back, forcing Jake to slow down.
"I used to jog," she said matter-of-factly, bending over to snatch up a tiny shell. Strolling along, she examined the curl of the delicate piece, the soft polished pink of the inside. "I used to run five miles a day. Gave myself shinsplints and about ruined my knees. Walking is nicer anyway, don't you think? I never noticed all the colors in the ocean when I was running past it."
Jake looked out at the water rolling endlessly, the early morning sun streaking a river of molten gold across it,
"Morning, ladies," Jake said with a grin as he came to a stop at the foot of the stairs. He stood with his hands at his waist. The dogs all flopped into an exhausted heap around his feet, but he was barely out of breath, Dixie noted with disgust.
"So are you going to introduce me to your friend or what?" Sylvie asked, elbowing her in the ribs.
"Cripes, Sylvie, you're gonna put me in the hospital," Dixie groused. Rubbing her side, she scowled from one tormentor to the other. "Sylvie Lieberman, Jake Gannon. Jake is a writer."
"Oh, really?" Sylvie beamed, displaying caps and pumping Jake's hand enthusiastically. "My Sid, God rest his soul, was an agent. What have you written, Jake? I'm thinking maybe I've read you. There's something familiar about you."
Jake's smile tightened. "Oh, I doubt it. I'm working on a mystery. Hasn't sold yet."
"Hmm...isn't that funny? I could have sworn there was something..." She let the thought trail off and rubbed her knuckles back and forth across her mouth as she pondered.
Jake turned his attention to Dixie. "I was just out for a little morning exercise. Want to come along? I see you're dressed for it."
Dixie glanced down at the old gray sweatpants and maroon hooded sweatshirt she wore. "These aren't exercise clothes. These are lounging-around-on-the-porch clothes. I don't do exercise. It's against my religion."
"Come on," Jake prodded. "It's good for you. Everybody needs to get up and get their blood going." And possibly get their tongue going about the person living in their attic, he added mentally.
Dixie sniffed, looking pointedly at Honey and Hobbit, who were doing their best dead dog impressions. Bob Dog rolled onto his back and whined. "You wore my dogs plumb out, now you want to start on me? No thanks."
Sylvie smacked her on the arm. "What's the matter with you? You've got something wrong with your legs now? You can't go for a walk with the man?"
It was a tempting thought. She could walk with Jake, slow him down, start on that reformation project. It was too tempting. What could be in it for her besides trouble? The satisfaction of having tried to pull a man off the perfection mill and get him to smell the roses? Maybe, but he wasn't going to be here long enough for any long-term changes.
Then that made it safe for her to try, though, didn't it, a little voice whispered in the back of her head. In the few days Jake would be here maybe she could make a small impression on him. And there wouldn't be enough time for anything catastrophic to happen to her heart, would there?
She thought of the lives she had seen ruined by that drive to attain the unattainable. Now she could do something to sway someone from that course.
She pushed herself to her feet with mixed feelings of reluctance and resolution. "I guess a walk along the beach might be nice at that. Beats the heck out of sitting here having Sylvie whup the tar out of me."
"Great." Jake grinned, turning and heading for the hard- packed sand just above the water line, his strides long and energetic. He glanced back over his shoulder at her. "Let's go!" he said, clapping his big hands together enthusiastically. "Let's get that heart rate up."
The old spirit of competition prodded Dixie to quicken her pace, but she held back, forcing Jake to slow down.
"I used to jog," she said matter-of-factly, bending over to snatch up a tiny shell. Strolling along, she examined the curl of the delicate piece, the soft polished pink of the inside. "I used to run five miles a day. Gave myself shinsplints and about ruined my knees. Walking is nicer anyway, don't you think? I never noticed all the colors in the ocean when I was running past it."
Jake looked out at the water rolling endlessly, the early morning sun streaking a river of molten gold across it,
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