Seven Up - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,71

it. Morelli had always been so casual about his grandmother's threats and predictions.

I slipped my number 35 jersey on over my T-shirt, and Morelli and I watched the Rangers game. After the game we walked Bob, and crawled into bed.

Crash. Scratch, scratch. Crash.

Morelli and I looked at each other. Bob was foraging, knocking dishes off the kitchen counter, looking for crumbs.

"He's hungry," Morelli said. "Maybe we should lock him in the bedroom with us so he doesn't eat a chair."

Morelli got out of bed and returned with Bob. Morelli locked the door and got back into bed. And Bob jumped into bed with us. Bob turned in a circle five or six times, scratched at the quilt, turned some more, looked confused.

"He's kind of cute," I said to Morelli. "In a prehistoric way."

Bob did a few more turns and then wedged himself between Morelli and me. He laid his big dog head on a corner of Morelli's pillow, gave a sigh of contentment, and instantly fell asleep.

"You need to get a bigger bed," Morelli said.

And I didn't have to worry about birth control, either.

MORELLI ROLLED OUT of bed at the crack of dawn.

I opened one eye. "What are you doing? It's barely light out."

"I can't sleep. Bob is hogging my side. Besides, I promised the vet I'd make sure Bob got some exercise, so we're going out running."

"That's nice."

"You, too," Morelli said.

"No way."

"You're the one who stuck me with this dog. You're going to get your ass out of there and run with us."

"No way!"

Morelli grabbed me by the ankle and dragged me out of bed. "Don't make me get rough," he said.

We both stood there looking at Bob. He was the only one left in bed. He still had his head on the pillow, but he looked worried. Bob wasn't an early morning sort of dog. And he wasn't much of an athlete.

"Get up," Morelli said to Bob.

Bob squeezed his eyes shut, pretending to sleep.

Morelli tried to drag Bob out of bed and Bob growled low in his throat like he meant business.

"Shit," Morelli said. "How do you do it? How do you get him to crap on Joyce's lawn so early in the morning?"

"You know about that?"

"Gordon Skyer lives across the street from Joyce. I play racquetball with Gordon."

"I bribe him with food."

Morelli went off to the kitchen and returned with a bag of carrots. "Look what I found," he said. "You have healthy food in your refrigerator. I'm impressed."

I didn't want to burst his bubble, but the carrots were for Rex. The only way I like carrots is if they're dipped in batter and deep-fat-fried or incorporated into carrot cake with lots of cream cheese frosting.

Morelli held a carrot out for Bob, and Bob gave him a you've got to be kidding look.

I was starting to feel sorry for Morelli. "Okay," I said, "let's just get dressed and go out into the kitchen and rattle some things around. Bob will cave."

Five minutes later we were suited up and Bob was collared and clipped to his leash.

"Hold on," I said. "We can't all go out and leave the heart home alone. People break into my apartment on a regular basis."

"What people?"

"Benny and Ziggy for starters."

"People can't just walk into your house. That's illegal. That's breaking and entering."

"It's no big deal," I said. "The first couple times it caught me by surprise, but you get used to it after a while." I took the heart out of the freezer. "I'll leave this with Mr. Morganstern. He's an early riser."

"My freezer is on the blink," I told Mr. Morganstem, "and I don't want this to defrost. Could you keep it for me until dinnertime?"

"Sure," he said. "It looks like a heart."

"It's a new diet. Once a week you have to eat a heart."

"No kidding. Maybe I should do that. I've been a little sluggish lately."

Morelli was waiting for me in the parking lot. He was jogging in place, and Bob was looking bright-eyed and smiley now that he was out in the fresh air.

"Is he empty?" I asked Morelli.

"All taken care of."

Morelli and Bob took off at a brisk pace, and I slogged along behind them. I can walk three miles in four-inch heels and I can shop Morelli into the ground, but I don't do running. Now if I was running to a sale on handbags, maybe.

Little by little, I fell farther and farther behind. When Morelli and Bob turned the corner and were lost from sight, I cut