she did, trotted back to drop it at his feet, they just grinned at each other.
She didn’t chase the birds, thankfully, though she did give them longing looks.
He argued with himself, but curiosity and the little boy inside him won. He hurled the ball over the water to see how she’d react.
She gave a bark of sheer, unmistakable delight and roared into the sea.
She swam like—well, a retriever, he decided, laughing all the way down in his gut until he had to brace his hands on his thighs. She swam back to shore, red ball in her teeth, wild happiness beaming from her big brown eyes.
She dropped the ball at his feet again, shook herself. Soaked him.
“What the hell?” He threw it out over the water again.
He stayed out longer than he’d planned, and his pitching arm felt like overcooked spaghetti. But man and dog were relaxed and pleased with themselves when they walked back into Bluff House.
On the kitchen island sat a clear-wrapped plate holding a cold-cut sandwich on a long roll, two pickle spears and a scoop of pasta salad. Beside it lay a Milk-Bone.
The sticky note read:
Guess which is whose.
“Funny. I guess we eat.”
He picked up the dog biscuit. The minute she spotted it, Barbie dropped her butt to the floor while the look in her eyes went slightly crazed. Like a crack addict, he thought, about to take the pipe.
“Damn it, Barbie. You’re a good dog.”
He went out on the deck and ate lunch in the sun with the dog sprawled contentedly by his chair.
His life, he decided, if you didn’t count murder, break-ins and clouds of suspicion, was pretty damn good right at the moment.
When he went back upstairs, he heard Abra singing. He poked his head into his bedroom first and, since the dog walked right in to explore, went over to see what towel art she’d left on the bed.
Unmistakably a dog, he thought. Especially since she’d fashioned a heart out of a Post-it. On it, she’d written:
BARBIE LOVES ELI
He glanced over, saw Abra had brought up a wide brown cushion. It sat on the floor near the terrace doors. Obviously, the way the dog snuggled into it, it had served as her bed before.
“Yeah, sure, make yourself at home.”
He left the dog to follow the singing.
In his grandmother’s bedroom, she had the terrace doors opened wide, though it was a bit cool yet. He saw the duvet clothespinned to some sort of portable pole flapping in the breeze.
And though Hester wasn’t there, a little vase of wild violets stood on the nightstand.
A small thing, Eli thought. Abra was good at small things that made big differences.
“Hi. How was your walk?” She picked up a pillow, shook it out of its case.
“Nice. The dog likes to swim.”
She’d noticed as she’d watched them from the terrace, and as she’d watched, her heart had simply glowed—and melted.
“It’s a perk for her, being right on the beach.”
“Yeah. She’s in on her bed, taking a nap.”
“Swimming wears you out.”
“Yeah,” he said again as he skirted the bed to her side. “What are you doing?”
“I thought since your family’s coming I’d air out the linens so they’ll be nice and fresh.”
“Good thinking. They look nice and fresh already.”
He backed her up until she fell on the bed under him.
“Eli. My schedule.”
“You’re your own boss,” he reminded her. “You can adjust the schedule.”
She accepted defeat when his hands and mouth got busy, but tried a token protest. “I could. But should I?”
He lifted his head briefly to pull off her tank. “I’m keeping the dog. No less of an ambush,” he said when her eyes lit up. “So you still have to make it up to me.”
“When you put it that way.”
Rearing up, she tugged off his shirt. “Somebody’s been working out.” She trailed her tongue over his chest.
“Some.”
“And eating his protein.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, stretched up, canted forward until she had him on his back. “I’m supposed to be cleaning your house, earning my pay, not getting naked with you in this gorgeous old bed.”
“You can call me Mr. Landon, if that helps ease your conscience.”
Her laugh was warm against his skin. “I think my conscience can be flexible in this case.”
So was she, he thought, flexible. Those long arms, long legs, the long torso. All so smooth and fluid as she moved over him, as all that wild hair feathered over his skin.
Muscles he’d begun to recognize again bunched and tensed as she