headed back out. She stretched the cramps and kinks out of her long
limbs in front of the Ulysses S Grant statue and started her run.
She headed west, past the Air and Space Museum, and then by the
Smithsonian castle that, with its towers and battlements and
twelfth-century-style Italian architecture, looked more like a mad
scientist’s home than anything else.
Her easy, methodical strides took her across the Mall at its widest
point and she circled the Washington Monument twice.
Her breath was coming a little quicker now; the sweat began to seep
through her T-shirt and blot the Georgetown Law sweatshirt she was
wearing. As she made her way along the fringes of the Tidal Basin, the
crowds of people grew thicker. The early fall brought plane-, bus- and
carloads of people from across the country hoping to miss the summer
crush of tourists and the infamous Washington heat.
As she swerved to avoid one errant child she collided with another
runner coming the other way. They went down in a tangle of arms and
legs.
“Shit.” The man rolIed over quickly and then sprang back up. She started
to get up, looked at him, an apology on her lips, and then abruptly sat
back down. A long moment went by as camera-toting clans of Arkansans and
Iowans danced around them.
“Hello, Kate.” Jack gave her a hand up and helped her to a spot under
one of the now bare cherry blossom trees that encircled the Tidal Basin.
The Jefferson Memorial sat big and imposing across the calm water, the
tall silhouette of the country’s third President clearly visible inside
the rotunda.
Kate’s ankle was starting to swell. She took off her shoe and sock and
began to rub it out. , “I didn’t think you’d have time to run anymore,
Jack.”
She looked over at him: no receding hairline, no paunch, no lines on the
face. Time had stood still for Jack Graham.
She had to admit it, he looked great. She, on the other hand, was an
absolute and total disaster.
She silently cursed herself for not getting that haircut and then cursed
herself again for even thinking that. A drop of sweat plunged down her
nose, and she brushed it away with an irritable swipe of her hand.
“I was wondering the same thing about you. I didn’t think they let
prosecutors go home before midnight. Slacking Off?”
“Right.” She rubbed her ankle, which really hurt. He saw the pain,
leaned over and took her foot in his hands. She flinched back. He looked
at her.
“Remember I used to almost do this for a living and you were my best and
only client. I have never seen a woman with such fragile ankles, and the
rest of you looks so healthy.”
She relaxed and let him work the ankle and then the foot, and she soon
realized he had not lost his touch. Did he mean that about looking
healthy? She frowned. After all, she had dumped him. And she had been
absolutely right in doing so.
Hadn’t she?
“I heard about Patton, Shaw. Congratulations.”
“Aw shucks. Any lawyer with millions in legal business could’ve done the
same thing.” He smiled.
“Yeah, I read about the engagement in the paper too. Congratulations
twice.” He didn’t smile at that one. She wondered why not.
He quietly put her sock and shoe back on. He looked at her. “You’re not
going to be able to run for a day or two, it’s pretty swollen. My car’s
right over there. I’ll give you a lift.”
“I’ll just take a cab.”
“You trust a D.C. cabbie over me?” He feigned offense.
“Besides, I don’t see any pockets. You going to negotiate a free ride?
Good luck.”
She looked down at her shorts. Her key was in her sock.
He had already eyed the bulge. He smiled at her dilemma.
Her lips pressed together, her tongue slid along the bottom one. He
remembered that habit from long ago. Although he hadn’t seen it for
years, it suddenly seemed like he had never been away.
He stretched out his legs and stood up. “I’d float you a loan, but I’m