doorbell rang.
“It’s a holiday!” Wylie bellowed as he stepped out of his Timberlands. “Hmmm, smells good. I could eat a horse. Or, whatever it is you’re making.”
Lucy laughed again. “Pancakes, bacon, coffee, juice.” This was nice. Good-looking guy, his dog, her dog, her cooking in the kitchen. A roaring fire in the fireplace. Snowbound. The stuff dreams were made of. In this case a nightmare if she carried the thought any further.
“How’d you sleep?” Wylie asked as he made himself at home in the kitchen by setting the table, getting out napkins and silver. “I slept like a log,” he volunteered.
“I did, too. I woke up, and it was so quiet. I missed the dogs, though. I can’t believe they made it through the tunnel and then up through all that snow.”
“Sadie wanted to get home, and Coop was right behind her. They’re in love.” He guffawed.
Wylie looked really good this morning, in a yellow sweater and jeans that fit him like a second skin. Nice buns and great thighs. Lucy felt like she was sizing up a chicken at the market.
“How’s the head?” he asked.
“Quiet. I was thinking when I woke up that maybe this whole thing is just some temporary fluke.”
Wylie stared at her. “Lucy, I just don’t know. Weather permitting, Jake should be here soon. I checked the airport, and flights are coming in. I hope he can make it from the airport. He told me not to pick him up, that he would rent a car.”
Lucy placed a stack of buttermilk pancakes in front of Wylie, then fixed two plates for the dogs.
Wylie looked across the table, wondering if Lucy was tuned in to his thoughts. He didn’t ask. It didn’t matter to him if she knew he was worried about the FBI’s visit. He knew enough about the way the bureau worked to realize that there was no way in hell Lucy was going to get away from them unless she did what they wanted.
While Lucy cleared the table, he watched her and liked what he was seeing. Hell, he liked everything about her. Today she was wearing a long-sleeved pink shirt, open at the throat, and jeans that hugged her slim hips. Nice shape, 110 pounds, he judged. Nice blond hair, too, although today she wore it pinned on top of her head in a knot secured by tortoiseshell combs. He knew his mother would like Lucy. His dad would dote on her.
Wylie’s cell phone chirped. He rummaged in his pocket and flipped it on. “Where are you, buddy?” he asked when he recognized Jake’s voice. “You’re standing in my driveway! Hot damn. Come next door, and we’ll cook you some breakfast.
“It’s Jake. He’s here! I don’t believe that guy! He eats like a truck driver, just so you know. Guess that’s him knocking on the door.”
Coop and Sadie made it to the door before Wylie. Both dogs barked happily, but they reared back when they heard a bark coming from the bag hanging on Jake’s shoulder.
“I had to bring Lulu. My mother-in-law is allergic to dogs.” Jake shrugged as he lowered the canvas carry-on to the floor and unzipped it.
Coop and Sadie skidded backward when a five-pound Yorkshire terrier dressed in a pink sweater with matching bow in her hair pranced out of the bag and started to yip and yap as she sniffed and pawed at her new surroundings.
Lucy stifled a laugh as she extended her hand. “Lucy Baker,” she said.
“Jake Parsons. This little stick of dynamite is Lulu. My four-year-old twins named her. They also like to dress her up. Cheaper than buying Barbie clothes. She’s trained,” he added as an afterthought.
Lucy eyed the studly-looking shrink with the sparkling eyes behind the trench glasses. He looked like a movie star with curly, dark hair.
“How are the roads?” Wylie asked, leading his friend toward the kitchen.
“Horrendous. Don’t go out unless you have to. As I was leaving the airport they announced they were closing it. And LaGuardia and Kennedy, too.” He bent down to scoop Lulu into his arms.
Lucy started to whip up more pancake
“It’s a holiday!” Wylie bellowed as he stepped out of his Timberlands. “Hmmm, smells good. I could eat a horse. Or, whatever it is you’re making.”
Lucy laughed again. “Pancakes, bacon, coffee, juice.” This was nice. Good-looking guy, his dog, her dog, her cooking in the kitchen. A roaring fire in the fireplace. Snowbound. The stuff dreams were made of. In this case a nightmare if she carried the thought any further.
“How’d you sleep?” Wylie asked as he made himself at home in the kitchen by setting the table, getting out napkins and silver. “I slept like a log,” he volunteered.
“I did, too. I woke up, and it was so quiet. I missed the dogs, though. I can’t believe they made it through the tunnel and then up through all that snow.”
“Sadie wanted to get home, and Coop was right behind her. They’re in love.” He guffawed.
Wylie looked really good this morning, in a yellow sweater and jeans that fit him like a second skin. Nice buns and great thighs. Lucy felt like she was sizing up a chicken at the market.
“How’s the head?” he asked.
“Quiet. I was thinking when I woke up that maybe this whole thing is just some temporary fluke.”
Wylie stared at her. “Lucy, I just don’t know. Weather permitting, Jake should be here soon. I checked the airport, and flights are coming in. I hope he can make it from the airport. He told me not to pick him up, that he would rent a car.”
Lucy placed a stack of buttermilk pancakes in front of Wylie, then fixed two plates for the dogs.
Wylie looked across the table, wondering if Lucy was tuned in to his thoughts. He didn’t ask. It didn’t matter to him if she knew he was worried about the FBI’s visit. He knew enough about the way the bureau worked to realize that there was no way in hell Lucy was going to get away from them unless she did what they wanted.
While Lucy cleared the table, he watched her and liked what he was seeing. Hell, he liked everything about her. Today she was wearing a long-sleeved pink shirt, open at the throat, and jeans that hugged her slim hips. Nice shape, 110 pounds, he judged. Nice blond hair, too, although today she wore it pinned on top of her head in a knot secured by tortoiseshell combs. He knew his mother would like Lucy. His dad would dote on her.
Wylie’s cell phone chirped. He rummaged in his pocket and flipped it on. “Where are you, buddy?” he asked when he recognized Jake’s voice. “You’re standing in my driveway! Hot damn. Come next door, and we’ll cook you some breakfast.
“It’s Jake. He’s here! I don’t believe that guy! He eats like a truck driver, just so you know. Guess that’s him knocking on the door.”
Coop and Sadie made it to the door before Wylie. Both dogs barked happily, but they reared back when they heard a bark coming from the bag hanging on Jake’s shoulder.
“I had to bring Lulu. My mother-in-law is allergic to dogs.” Jake shrugged as he lowered the canvas carry-on to the floor and unzipped it.
Coop and Sadie skidded backward when a five-pound Yorkshire terrier dressed in a pink sweater with matching bow in her hair pranced out of the bag and started to yip and yap as she sniffed and pawed at her new surroundings.
Lucy stifled a laugh as she extended her hand. “Lucy Baker,” she said.
“Jake Parsons. This little stick of dynamite is Lulu. My four-year-old twins named her. They also like to dress her up. Cheaper than buying Barbie clothes. She’s trained,” he added as an afterthought.
Lucy eyed the studly-looking shrink with the sparkling eyes behind the trench glasses. He looked like a movie star with curly, dark hair.
“How are the roads?” Wylie asked, leading his friend toward the kitchen.
“Horrendous. Don’t go out unless you have to. As I was leaving the airport they announced they were closing it. And LaGuardia and Kennedy, too.” He bent down to scoop Lulu into his arms.
Lucy started to whip up more pancake
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