heard a familiar voice, using a really bad fake Southern accent.
“Fancy meeting you here, ma’am.”
Oh, no, not this morning. She turned to see Parker leaning casually against a barren tree in what looked like a brand-new jogging getup.
“God, give me strength,” she mumbled, and told Parker, “You really need to stop trying to sound Southern. You’re not any good at it.”
He just grinned that adorable grin, making her a tiny bit weak in the knees.
“What are you doing here?”
“It just so happens that I jog, too, and I’m always looking for a change of scenery. A different path to take. Your description of the park intrigued me so I thought I would check it out.”
“I said it was a cute little park. Which word got you? Cute? Or little?”
Despite her snippy tone he smiled.
“If I asked you to go away, would you?”
Looking apologetic, he shook his head.
Of course not. She sighed and said, “Let’s get this over with.”
They started down the path toward the pond, Parker huffing along beside her. But gradually he started to fall behind. They were no more than five minutes in, and Parker was gasping for air. She hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Then he stopped altogether, and she had to backtrack. He stood hunched over and out of breath, holding his side. “Damn, this is harder than it looks.”
Clearly he was not a jogger. And of course she planned to use that to teach him a lesson. “I’ll race you to the pond,” she said.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“I’ll make you a deal. If you can beat me there, I’ll sleep with you.”
His stunned expression was the last thing she saw as she took off running, leaving Parker in the dust.
She got to the pond and was using a bench to stretch when Parker finally wheezed his way over. He dropped like a lead weight onto the grass at her feet, red-faced and sucking cold air into his lungs.
She shook her head sadly. “I know eighty-year-olds in better shape than you.”
“You really are trying to kill me,” he gasped.
“You did lie about being a jogger. You sort of asked for it.”
“Technically I didn’t lie, because starting this morning I plan to be a regular jogger. If I don’t die from exhaustion first. Or a heart attack. I don’t suppose you have water.”
She took the bottle from her jacket pocket and handed it to him.
“Thanks.” He sat up, chugging half the bottle.
“Maybe you should head back to the house while I do my laps. When I’m finished I’ll make you breakfast. I guess I owe you that much, since I did almost kill you. Not that I was trying or anything.”
“Sure you weren’t.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Can I wait in the house?”
Did he honestly think she would fall for that one again? “Sure. If you can figure out the alarm code.”
She took off running again and he shouted after her, “You’re really going to make me sit out in the cold? I could freeze to death!”
She waved without turning around, feeling not an ounce of guilt. More than likely he had a still-warm luxury vehicle parked somewhere nearby. There would be no freezing to death for him.
She jogged her usual laps around the park, then just for fun added a few more, pushing herself harder. Maybe if she was gone a really long time, he would get bored and leave.
As if. If it had been possible to shake him off that easily, he would have been long gone by now.
When she stepped through the gate into the backyard, Parker was sitting on the steps of the upper deck, tapping away on his cell phone. So much for him leaving.
* * *
Parker heard the back gate open and looked up from his phone. Clare was cute when she was all sweaty, her hair a mess. “Good run?”
She nodded, only slightly out of breath. “It got better when I ditched you. You were dragging me down.”
“Do I still get my breakfast?”
“Yes,” she said grudgingly. She opened the back door and disarmed the alarm. “But don’t expect anything fancy.”
He tugged off his jacket and took a seat at the kitchen island. “Do I at least get coffee?”
She reached over to the coffeemaker and pressed the start button.
She used the term making breakfast loosely. What she should have said was that she would warm up breakfast for him. She “made” him one of those individually wrapped breakfast sandwiches out of the freezer.
“Make yourself useful and get the juice out of the fridge,” she said, putting the sandwich in the microwave.
He opened the refrigerator. Aside from the juice and various condiments, there were mostly just carryout containers.
He had the distinct feeling that Clare didn’t cook, which was fine, as it was one of his favorite things to do. It was a little spooky the way they seemed so perfectly matched. It was like destiny, or fate or some other crap like that.
Serendipity maybe.
She took two glasses down from the cupboard for him to fill. Then the microwave dinged and she handed him the sandwich. “Bon appétit.”
He bit in to find the middle still partially frozen, but the look she was giving him said not to push it. He forced a smile and said, “Delicious.”
“As soon as you’re finished eating you have to leave,” she said.
“Actually, it’s my day off. I can stay as long as I want.”
She gave him one of those looks, and he grinned. Damn, did he love teasing her.
“You look like a grown man,” she said. “You even sound like a grown man...”
He grinned. “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck.”
“You’re going to make me late for work,” she said.
“As your boss, I give you the day off.”
“I don’t want to take the day off. I actually like going to work.”
“That’s probably why you’re so good at it.”
She shrugged. “Well...”
“I’m serious,
