Loving Mr. July (4 page)

Obviously, the last thing she wanted to do
was run. If the newness of that loud workout outfit indicated
anything, running wasn’t something she did often. He had barely
stopped himself earlier from telling her she looked like a giant
banana. It was a comment he could easily have gotten away with if
it had been any of his guy friends, but years and experience had
taught him the wisdom of silence on occasion.

Kurt stopped, made Lucky sit. “So I usually
run to the south first, if it’s low tide. That way when we run
back, I can take Lucky to the dog area at the northern end as a
treat. This time of year, she can be off-leash. And she loves
it.”

“Run to the south,” Cynthia repeated, an
uncharacteristic look of hesitancy on her face. “How far south are
we talking?”

“If we run along the cliffs to the bridge and
back from here, it’s about four miles total. From here up to the
dog area and back, it’s another couple. So by the end of the run,
we’ll have done about six miles.”

He stopped walking when Cynthia grabbed his
arm to slow him down.

“Kurt, I’d be doing well to walk six miles,
let alone run.”

“You don’t have to,” Kurt said. “We’ll go in
that direction, you go as far as you want to. I’ll run ahead and
catch you on the way back and then we’ll head north.”

“If you’re not wanting me to run with you,
remind me again why I’m here?” Cynthia bent down to retie her
shoe.

Kurt waited until she stood back up before he
answered. “Bocher Foundation ring any bells for you?”

Cynthia raised her hand in defense. “Okay,
okay.”

Kurt started running at his usual slow,
loping, warm-up pace. Within a minute or two, it was clear that
Cynthia was suffering. Her face had taken on a red hue and her
breath was labored. He decided to take pity on her and stopped for
a minute.

“Now that we’ve warmed up, I usually stretch
a little before I pick up the pace,” he told her.

“If I pick up the pace any further, I’m going
to have a heart attack,” Cynthia said the words slowly between
gulps of breath. “My warm up was walking to the water’s edge.”

“Well, we’ve got three weeks of this. I’m
sure you’ll improve.” He kept his voice deliberately cheerful.

He thought he heard her mutter, ‘if I live
that long,’ underneath her breath.

“I’ll catch you on the way back?” At her nod,
he took off with Lucky, running quite a bit faster now.

He was out of shape too, just not as badly as
she seemed to be. And although he had coerced her into coming
partly as a payback for the way they had all backed him into a
corner, it was also true that without a workout buddy, he would
have rolled over and gone back to sleep this morning.

Running wasn’t one of his favorite
activities, especially alone. Granted, he had Lucky with him, so he
wasn’t completely alone, but he preferred the camaraderie of team
sports. Running was, however, very effective at getting him back to
shape in a hurry. And right now, it served his purpose of making
Cynthia work for her photographs.

He pushed himself to go as fast as he could
to the mouth of the marshy area underneath the highway bridges he
used to mark the turnaround. Heading back north, he saw the bright
yellow outfit far before he could recognize her face.

She wasn’t running. Wasn’t even walking.

She was quite animatedly talking with a man.
Doing more than talking, apparently, as he watched her run her
fingers over the man’s abs.

The man laughed and gave her a hug.

She couldn’t be friendly to him, but within
half an hour of time by herself, she had managed to engage the only
other fool on the beach this early in conversation? And just why
was the guy running shirtless when it couldn’t be more than 55
degrees out?

“What happened to running?” Kurt called out
as he approached, trying to hold back an odd feeling of
irritation.

Cynthia turned abruptly to him, a rather
guilty look on her face. The man with her just grinned, and kept
his arm loosely over Cynthia’s shoulders.

He felt like punching the guy. A fact that
was more than a little disturbing, seeing as not only was it
totally out of character, but it begged the question of why?

“Kurt! You’re back fast.” Cynthia sounded
overly cheerful to his ears.

She also leaned a little into the guy at her
side. It made him even more irritated. The guy looked as if he knew
it too.

“Kurt, meet Sam. Sam, Kurt.” Cynthia rattled
off the introductions.

Kurt automatically held out his hand.

“I understand you’re doing the calendar this
year,” Sam said, a big smile on his face as he took Kurt’s hand in
a firm grip.

Kurt raised his eyebrows at Cynthia. Surely
she wasn’t telling everyone about their deal? How much
embarrassment did one guy have to take?

“Sam was Mr. October for the Bocher
Foundation a couple of years ago,” Cynthia told him.

“Ah,” Kurt said, suddenly glad that a shirt
covered his own stomach, but he couldn’t stop himself from sucking
it in anyway.

“Our firemen hunks of San Diego County year.”
Cynthia developed a keen interest in one of her fingernails.

Sam was a fireman. That had to be why the man
was in such amazing shape. Being fit was part of his job, right?
Kurt decided to cut himself some slack. “So was the whole auction
process as scary as it sounds?”

Sam laughed. “A little. Sort of feel like a
piece of meat up there. But it’s all for a great cause. A couple of
other guys from our station were in it too, so we had fun with
it.”

“That would make it easier,” Kurt
acknowledged, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his
shirtsleeve. “I’m getting major ribbing from my staff.”

“Goes with the territory.” Sam nodded. “If it
makes you feel any better, I did extra workouts for a couple of
months before my shoot.”

“Seeing as I only have three weeks, because I
was just coerced into doing this yesterday, no, it doesn’t make me
feel much better.” Kurt gave Sam a smile to soften the sarcasm.

“Rough.” Sam sympathized. “Just don’t work my
favorite girl here too hard.” Sam hugged Cynthia again before he
dropped his arm.

Cynthia’s smile lit up her face. Not for the
first time, Kurt wondered why she only looked like that for other
people.

Sam gave Kurt another friendly handshake
before taking off in the direction from which Kurt had just
come.

Kurt looked at Cynthia. She appeared a little
flushed. Whether that was from exertion or guilt, he wasn’t sure.
“You date him or something?”

“Sam?” Cynthia asked. Her look of wonder gave
way to giggles. “No! Why?”

Kurt shrugged. “Seemed pretty cozy when I ran
up.”

“He’s a good friend.” She turned around to
fall in step with him.

“You that familiar with all your male
friends?” He started a slow jog.

“Jealous?”

“Just a question.” Kurt subtly increased the
pace. “As long as you’re at my house for the morning run and
evening gym workout everyday for the next three weeks, doesn’t
really matter who you shack up with.”

“Who. I. Shack. Up. With?” Cynthia puffed out
the words, her volume increasing with each one.

“And don’t bring them to my house
either.”

“Of all the rude…” Cynthia gasped air in big
gulps. She abruptly stopped.

Kurt kept running, kicking himself as he did.
What was it about her that got to him? What did it matter if she
ran her hands over some guy’s washboard abs? There were plenty of
women out there to keep him company.

He picked up the pace even further, punishing
himself, trying to run away from the little niggle in his gut that
was shame.

Cynthia glanced at her watch. Only one hour
remained before she was supposed to be back at Kurt’s house. Not
that she wanted to go anywhere within a hundred miles of the place.
But a commitment was a commitment.

She still seethed over his comment from the
morning. Did he really think she would bring other guys to his
house? He hardly knew her, why would he think that?

Granted, she had been a little too free with
her favors in the past. Her counselor, when she finally got the
courage to go to one, had told her that was often the case with
child abuse victims. She had made her peace with it as best she
could a number of years ago.

With the help of good friends and excellent
counseling, she had grown to respect herself more. But that didn’t
mean she couldn’t still engage in friendly flirtation. She liked
men. Liked their easy way of kidding each other, the way they
looked, the way they felt.

Had he heard of her past reputation somehow?
The worry grew into a knot in her stomach. She took a breath and
tried to calm herself. He’d only met her recently. And they hadn’t
run in the same circles. He couldn’t possibly have known, she told
herself.

“Trying to kill the keyboard?” Sharon put the
day’s receipts on the office desk. “And who is the black look
for?”

“Ever feel the urge to do someone bodily
harm?” Cynthia sat back in the office chair, stretching her arms
behind her back.

“On more than one occasion,” Sharon replied
without hesitation. “And it was usually some guy.” She moved a
stack of files off the second office chair so she could sit down.
“What gives?”

“Blake sort of cornered Kurt into doing the
calendar, right?”

“And for that you want to do him bodily
harm?” Sharon raised one eyebrow. “Think I might have something to
say about that.”

Cynthia smiled despite her pique. “How would
you feel about losing a brother-in-law?”

“I don’t understand. I thought you were
thrilled to have him be the last minute fill in.” Sharon’s brow
creased. “And Blake told me Kurt didn’t seem that upset about
it.”

“That’s because he doesn’t blame you.”
Cynthia toyed with her pen, trying to decide how much to tell
Sharon. “He thinks I set you guys up to the whole company
newsletter thing. And he wants me to pay.”

“Seriously?”

Cynthia nodded, and decided to tell Sharon
about Kurt’s requirements.

By the end of the story, Sharon’s mouth gaped
open. “And you agreed? I know you’re dedicated to the foundation,
but come on!”

“What was I going to do?” Cynthia stood up,
started pacing, wincing a little from the stiffness in her legs. “I
need him. He wouldn’t do it otherwise.”

“You believe that.” Sharon said flatly. She
looked incredulous.

“You didn’t see him, Sharon.” Cynthia
described their meeting in the barn the previous evening. “I’ve
never seen the guy mad like that. You know how he’s usually
charming.” Then again, she thought to herself, this morning he
hadn’t been so charming either.

Sharon nodded. “Never seen him in a bad mood.
Blake tells me Kurt can be ruthless, but it’s hard for me to
picture.”

“Well I seem to bring out the worst in
him.”

“He must really like you.” Sharon’s eyes
sparkled.

“Oh please, what are we, back in kindergarten
now? The guy that picks on you does it because he likes you?”
Cynthia tossed the pen onto the desk. “I’d like to think I’ve moved
beyond stupid.”

“I don’t mean like that.” Sharon waved her
off. “It’s just that Kurt is sort of unflappably pleasant to most
people. And it’s genuine. Even though he doesn’t suffer fools well,
he gives people benefit of the doubt. But when he really cares
about something, he’s way more passionate.”

Cynthia snorted. “The guy can have his pick
of women. He’s not passionate about me, I guarantee you that.
Although after a few days of Carl’s initial recipes, he’s going to
feel passionate all right. Passionate about how much he wants me to
go away.” She grinned at Sharon.

“I so wish I could be a fly on the wall.”

“I’ll give you a full report,” Cynthia said,
giving Sharon a wink. “Assuming I live that long. But in the mean
time, we need to talk marketing.”

“Oh goodie.” Sharon let out an expansive
sigh.

“Relax. I’ve done all the hard work.” Cynthia
pulled two layouts out from underneath a pile of papers on the
desk. “I just need your artistic eye’s opinion of these two
comps.”

She walked over to a cork bulletin board,
grabbed a few stickpins and hung the two layouts side by side.

Sharon walked over. “Am I reviewing the
graphic choices or the words?”

“You don’t get to touch the words.”

Sharon made a face.

Cynthia gave her an apologetic shrug. “We
know how your advertisements fly.”

“They didn’t bomb that bad.”

“When you have the word bomb in any sentence
that’s assessing your success, it’s not a good thing.”

Sharon pouted at her.

“Just saying.” Cynthia put up her hands.
“Besides, you’re the artist. That’s why you hired me to help on the
business side.”

Looking back to the comps, Sharon cocked her
head, a finger on her chin, and considered. “They are both good. I
like the clean lines in this one.”

She pointed to the left comp that showed four
individual photographs of various art deco vases shot on a glassy
green background with the advertising text flowing between the
photos. “And using the graphics from the vase as a border is a nice
touch.”

Cynthia nodded. “The design firm is trying to
move us beyond country kitsch.”

“But it’s a little sterile. Too corporate.”
Sharon continued. She tapped the other comp. “This evokes the
feeling of Grandma’s better.”

“You sure you’re not getting stuck in a rut
here?” Cynthia frowned at the second comp, primarily composed of
just one exterior photo of the barn the shop occupied, and using a
western-style font. “Remember, we’re trying to move beyond the blue
hair set. And that ad isn’t going to portray the variety of stock
we carry.”