by Mae Nunn
“Frasier, heel.” The male voice was low and calm, but left no doubt who was in control. The little dog responded immediately, made a quick turn and stood at attention by Drew’s left heel. “Good boy.” The two beamed approval at one another as if they’d practiced the trick a hundred times.
“It figures,” Jessica said, annoyed. “I’ve been working with him for weeks and all he does is run around me in circles. But for a complete stranger, the little traitor behaves like he’s just come from the kennel club.”
Valentine spoke up. “That little cutie is Jessica’s new physical therapist. She’s moving around so much better since he came to live with her.”
“You mean since he showed up on my doorstep and refused to leave, don’t you?”
Her tone implied aggravation, but the look she gave the hairy pup said otherwise.
She gestured toward Drew’s slacks. “I’m really sorry about your pants,” she said, struggling to contain a smirk.
“I’m an old pro in the laundry room.” He shrugged and brushed at the marks.
“I never mastered that area myself,” she admitted.
Drew bent toward the waiting dog, collected the blue leash, handed it to her with a smile and said, “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
Jessica climbed the hill slowly, but faster than she had a month ago. Frasier really had helped. His constant demands for attention had forced her out of survivor guilt mode, off the couch and back into the sunshine. Back to the gardens, where she couldn’t resist the call of crabgrass. It was like a siren, tempting her to bend, reach, pull and then to find a way to gather up the mess and haul it away.
Like most able-bodied people, she’d taken the ability to perform those simple tasks for granted. Not anymore. Valentine said Jessica was blessed, but if that meant losing your career and killing a man in the process, God could keep His blessings.
As Frasier tugged at the leash, urging her on, she turned her face upward, enjoying the sun on her cheeks. The warmth suddenly deepened as she realized Rambo could still be watching. Just as quickly, she shrugged off the thought. Why would a handsome guy give her a second glance? And even if he did, the view from where he stood was certainly not much to see.
She snorted laughter at her own cruel joke. There was plenty to see. In this red sweat suit she must resemble the broad side of a barn.
Drew couldn’t resist watching as she trudged slowly up the incline. Red had always been his favorite color. Even filthy, it was perfect with her fair complexion and those challenging eyes.
“That precious girl has been through a lot in the past few months. But she’s a fighter.”
He turned his attention to the older woman. “I noticed.”
“Shall we get on up to the models? I know you’re anxious to see our homes.”
“I’d like that. And thank you for showing me the gardens. Everything I heard is true—they are magnificent.”
Taking the lead, Valentine sashayed up the long stone path, putting one small, fashionable pump in front of the other.
“Well, they’re a real source of pride. The landscaping is a special touch we think adds so much to the beauty of the property. We considered replacing the vegetable beds with a basketball goal.”
She waved her hand in that direction and sunlight danced off the many diamonds on her fingers and wrist. “But most of our residents objected. They enjoy the option to hoe a row of their own if they like, and Jess keeps the older folks up to their elbows in tomatoes and summer squash. Why, that girl can fling cantaloupe guts into her compost heap and accidentally grow melon better than anything that was planted on purpose.”
She tilted her platinum head back and smiled up at him in a beguiling way. “You’ll see.”
They reached the formal terrace and took a path lined with yellow-leaved hostas.
“Let me show you the three-bedroom model, Drew, honey. I’m certain this is exactly what you’re looking for,” Valentine said as she fitted the key into the lock. She swung the door wide and stepped aside.
He fell for the high ceilings, red oak floors, stark white walls and old-fashioned louvered windows in less time than it took to rotate a set of tires.
“Would you mind if we went to your office now?”
“Drew, dahhhlin’, we can do whatever you like,” she murmured agreeably.
She led him toward the end of the common hallway. Valentine stepped carefully around a bag of potting soil that had tipped over and spilled out onto the otherwise spotless floor. She appeared not even to notice, much less mind.
A door stood wide open and pop music, mingled with excited yapping, flowed from inside. He felt like a snoop for peering in as they passed, but he was naturally curious about his new neighbors.
Where the empty unit he’d just seen had appealed to him in its monochromatic, uncluttered state, this one couldn’t have been more different, more colorful or more alive with…stuff.
From behind a wall of potted ficus trees, a blur of white fur flashed into view, triumphantly dragging an empty plastic tray that had once held bedding plants. In an instant the plastic was forgotten. The animal charged the doorway.
“Hey, buddy, we meet again.” Drew squatted to accept the greeting.
The pup stood on its hind legs with front paws perched atop Drew’s knee. Drew scratched the length of its back while it arched appreciatively and broke into a big doggie smile, pink tongue lolling to one side.
“He is the worst excuse for a guard dog that I have ever seen!” Jessica complained.
“Nobody said he was supposed to save your life. Just get you out for a walk once in a while,” a female voice farther inside replied.
Jessica was followed by what Drew could have sworn was a caftan-clad ringer for the lead singer of the Mamas & the Papas, the late Cass Elliott.
“Frasier, who’s your little friend?” Mama Cass smiled down at Drew.
Valentine took over. “Allow me to make introductions. This is Jessica’s friend and temporary roommate, Miss Becky Jo Osborne. Becky Jo, this is Captain Andrew Keegan.”
“Pleased to meet you, Captain Keegan.”
Drew stood and took the hand as it was offered, palm down, wrist slightly limp. He hadn’t served time at Virginia cotillions without learning a little something. He bent again, from the waist, and lightly brushed a kiss on the soft skin of Becky Jo’s very fragrant hand. He raised his head and stared into eyes the color of Texas bluebonnets.
“What a pleasure to meet you,” he said sincerely, still holding her hand.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Becky Jo responded sweetly.
A disgusted gag resonated from Jessica’s direction as Frasier quietly chewed on the leather tie of Drew’s shoe.
“Break it up, you two. I think we’d best scoot along before it gets much later,” Valentine cautioned. “Drew wants to work out the finances this evening and it’s getting on toward supper, so I think we’d better get a move on.”
“Ladies.” He inclined his head.
Jessica’s smile was forced.
Becky Jo’s was downright sappy.
Frasier growled.
Drew followed the women’s eyes as they all looked down to see the dog pawing an open bag of potting soil, sending sprays of dirt in every direction. It was too late to jump out of the way. Soil cascaded across Drew’s foot, clung to the slobbery lace and then fell neatly down between his fresh cotton sock and leather shoe.
He shook his foot in mild annoyance, stepped carefully around the mess, nodded goodbye and turned toward the exit.
“Talk to you dahhhlin’ girls shortly,” Valentine drawled just before the door closed behind her.
“Is that guy perfect for you, or what?” Becky Jo enthused as she herded Frasier back inside.
“You’re as crazy as you look.”
“Uh-uuuuh,” was the singsong reply. “That big man is class all the way and he’s just what you need to get your mind off that Larry Bird wanna-be.”
Jess
ica held up her hands in surrender. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about the basketball forward who’d quietly dumped her several months earlier. He’d made some excuse about being too busy for a relationship. She knew the real reason he was suddenly so busy. What man would ever have time for an out-of-work, out-of-shape, overweight dancer?
A low rumble rattled the windows.
“What was that?” Becky Jo gathered her caftan up around generous thighs and closed the distance to the laundry room.
“Check this out! Hurry!” She frantically waved Jessica toward the window.
Urgency in her friend’s voice caused Jessica to take the three steps up to the kitchen level with less caution than usual. Briefly aware there was no pain in the ascent, she silently thanked the hairy mutt whose needs forced her into motion every morning.
Standing on tiptoe, Becky Jo had pulled the mini-blinds several inches apart, revealing the commotion outside. Jessica had to stoop to peek through the same opening.
The temperature had been so nice all day that she’d opened several windows. The sound of a car engine carried through the screens, and it was loud! But it wasn’t just noise.
Power reverberated.
Outside their laundry room was what guys lovingly called “a muscle car.” She didn’t have to know anything about racing to know she was looking at a special machine. Painted a brilliant blue, the sports car had two wide white stripes across the top that ran the entire length of the vehicle. Extra-wide tires were mounted on shiny chrome wheels, pathetically clean compared to Jessica’s grungy red station wagon.
The rumble grew as the car fell in behind Valentine’s. The driver wore a harness instead of the usual seat belt. As if sensing female attention, Drew Keegan turned and gazed up at the window. Smiling in a way he probably knew deepened his dimples, he waved as if they were spectators in a private parade, revved the engine and passed through the gates of Sacred Arms.
The kitchen phone jangled. Jessica grabbed it on the second ring.
“Well, what do you think of Drew?” Valentine purred into her cell phone. “Isn’t he a gorgeous creature?”
Jessica rolled her eyes. Valentine had never been subtle about her matchmaking. “He’s okay, if you’re into the macho military type, which I absolutely am not. As long as he keeps his distance, I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”
“Then you may have a small problem.”
“Oh? Why is that?” Jessica asked, suddenly concerned at the humor lacing Valentine’s voice.
“Dahhhlin’, Captain Keegan is your new next-door neighbor.”
Chapter Two
Just before 7:00 a.m., Jessica perched on the kitchen stool waiting for the first dose of caffeine of the day to drip. She yawned and gracefully stretched long arms overhead, flinching at the slight pain in her sunburned shoulders.
Frasier nudged at her ankle, demanding his morning walk. Ignoring his urgency would result in a puddle on the tile, so she took the leash from a peg by the front door.
“Come on, buddy. Let’s head for the back lawn.”
At the dog’s insistence, she navigated the pathway a little more quickly each day. She preferred to start off slowly, letting her muscles warm up naturally. But there’d been little of that since Becky Jo had shown up on April Fool’s Day with the critter under her arm. What an unexpected gift they’d been.
The accident had left Jessica lying on the couch for months, burying her grief and guilt in bags of cookies. Unable to give up the practice of her daily weigh-in, she’d watched the number on the scale rise as she scoured childhood memories for the sin that had surely earned her body God’s wrath.
Her only distraction was her lifelong best bud, who had kept the phone wires hot between Atlanta and Dallas. Becky Jo had been there day and night for Jessica to lean on, in the same way she leaned upon the detestable aluminum cane.
A month ago she’d answered the loud pounding on her front door to find the sweetest sight of her life—Rebecca Josephine Osborne standing in the hall with a squirming white dog firmly tucked in the crook of her arm. She’d come to stay awhile. Subletting her apartment to a college student, Becky Jo had packed up her eccentric retro wardrobe and folded her massage table into the back of her turquoise van.
Somewhere along the more than seven hundred miles of I-20, a tape had jammed in her eight-track player. Desperate for company, she’d located the animal shelter in the next small town and adopted Frasier. In a way peculiar to Becky Jo, she’d reasoned that a dog would be good physical therapy for her friend. Fortunately, she’d been right.
Every morning Becky Jo set off for the health spa and Jessica found herself the pup’s primary caregiver. For the past month the rascal had kept her in constant motion. She stretched to move things out of his reach, bent to attach his leash and picked up the pace to keep up with his insistent tugging.
Frequent walks kept her mind off her problems and forced her to critically assess the beds and gardens she’d agreed to develop four years earlier when the property owner, Daniel Ellis, had reduced the price of her town home in exchange for her horticultural services.
Now, if she spotted a weed, it had to be pulled. Empty spaces in the perennial island had to be filled. As spring flowers bloomed, she became aware of the need for more balance, more texture or color. Folding new life into the soil was only surpassed by the satisfaction of admiring the results.
She was doing just that while she waited for Frasier to finish his morning business when a big dual-cab pickup pulled a rental trailer through the gates. The driver propped his elbow on the ledge of the open window, his muscular arm visible. He sported a baseball cap, his eyes hidden by dark sunglasses, but there was no mistaking that goofy little mustache or the very solid jaw.
Rambo.
Her stomach did a quick flip-flop.
Dropping her gaze self-consciously, she grimaced at the cheap shorts and tank top. Recent purchases, but already permanently stained. Her sneakers were old favorites, well past their prime. Even with one pinkie toe visible where the canvas had worn completely through, she refused to discard them.
She reached up, running a hand through the mess she called morning hair, and slid a disapproving tongue across fuzzy teeth. Worse still was the glow from fish-belly-white skin on exposed arms and legs. A little sunburn helped, but frying to a crisp wouldn’t eliminate that fresh layer of cellulite that puckered just below the surface.
Anxiously she glanced up the path, seeking an escape route.
“Let’s go, Frasier.” She yanked the leash to get his cooperation. “Hurry up the front way, and we’ll avoid him.”
They made the long climb with the dog determined to stop every few feet. If Drew Keegan came around the corner for any reason, they’d be spotted. She could only hope he was completely occupied backing the trailer into place.
The pair made it to the Commons without incident. For once, Frasier chose to be quiet. A frisky squirrel could change that in a flash.
As they edged toward the corner, shoes crunched on the nearby pavement. Jerking the white pup to a halt, she held her breath and waited. Quick footsteps closed in. In a last-ditch effort at hair maintenance she ran jittery fingers through the tangles.
“Jessica, dahhhlin’, good morning.”
“Oh.” Jessica dropped all pretense of feminine vanity. “It’s only you, Valentine.”
The older woman’s face spread into a knowing smile. “I see your handsome new neighbor just pulled up.”
“Yes, and I’m glad it was just you who caught me like this.”
Valentine regarded Jessica. “Now that you mention it, you’re not exactly at your best.”
“Well, it’s early and you’re the only woman I know who can look great at this hour of the morning.”
Valentine patted her platinum hair lightly and smoothed the collar of a powder-blue silk jacket. “A girl must have her priorities straight.” She lowered her voice discreetly. “You know, Captain Keegan is the son of Senator M
arcus Keegan of Virginia.”
“The Marcus Keegan? The guy who led the impeachment hearings?”
“One and the same.”
“Okay, I can take a hint,” Jessica conceded with a sigh. She glanced around nervously, hoping for a quick getaway.
Valentine noted her friend’s agitation. “I’ve got an early appointment with a client, so I have to run. I just wanted to make sure Captain Keegan had the right security code.”
Jessica gave a quick peck to the artfully made-up cheek. “See you later.”
Resuming her purposeful walk, Valentine jingled her keys excitedly and set off to meet the client who would undoubtedly be signing a contract.
Jessica stood rooted to the same spot, unable to decide which way to go. She gripped the blue leash tightly and peeked around the corner. The tall man bent from the waist and reached for something behind the seat of the truck. She seized her chance, punched in the security code and flung open the door. Balancing on her good leg, she jammed her cane in the opening so the door wouldn’t close before she and the dog scooted inside.
Frasier stretched his tether to its fullest to investigate a beetle that had found its way into the marble vestibule.
“Come on, buddy,” she whispered. “This is no time to get friendly with a stinkbug.”
Another quick tug on the nylon cord and she had his full attention. He trotted forward. As she moved the cane, he suddenly dashed through the doorway at full speed. She released her grip, the only alternative to tumbling in after him. She turned in the direction of his excited barking, mortified.
It was him. Right there in the hallway. Not at the truck.
He stooped to greet her pet. Annoyance grew as the little mutt lavished the guy with kisses normally reserved for the person who filled the dog’s supper bowl.
Drew smiled down the length of the corridor.
What could she do but pretend the entrance was timed perfectly? She squared her shoulders beneath yesterday’s work shirt and turned her unwashed face straight in his direction. She made her way down the hall, leaning heavily on the cane to relieve the mild ache that generally accompanied the morning’s walk.
