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mail.”
    “Did you find anything so far?”
    “Not much. A few poems, some song lyrics. A dirty limerick here and there. Some poor slob even drew you some pictures.”
    She took the envelope he produced from his jean pocket. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
    “Well, we didn’t find any leads. That’s bad.” He rubbed his temples and headed back to the couch. “But there was nothing there to find so we didn’t miss anything. That’s good.”
    “So we’ve split sets. Now what?”
    “We make some more coffee after you tell me what the hell a split set is.”
    “It’s a tennis term,” she giggled and sat down across from him in the recliner. “We’ve won one and lost one. It means were even.”
    “Still don’t get it.”
    “Okay, let me put it in simple terms you can understand.” “Say three women hit on you in a bar. Of the first two, one was really hot and one was butt ugly. You’d be even. You’ve split sets. Got it?”
    “I guess so.” He nodded proudly, as if he had mastered quantum physics. “Are you trying to impress me with your tennis lingo?”
    “Just trying to relate.”
    “Well, speaking of tennis, I thought that was something we could do today. We could go hang out at the tennis pavilion and grab some lunch. Maybe you want to hit the ball around a little.”
    She felt her jaw fall to her lap. “Are you crazy, Harrison? I’m not ready.”
    “To play a match maybe, but you got to start somewhere.”
    “No way.” She pushed herself up from the chair and stood in front of him. “Dragging you around in public with me is one thing, but playing tennis is quite another. I still wear a sling half the time.”
    “On your left arm not your right and you don’t really need the sling at all.”
    “How would you know?”
    “I just do. The body is able, sweetheart. It’s that head of yours,” he tapped his forehead, “that needs to be straightened out.”
    He said it simply, like it should have been as obvious to her as it was to him. She didn’t protest . What was the point?
    “It’s okay to be afraid you know. You’ve been away. You don’t know what to expect. Totally understandable.”
    She studied his face, his kind eyes disarming her. “I guess.”
    “Look, you said you wanted to play tennis again. Your boy toy is out of town, you’ve got nothing better to do. Plus, it gives me the opportunity to do some research.”
    “How is watching me play tennis helping you investigate.”
    “How is sitting around painting your toenails helping your game?”
    She shot him the meanest look she could muster. “Fine! I’ll play. But just for the record, I am not afraid. I am the best tennis player in the world. People are afraid of me.”
    “That’s the spirit. Now get dressed and grab your racquet. I’ll meet you in the car in ten minutes.”
    She watched him retreat out the door before she took a last swig from her coffee. A little tennis couldn’t hurt. Lord knew she missed it. Maybe the body was ready for the test. When she looked down at her arm, she smiled.
    She was holding the cup in her left hand.
    ***
    If no one told him, Jake would have never guessed Summer had been injured. Not that he knew much about tennis, but the agile beauty on the court in front of him certainly didn’t move like a person in chronic pain. In fact, he was sure he detected a hint of a smile.
    He couldn’t help smiling himself. Watching a bombshell like her was not the worst assignment he could think of. He loved how her long, blond braid tickled the top of her rear when she strutted across the court. Trim and tight. Just the way he liked his women. He could tell this morning just by how she felt under him.
    An angel in white , he thought, loving how the milk colored outfit hugged her in all the right places. Feeling a sudden breeze, he lifted up his sunglasses. When it registered with hardened nipples against her dress he smiled, secretly thanking God for inventing spandex.
    “She’s