breathless element to her kisses. It was as if she were always astonished, always pleasantly surprised by the chemistry that existed between them. He understood that astonishment. He felt it, too.
“Oh my Lord,” Daisy said, jumping to her feet. “Look at the time!” She dashed to the car, stuffed the plug in her ear, and grabbed the two-way.
After a few minutes, she came back and dropped onto the quilt. “Just made it. I put the plug in my ear when the cue came up.” She looked guilty. “I gave the same report as last time. I’m probably not supposed to admit that to my boss.”
“It’ll cost you. I might fire you, if you don’t agree to help me figure out the gas grill tonight.”
“Job harassment.”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m not worried. You’ve tried to fire me before.”
“Does that mean you won’t help me with the grill?”
“Of course I’ll help you with the grill.” She stretched out on her stomach with her head resting on her arm. “After all, what are friends for?”
“Is that what we are? Friends?”
She felt heat flood to her cheeks. “I don’t know what we are. Friends seems like a good place to start.”
He watched her eyelids drift closed and studied the fringe of blond lash that had received a cursory swipe with the mascara wand. Her breathing slowed, her mouth softened. She was asleep. He glanced at his watch. If he canceled the rest of his day, he could do the traffic reports and let her sleep. He mentally reviewed his agenda and grunted. There’d be hell to pay if he canceled his afternoon. He couldn’t do it.
He packed up what remained of the food and clicked the leash on Bob. He went to Elsie and spoke quietly so he wouldn’t wake Daisy.
“I have to get back to the station. Let her sleep as long as possible. She has to broadcast another traffic report in ten minutes.”
“She’s one of them givers,” Elsie said. “Never says no to anybody, but there’s only so much responsibility a person can take on.”
Steve was on the beltway when the next traffic report cued in.
“Hello, hello?” An elderly voice came over the airways. “I don’t know if I’m working this dang thing right, but if you can hear me I’m gonna give a traffic report. This is Elsie Hawkins and I’m only gonna tell you all this stuff once so you better listen up…”
Four days ago he would have been emptying the aspirin bottle, Steve thought. But here he was smiling at Elsie Hawkins. He and a couple thousand other listeners. Eventually Frank would get his cast cut off and he’d be back doing traffic in his clipped, no-nonsense manner. In the meantime, it was summer, and the listening audience was in a more relaxed frame of mind. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the offbeat reports.
Bob was sitting next to him with the seat belt clipped around his shoulders and his head out the window. His ears were flapping in the wind, and his tongue flopped out of the side of his mouth. His expression was blissful.
Steve looked at him and woofed, but Bob just kept smiling.
Chapter 5
Steve slouched behind the wheel and closed his eyes as traffic momentarily stopped. Now he remembered why he’d originally decided to live in the high-rise. It was five blocks from the station, and there was never any traffic. He hated sitting in traffic. Ten minutes ago he’d punched the radio off and put a CD into the player because he couldn’t stand hearing another depressing traffic report. There was a disabled car stuck in an intersection up ahead, and the resulting backup now stretched three miles. It would probably get worse before it got better. Not even a tow truck could cut through gridlock. A tow truck had to inch along just like everybody else.
Daisy was probably somewhere in front of him in this mess, Steve thought. He’d been delayed in a meeting, and she’d been unable to wait. Something about books due at the library and Kevin needing a ride to a friend’s house. Daisy didn’t have many minutes to spare.
He glanced in the rearview mirror at Bob. Bob was sound asleep in the back, his nose stuffed up against the air-conditioning vent. Tough life.
Steve drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, letting the car creep forward. He couldn’t wait to get a look at the idiot causing this disaster. If it turned out to be some fool who ran out of gas, he’d choke him with his bare hands.
He heard the
At least he was getting closer to the source of the problem. Cars were feeding into a single lane, and orange lights flashed in the distance, signaling that a tow truck was on the scene.
When he was three cars back from the flashing lights, traffic came to another standstill. He stuck his head out in time to hear a motor churn and catch.
A hood was slammed down while someone revved the disabled car engine. A thick cloud of black exhaust billowed over the tow truck and drifted back to Steve, temporarily obscuring his view. When the cloud lifted he could see the car that had caused the traffic jam pull ahead and proceed down the road without the aid of a tow truck. The car was old. It was covered with rust and had a coat-hanger antenna. The rear bumper dipped on the right side, where it had been snagged by another car eons ago. The paint was faded but probably had been maroon and yellow. There was only one car like it in Northern Virginia-possibly in the world. It belonged to Daisy.
“We have to get her out of that car,” Steve said to Bob. “It’s a health hazard. And it’s a threat to my sanity.”
Bob looked up from the backseat.
“I have a plan,” Steve told him. “I’m not going to tell you about it because it’s dastardly, and you’re obviously a dog of high moral fiber.”
Daisy zoomed into Steve’s driveway at seven o’clock and hit the ground running. “Sorry I’m late!” she said to Steve, adjusting the pink T-shirt she’d thrown on just five minutes earlier. A small swath of flesh was exposed between shorts and shirt, and no amount of tugging would fill in the gap. “Damn,” she said, “it must have shrunk in the dryer.”
Steve took in the cutoff denim shorts and slightly too small shirt and thought they looked perfect. He was highly in favor of exposing Daisy’s flesh.
“You’re not late. And I needed some time to unpack a few things and organize the kitchen. Moving is hell, even when you hire a great company that’s supposed to do it all for you in one fell swoop.”
Daisy looked at the brick colonial and smiled in approval. It was only a few years old and had been nicely landscaped. There was about a quarter of an acre, and the backyard was fenced. If he’d had a wife and three kids, it would have been the ideal house. As it was, it seemed a tad large for a bachelor. Of course there was Bob to help fill it.
“It’s nice,” she said. “I’ve always liked a traditional colonial.”
Steve turned to lead Daisy through the house, and she did a fast body assessment. He wore khaki shorts with a black T-shirt that showed off corded forearms and well-developed biceps. His legs had lots of muscle definition in the quads and calves. He hadn’t gotten that kind of body from sitting behind a desk all day, and she wondered how he managed to keep in such good shape. Most of the men she knew were starting to soften in the middle. Even the tennis players and spa-goers seemed to lose tone as they climbed the corporate ladder.
The front door opened to a small foyer that felt very welcoming, with a spindle-backed bench and eighteenth- century chest set against one wall. The living room was to the left. The furniture was overstuffed and comfy- looking. Very Ralph-Lauren-looking, she thought.
Brown leather and big red plaids, brass lamps, and Oriental area rugs. The dining room was to the right of the foyer. He had a formal table that seated six. The wood was dark. Mahogany, maybe. The walls were a Williamsburg print. The Realtor had been right, the print was lovely.
