Chapter 3

The next morning, having completed another long, draining workout in the hotel gym, I stepped into the blustery predawn dimness to stretch before running. Even earlier, Sandy had departed to meet her family for a day-long Everglades trip. Once again I begged off; I had already seen far too much verdant swamp in my life. As I leaned against the wall, stretching my calves, a woman’s quiet voice called from the darkness on the far side of the covered entry.

“Good morning, Devin.” Pre-coffee; it took me several seconds to ensure I had actually heard a voice. And then my heart skipped a beat when my sluggish brain realized Rachel was the speaker.

After squinting, I made out her shadowed outline. With a wide grin, she slipped closer and continued to stretch. When my eyes focused, my heart slipped another gear. She wore only a skintight yellow sports bra; prominent twin spikes evident in the chill. Beneath her rippling abdomen, a pair of yellow-striped, pink running shorts were spray-painted to her pelvis. No curve was left to the imagination.

“Oh great! Now I have a stalker,” I joked, before plastering a silly grin on my face, hoping to cover my initial gasp at the view.

With a grunt, I tore my gaze away, groaning as I tugged on my leg. My nostrils tickled; how could she smell so ... nice. Flowery shampoo? Soap? Angelic miasma? With a shrug, I focused on the last of my stretches.

“No, no.” She chuckled. “You’re the one who’s hunting international supermodels. I’m the one who should be afraid.”

As I nodded, I laughed. No matter what else, Rachel was fun. And, when she leaned aside, I swept my eyes over her bending frame. And hot. Yeh, she was definitely that. There were much worse views with which to start a day.

“Are you?” I asked before chuckling under my breath.

“No.” As she glanced at me through the hair dangling from her long ponytail, she flashed me an impish ... and very cute ... smile.

“Good, ‘cause I’m heading out for a run.” After turning away, anxious she’d caught my lingering glance, I added. “Way too busy to hunt supermodels.”

“Could I tag along?” With that cute smile on her face, she straightened, rolling her shoulders.

“Sure.” After a last roll of my head, I gestured beyond the parking lot towards the distant sound of the rolling surf. “I run the beach. Is that okay?”

Rachel nodded, her dark ponytail swishing in the salty ocean breeze. Once we’d set off, I settled into her slower, but still swift, pace, and we were soon out on the hard-packed sand. Illuminating a layer of low-hanging shadowy clouds, the sun was no more than a purplish-orange slice smeared along the horizon. Barely visible, early rising seabirds dipped and fluttered in the chilly morning gusts. Nobody else was moving at this hour, animal or human.

Every once in a while, I caught her eyes flicking to me. In return, I glanced in her direction, puzzled over how well that sports bra worked. Remember—married, not dead. We were silent for a while, only huffing along as our sneakers crunched in the sand, until, after settling into a solid rhythm, we chatted. About the hotel. Its amenities. The town. Other fun places to visit. Just a normal conversation between running buddies. In response to her question about what I really did for a living, I replied “nothing” before explaining I had taken an early retirement from the government.

“And you?” I glanced over; yep, whoever designed that bra was a top-rate engineer.

“A model.” When Rachel saw all I did was nod with my eyebrows raised, she pursed her lips and asked. “What?”

“I’m not surprised.” While struggling to remain focused on her face, I went on. “You, if you’ll pardon the compliment, are pretty darned good looking.” As I dodged around a tardy baby turtle, I laughed before shaking my head and adding. “I was forced to do quite a bit more explaining to my wife last night. About how you just happened to come over to me, of all people, for help.”

“You’re not so bad looking, yourself,” she replied; her eyes now twinkling in the orange glow of the rising sun.

“Aw, shucks,” I countered, speaking like a nervous goof, complete with a silly, over-the-top grin.

Despite what I expected, Rachel did not laugh. Instead, she fell silent, and we ran on for a while. Though she strained at times, she maintained the pace.

“The trophy wife bit ... from yesterday.” When I spoke, Rachel jolted from her thoughts. While her pony tail billowed in the increasingly gusty wind, her gaze flashed to me. With a gulp, I added. “If that was you being truthful? Well, I don’t believe it for a second,”

“Why not?” One long-nailed finger wiped a loose strand of golden-streaked chestnut hair from her face.

“I’m sorry, but that morning ... at breakfast...” With effort, I tore my eyes from her to stare ahead. “I glimpsed the business vid you were watching. Pretty complex stuff to have as a hobby.”

“Yeh, Greg,” —Rachel chuckled— “That’s my husband, loves to call me his trophy wife, but you caught me. I run an investment firm.”

“So gorgeous, brilliant ... and rich.” It was my turn to laugh before adding. “Greg’s the lucky one.”

Though I expected a retort, Rachel fell silent for quite some time, until emitting a long sigh. Oh, I recognized that sigh. Not gonna push the topic. As such, we ran on in silence, broken only by the sound of our synchronized footfalls, pounding the hard-packed sand, and the endless surging surf. Edged by white foam, the gray, shadowy waves edged upwards, and the sun shot its first faint purple and orange horizontal stripes from beneath the thinning early morning clouds.

At long last, she broke the quiet. “What are you doing today?”

“Wife took the car and is out all day again. So, I’m probably headed to the beach to read, or maybe write. How ‘bout you?”

“Greg will be gone by the time we get back. So, I’m thinking about heading out to find a better breakfast than the hotel. Treat myself.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a good plan.” Even as I already started thinking about where I was going to take “Mark Atwater” today, I flashed her a grin.

“Would you, uh ... I mean, could you join me?” As she spoke, her eyes caught an early sunbeam.

So many shades of green circled her tight pupils. Sparkling. Amazing. My heart raced, and I struggled to stay on rhythm before exhaling and placing a grin on my face.

“Why? Stalker man still bugging you?” As much as I tried to remain flippant, my heart continued to lurch and race.

“No. You’re simply good company.” Her words were so warm and inviting. And yet, she spoke with an undercurrent of something ... Something on which I couldn’t put my finger.

“Yeh. Sure.” After a quick shrug, ignoring the thumping beneath my sweat-soaked t-shirt, I added. “Why not? A man’s gotta eat,”

“Long day of supermodel hunting ahead of you?”

“Perhaps.” When I smiled, she grinned back. Her eyes ... they deepened, narrowed to bore into me. Heart hammering, I swallowed before adding. “You never know who I may find on the beach.”

When we hit the turnaround point, we both laughed ... I’m pretty sure we both needed to relieve the tension. Because there was tension. If only for a moment. No matter, I leaned forward, focused on the run, and increased the pace. Though she struggled, Rachel kept up—proving a point?

After nearing the hotel, we exchanged a last glance before sprinting into the parking lot. For some reason, we were both chuckling between lengthy gasps as she slowed down to stretch alongside me. Both of us chose to remain silent before she nodded, flicked her matted ponytail over her shoulder, and headed into the lobby. With a final stretch, I followed her inside. Not dead; I gazed at her silhouette until it disappeared into the elevator before me. Her eyes caught mine; that weird vibe appeared in them. A tingle rippled along my spine.

Later, having met Rachel, who wore a wispy, bare-shouldered curve-hugging sundress printed with large white and yellow flowers, I followed her from the lobby. A soft whistle slipped from me when she sashayed to a very expensive, bright red foreign sports car. After an appraising scan of the impressive vehicle, I slipped into the plush fawn leather passenger seat. When she slid into the driver’s seat, a tremor drifted through me. With a brief sigh under my breath, I dragged my gaze from her long, shapely, tanned legs

“That was a good run,” she said, after dropping the car’s convertible top and pulling from the hotel lot. Whether on purpose or not, Rachel hadn’t adjusted her hem; the tops of her toned thighs glistened in the sun as she drove. My neck hurt from struggling to focus on the swimsuit and beach wear shops, shuttered restaurants, and smaller motels along the road.

When Rachel lifted her hand to the top of the wheel to make a turn, sunlight glinted off her large wedding bands. My struggle ended. With a quick nod at my own stupidity, I wrenched my wandering gaze from her daring neckline. The wind had been buffeting the loose dress material, giving me a quick glimpse beneath; she liked pink lace.

“Yeh...” After a nervous swallow, I nodded once more—this time at her. “I like the route. It’s peaceful. A pleasant break from running the roads.”

“I normally run on the treadmill in the gym.” She grinned behind dark sunglasses. Had she caught my earlier gaze? “Your wife doesn’t run with you?”

“Heck no!” For a brief second, I hesitated, unsure about over-sharing, before confessing. “Since the kids, Sandy honestly doesn’t take care of herself ... anymore.”

After a quick glance at me, Rachel nodded while turning onto a side street. “Yes, after mine, I really had to push through.”

“You have children?” My eyebrows shot up faster than the unexpected rise in my voice.

She laughed at my surprised look. “Two boys. Six and eight.”

“Really? Wow! I never would have guessed.” I pursed my lips and nodded, this time letting her watch me giving her a quick once over.

“Well, thank you, mister big-supermodel hunter.”

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