Foul Play - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,13
emotions. Until that chicken and Jacob Elliott had entered her life, anyway.
“I’m not myself,” she explained to the empty house. “I’ve turned into an airhead. Ugh, how awful.” She left her shoes in the small foyer and padded barefoot to the kitchen.
An hour later she had rolled out two homemade pizza crusts; covered them with a coating of spaghetti sauce, thin-sliced onions, peppers, and mushrooms; topped the pizzas with a thick layer of mozzarella cheese; and popped them into the oven. She laid a place setting on the little kitchen table, delighting in the familiar ritual of eating peacefully, and breathed a sigh of relief that her life was coming back together.
Everything about her was normal. Normal kitchen table. Normal kitchen light. Normal kitchen clock. She slouched into a chair. “Hmmm.” She didn’t feel normal. She felt … agitated. She needed exercise. The soles of her feet fairly buzzed with the need to move.
“Okay feet, now what?” Her bare feet did a little tap dance on the tile floor and led her to the discarded running shoes. Amy changed into running shorts and a T-shirt, laced up her shoes and remembered the pizza. She pulled the aromatic rounds out of the oven, set them on the counter to cool, and let her feet carry her out the front door.
Twenty minutes later she returned to find Jake sitting in her kitchen, eating her pizza. “The door was open,” he explained.
“That’s what Goldilocks said.”
“You shouldn’t go out and leave your door open. Some pervert could waltz right in.”
Amy bit her lip.
Her hair was dark with sweat and plastered to her face in Betty Boop ringlets. Her shirt was soaked through, a sheen of moisture clung to her flushed face and bare arms, and her breathing was slightly labored. It was the first time Jake had ever gotten turned on by sweat.
“Been running?” he asked, making an effort not to spring out of his chair and pin her to the floor.
Amy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Yeah.” She took a deep cleansing breath. “I love to run. Running always relaxes me.”
“Me too.”
Amy looked at him in delighted surprise. “How often do you run?”
He crossed his fingers under the table. “Every day. Couldn’t do without it.” The truth was, he hated running. He found it incredibly boring, preferring to get his exercise in a pickup game of football or a fast sprint to the refrigerator. But the prospect of laboring alongside Amy was irresistibly appealing.
“Maybe we could run together. I don’t live far from here. We could run every night after work,” Jake said.
“You sure you want to run with me? I’d probably slow you down.”
“I wouldn’t mind slowing down some. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to, to pace myself with.” Was she buying this? Jake wondered, nonchalantly dabbing at his mouth with his napkin.
Amy cut herself a slice of pizza and nibbled at the end. She ran to relax. How could she relax if Jake was matching her stride for stride … in shorts.
She poured out two glasses of iced tea and sat across from him at the table. You’re making a big deal about nothing, she told herself. The man just wants a running partner to break up the monotony. It’s a perfectly harmless offer … from a harmless, incredibly attractive veterinarian. No big deal. She could handle it.
Jake stared at the empty pizza pan and felt a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry about the pizza. I couldn’t help myself. I was on my way home, minding my own business, and suddenly my car was surrounded by pizza fumes. I tried to resist, but it was impossible. I guess you think I’m a weak man.”
Amy looked at him sideways. “I think you’re full of … pizza. Why are you here?”
“I came to pick up my TV dinners. I forgot to take them yesterday. The part about not being able to resist your pizza is true, though. And, well, I guess I came over to ogle you a little bit, too.” Oh boy, did he just say that? “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say that. I swear, it just popped out.”
“It just popped out, eh?”
“No. Well, actually … yes.”
Amy wasn’t sure how to respond to being ogled, so she busied herself with a large bite of pizza.
“Do you mind?” Jake asked.
She might have known he wouldn’t be the sort of man to let it rest. There was an evil smile twitching at the corners of