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 Marcus 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.
“Moving day, huh?” she asked casually.
“Yes. I didn’t think I’d get in this fast, but Ms. Chandler was great about pushing everything through for me.”
Jessica nonchalantly folded her arms across her chest and leaned casually against the wall.
“Once Valentine makes up her mind she’s found a good match for one of her properties, there’s precious little that stands between her and a closing.”
“She’s an unusual woman, isn’t she?” he asked.
“She’s definitely in a class by herself.”
“Um-hmm,” he agreed with a smile.
Jessica’s