He Loves Lucy Read Free Page A

seemed pretty agile-then he saw that she was crying.
    He sighed, threw a ten down on the table, and went after her. Lucy had stopped at the corner. She was red-faced and out of breath as she waited for a chance to cross at the curb.
    “How long’s it been since you took a nice run?” Theo stood at her side, following Lucy’s blank stare toward the entrance to Eighth Street Beach and the rising sun beyond.
    “What year is this again?” The light turned and Lucy walked across Ocean Boulevard, still breathing hard.
    “That long, huh?”
    “I used to run. I gained fifty pounds during college, but before then I used to play softball and racquetball. I rode horses, skied, and hiked, too.” She turned to him in direct challenge.
    Theo couldn’t prevent the surprise from showing on his face. He was sorry Lucy saw it, because she looked away, embarrassed. “So why did you stop?”
    Lucy whipped her head around so fast her ponytail brushed his shoulder. She looked up at him with what he could only describe as dread. “No reason.”
    Theo didn’t push it. He knew that tomorrow she’d cover all the details in her client questionnaire. Today was for getting her to relax. Getting her psyched up for the long haul ahead. And so far, he’d failed miserably.
    The timing couldn’t be worse, but Theo saw a curvy little woman heading toward them who had once dated his best friend, Tyson. Theo couldn’t remember the woman’s name and was relieved when she strolled by with only a smile. Then he saw Lucy’s openmouthed stare.
    “Do you run an escort service on the side, Theo?”
    He laughed. “Naw. I just know a lot of people on South Beach.”
    “A lot of female people.”
    “And now I know you.” He smiled at her.
    Lucy was not often tongue-tied, but she was a little rusty at engaging in small talk with gorgeous hunks. The truth was, she felt just plain defenseless against Theo Redmond and his enchanting smile.
    “Where are we going, Lucy?”
    She’d apparently been staring at him in a trance, walking aimlessly. It was a wonder she hadn’t flattened a few pedestrians.
    “Wherever you take me,” she said, flinching at the lovesick eighth grader she’d become, worrying she’d just officially blown her second chance at a first impression.
    But Theo only laughed. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “You’re in good hands, Lucy Cunningham.”
     
    Office of Doris Lehman, MSW, PhD “Help. I have the hots for my trainer.”
    Lucy had barely flopped down into the familiar peach damask love seat when she made that pronouncement. She let her eyes settle on the peaceful Japanese paper folding screen in front of the window, the focal point for her meditative stares the whole year she’d been in Miami. Her eyes scanned the familiar graceful sweep of bamboo leaves and transparent cherry blossoms, the little tiny female mouths of the little tiny women in tiny kimonos and tiny wooden platform sandals.
    Tiny, tiny, tiny.
    Lucy’s therapist sat as she usually did, serene, neat, notebook perched on a crossed thigh, eyeglasses tucked on top of her heavily sprayed salt-and-pepper pageboy like a headband.
    “Have you told him you find him attractive?”
    “I can’t stop drooling long enough to form the words.”
    “I see.”
    “Besides, it’s the Brad Zirkle thing all over again, you know?” Lucy leaned forward and balanced her elbows on her knees. “Why do I always go for the ones who are out of my reach? Why do I set myself up like that?”
    Doris smiled politely. “From how you’ve described him, it would seem Theo is much nicer than Brad Zirkle.”
    “Yeah, Mr. Wonderful is still wonderful.” Lucy sighed, then snarled at the geisha girls, trying to picture how her size 22 hips would look in a kimono pulled that tight at the waist. If she had a waist. She used to have one, if she recalled correctly, but she couldn’t remember how it felt to walk around with an indentation somewhere near the