Heart of Dixie - Tami Hoag (1) (7 page)

If that was a cat, he would eat his typewriter.

He let the screen door shut with a squeak and a bang and went across the living room to the desk, where he opened his file box. With a thoughtful frown he lifted out an eight-by-ten glossy of Devon Stafford. A shiny black dress clung to her slim body like wet silk, emphasizing her delicate slenderness. The world-famous mane of platinum hair tumbled all around her like a frozen waterfall. She pouted at the camera, her lips like ripe berries, slick and plump, an erotic contrast to the taut angular planes of her face.

She was what he had come looking for.

She was gorgeous.

She was perfect.

Jake let the photograph fall back into the box as he wondered if Devon Stafford would have taken in a dog with three legs.

Dixie lay on her bed listening to the nonsensical mumbling of the television on the next floor. David Letterman was going through his nightly top ten list. She could tell by the cadence of the voice and the timing of her cousin's bursts of raucous laughter. She scowled up at the ceiling and the noise. Sometimes she really wished she weren't such a kindhearted soul. Tonight she would have liked to have had the house to herself so she could listen to its creaking and moaning. She would have liked to have been completely alone so she could have wallowed in the sense of loneliness that was assaulting her.

She wasn't one given to fits of self-pity. She firmly believed that life was what a person made of it. For a while, what she had made of hers was a mess, but she had turned that all around. She had been so happy, so content recently. Now all that seemed to have come unraveled like a cheap sweater. The appearance of Jake Gannon in her life had disrupted her sense of calm and had resurrected needs she had conveniently forgotten.

Wild hoots of laughter sounded above her, followed by stamping. Something had evidently struck her cousin's funny bone in a big way. Unamused herself, Dixie got up off the bed. She grabbed the golf club she kept propped in the corner, climbed up on the bed and hit the ceiling a few times. Almost immediately the noise subsided.

Dixie lay back down on her belly and stared out the window. The light in Jake's cottage was on. He was like the handsome stranger in old westerns, she thought. Riding into town unannounced, unknown, upsetting the quiet surface of the people's placid lives like a stone thrown in a pond. That was undoubtedly part of his attraction, beyond the obvious fact that he was gorgeous and radiated sex appeal like a furnace blasts heat. He was a reminder from her past, from a previous life. A reminder of the seductive allure of pretty, polished things. A reminder she didn't want.

He wouldn't be here long. He would stay a few days, until Eldon had his Porsche repaired, and then the handsome stranger would be gone and Dixie's life would settle back into the quiet routine she loved. Well, almost. She would have to have her cousin vacate the attic before things truly returned to normal, but that would happen, eventually, once Dee had settled a few things for herself.

The point was, Jake Gannon was just passing through. She had to keep her wits about her and make sure he wasn't toting her heart with him when he left. FIVE

"I SHOULD LIVE so long to see a man that good looking!" Sylvie Lieberman exclaimed, smacking Dixie on the shoulder.

They sat side by side on the wide stairs of the porch, sharing morning coffee and a view of the ocean. Jake had just jogged past, with Dixie's dogs cavorting at his heels.

In her sixties, Sylvie was trim and fashion-conscious. This morning she was decked out in a royal purple lounging outfit with a paisley silk scarf fluttering at her throat. Her small thin hands bore a load of jewelry and the spots and wrinkles of age, but her face was remarkably free of lines, thanks to her brother-in-law, a plastic surgeon from Scarsdale.

"My God, Dixie," she said. "Is he gorgeous or what? You didn't tell me he was so gorgeous!" "He's okay," Dixie said grudgingly, absently stroking Cyclops, the one-eyed cat lounging on her lap.

"What's the matter with you? He's to die for!"

Sylvie smacked her again and Dixie's coffee spilled. "Criminy, Sylvie, you're giving me a bruise!"

Sylvie put on her wounded mother face and splayed a bejeweled hand across her chest. "Oh. I'm sorry. You completely miss that this man you've taken in is to die for, and this is my fault? Sometimes I don't know what's the matter with you, Dixie. I don't know what's the matter with your hormones. Maybe what you need is to see a good gynecologist."

"There's nothing the matter with my hormones," Dixie grumbled, her eyes following Jake's progress down the beach.

He had a beautiful stride. His long legs were dusted with just the right amount of golden hair. The muscled thighs and calves were displayed in all their tanned perfection by a loose-fitting pair of navy blue running shorts topped by a gray sweatshirt. Dixie couldn't keep her eyes off those magnificent athlete's legs. She watched until he and the dogs were just pin dots down at the south edge of the property.

No, there was nothing wrong with her hormones. They had been in a raging turmoil from the moment she'd met Jake Gannon. She'd crawled into bed the night before to seek the solace of sleep, but all she'd gotten were dreams of impossibly perfect men with golden hair and Robert Redford smiles. She had awakened ornery as a bear with fleas, cursing Jake Gannon and cursing herself. She'd come to Mare's Nest for peace. She'd wrestled all her demons and settled into a life of comfortable routine. She didn't care to have that routine disrupted.

"I don't need this," she muttered, glaring at Jake as he turned and headed back up the beach, dogs bouncing along around his ankles.

"Of course you need this," Sylvie said, her voice becoming gentle with understanding. "You're a lovely young woman. You need a man in your life. That's nature. Who are you to fight nature?"

"Maybe I could use a man in my life," Dixie conceded. "But not this one."

"What are you--crazy?" Sylvie asked incredulously, slapping Dixie's shoulder once again.

"He's to die for!"

Dixie winced at the blow but didn't take her eyes off Jake. Jake with the wind riffling his golden hair and color accenting his high cheekbones. He was just too perfect. Perfection to die for.

The thought brought a painful rush of memories. Memories of someone who had done just that in the pursuit of perfection--died. Her dear, sweet friend who had wanted so badly to please people who cared for nothing but profit, people who believed pretty perfect girls were a dime a dozen. How easily Dixie could have killed herself in pursuit of perfection. Other people had driven her mercilessly to achieve it, not for her sake but for their own. She thought of her cousin, hiding out in the attic because she had tried just a little too hard to achieve someone else's idea of perfection. No, she didn't need a man who lived and breathed the word.

Sylvie wrapped an arm around her and gave her a sympathetic squeeze. "You can't tie everything to the past, doll. That's all behind you now. You think I don't know how you suffered? You think everyone who knows you here, everyone who loves you, doesn't know how you suffered? That's all over. Start living again, Dixie."

"I've been living," Dixie argued. "I've been living fine. I don't need some California hunk to make my life complete."

"No, but that's some nice icing to put on the cake, isn't it?" Sylvie said. Her gaze locked on Jake as he altered his route and jogged up the incline toward them. "He's a perfectionist," Dixie hissed under her breath as if it were a religion on par with Satanism.

"So he's got a little flaw," Sylvie said through her teeth. "Men can be trained, you know. Make an effort. You can work that out of him."

Dixie rolled her eyes. Sylvie talked as if Jake were a designer suit with a snag in the sleeve, a bargain at a Garment District discount store she should snap up and repair.

"Morning, ladies," Jake said with a grin as he came to a stop at the foot of the stairs. He stood with his hands at his waist. The dogs all flopped into an exhausted heap around his feet, but he was barely out of breath, Dixie noted with disgust.

"So are you going to introduce me to your friend or what?" Sylvie asked, elbowing her in the ribs.

"Cripes, Sylvie, you're gonna put me in the hospital," Dixie groused. Rubbing her side, she scowled from one tormentor to the other. "Sylvie Lieberman, Jake Gannon. Jake is a writer."

"Oh, really?" Sylvie beamed, displaying caps and pumping Jake's hand enthusiastically. "My Sid, God rest his soul, was an agent. What have you written, Jake? I'm thinking maybe I've read you. There's something familiar about you."

Jake's smile tightened. "Oh, I doubt it. I'm working on a mystery. Hasn't sold yet."

"Hmm...isn't that funny? I could have sworn there was something..." She let the thought trail off and rubbed her knuckles back and forth across her mouth as she pondered.

Jake turned his attention to Dixie. "I was just out for a little morning exercise. Want to come along? I see you're dressed for it."

Dixie glanced down at the old gray sweatpants and maroon hooded sweatshirt she wore. "These aren't exercise clothes. These are lounging-around-on-the-porch clothes. I don't do exercise. It's against my religion."

"Come on," Jake prodded. "It's good for you. Everybody needs to get up and get their blood going." And possibly get their tongue going about the person living in their attic, he added mentally.

Dixie sniffed, looking pointedly at Honey and Hobbit, who were doing their best dead dog impressions. Bob Dog rolled onto his back and whined. "You wore my dogs plumb out, now you want to start on me? No thanks."

Sylvie smacked her on the arm. "What's the matter with you? You've got something wrong with your legs now? You can't go for a walk with the man?"

It was a tempting thought. She could walk with Jake, slow him down, start on that reformation project. It was too tempting. What could be in it for her besides trouble? The satisfaction of having tried to pull a man off the perfection mill and get him to smell the roses? Maybe, but he wasn't going to be here long enough for any long-term changes.

Then that made it safe for her to try, though, didn't it, a little voice whispered in the back of her head. In the few days Jake would be here maybe she could make a small impression on him. And there wouldn't be enough time for anything catastrophic to happen to her heart, would there?

She thought of the lives she had seen ruined by that drive to attain the unattainable. Now she could do something to sway someone from that course.

She pushed herself to her feet with mixed feelings of reluctance and resolution. "I guess a walk along the beach might be nice at that. Beats the heck out of sitting here having Sylvie whup the tar out of me."

"Great." Jake grinned, turning and heading for the hard- packed sand just above the water line, his strides long and energetic. He glanced back over his shoulder at her. "Let's go!" he said, clapping his big hands together enthusiastically. "Let's get that heart rate up."

The old spirit of competition prodded Dixie to quicken her pace, but she held back, forcing Jake to slow down.

"I used to jog," she said matter-of-factly, bending over to snatch up a tiny shell. Strolling along, she examined the curl of the delicate piece, the soft polished pink of the inside. "I used to run five miles a day. Gave myself shinsplints and about ruined my knees. Walking is nicer anyway, don't you think? I never noticed all the colors in the ocean when I was running past it."

Jake looked out at the water rolling endlessly, the early morning sun streaking a river of molten gold across it, the ever-changing hues of indigo, aquamarine, slate, turquoise. It was beautiful and he guessed it wouldn't hurt to walk along and enjoy it a little bit as he tried to pry some answers out of Dixie. He leaned down and grabbed a stick of driftwood and tossed it up the beach. Abby hobbled out from under one of the cottages to go after it, tail wagging happily.

On the porch of the northernmost cottage a bare-chested man with long blond hair crouched, pointing and staring off into the distance. Jake's step faltered a little. The guy was built like an all-star wrestler and had a face that belonged on a slab of granite. "That's Fabiano," Dixie said. "Doing his t'ai chi. He claims it's a balm to the soul."

"So I've heard. I used to know a major who swore by it."

"What about you?"

"My soul doesn't need soothing. I run out all the kinks. What about you?"

Dixie's step faltered as she looked up at Jake. There was a genuine concern in his eyes. He wasn't just asking to be polite; he really wanted to know. He studied her with those steady eyes, waiting. Maybe he wasn't just another pretty face. Maybe she hadn't been fair in labeling him as shallow, concerned only with surface appearances.

She was on the verge of giving him an answer when Fabiano spotted them. He broke his meditation, leaped off the porch and charged toward them, his long hair flying behind him, his dark eyes burning as bright as a zealot's.

Jake turned toward Dixie, ready to fling her aside and protect her. The madman coming at them loomed larger and larger. He was dressed in skintight black leather knee breeches and a wide leather belt he had undoubtedly cut from the hide of a woolly animal. He came to an abrupt stop two feet from Dixie, reaching a hand behind him like a pirate going for a knife. Jake stepped between them, bracing his broad shoulders back, estimating how best to take the other man out without hurting him badly. Fabiano had the size advantage, which made a couple of well-placed kicks seem the best way to go. He spoke to Dixie over his shoulder in a tight voice. "Run for the house. Call 911."

Her tinkling laughter almost broke his concentration. She slipped around him, insinuating herself between the two men, and gave the hulking giant a bright smile.

"Morning, Fabiano. Don't mind Jake here. I think you kinda took him by surprise," she said. "Jake is staying for a few days."

The big man eyed Jake severely, looking for flaws, then smiled slyly at Dixie and winked, bringing bright dots of color to her cheeks.