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walk.”
    “I don’t walk. But if you can keep up, you’re welcome to talk.” He turned and started jogging, his dog valiantly trying to follow close on his heels.
    Seriously? He wanted her to jog with him? Actually, no. He wanted to get rid of her. He probably thought this was the best way. Outrun the girl with the chubby cheeks, why don’t you.
    A fit of anger overtook her. She wasn’t an invalid for Pete’s sake. She’d eaten a few too many French fries was all. She could run. At least as fast as that. Ready to shove his words back down his throat, she started off on a pace slightly faster than what he was doing so that she’d catch up.
    The loafers on the rocky soil weren’t helping though. After a few steps she could feel sand filling up the spaces around her feet.
    Cursing, she stopped once to shake each shoe out, then started after him again. She’d almost caught up to the dog when she tripped. She stumbled on the ground, her hands sliding out to break her fall, collecting some scrapes along the way.
    Jamison turned back, scowling at her the entire way. He lifted her to her feet as if all those French fries were a figment of her imagination. For a second their hands brushed and she tried to pretend her stomach didn’t flip as a result.
    “Are you all right?”
    “I guess,” she said grudgingly. Except she was embarrassed, her knee was throbbing and she suspected she was about to burst into tears at any moment. She’d fallen down in front of him. He’d had to pick her up. How much more pathetic did it get?
    “If you can’t keep up, you can’t keep up. See you around.”
    Great, she thought as she stood there watching the man and his dog take off down the beach without her. She knew it was probably her imagination, but the dog’s tail seemed to wag a little harder.
    Even Shep was mocking her.

CHAPTER THREE
    T HE NEXT DAY , Jamison headed for his daily jog, but was stopped before he could even start. Perhaps he should have been surprised by the sight of Gabby on the beach waiting for him. He wasn’t. As a man who prided himself with being honest—at least with himself—he had to admit he was…delighted to see her again.
    He really didn’t want to think about what that reaction meant.
    Instead, right now he had the persistent editor who wanted to be a writer to deal with. He’d much rather deal with the attractive woman, but it was clear her professional persona came first.
    Damn.
    After leaving her in his dust yesterday, Jamie knew he hadn’t seen the last of her. She’d been wounded and humiliated, but he got the sense she wouldn’t quit so easily. He’d expected to find her stalking him into town. Or maybe hiding out in his bushes. What he didn’t anticipate was her making a second attempt to keep up with him running.
    Her hair was tied in a ponytail. Those long dark waves hanging down her back were giving him fits at night. He was imagining all sorts of dirty things he’d like to do with that hair. Not the least of which was grip it tightly in his hand while he thrust into her from behind.
    Swell, he was getting aroused before his run. That was not going to be comfortable.
    “I wasn’t prepared yesterday so I went shopping,” she said, indicating the Lycra running pants and pullover she wore.
    “I see that,” he murmured. Her legs looked long in the sleek black material. The pullover she wore came down over her hips, which, like most women, she obviously wanted to hide. But the legs were all out there for him to see and they looked pretty damn good. “You think you can keep up now you have the right equipment?”
    She raised her arms over her head and put one leg behind the other as if she was stretching. Then she switched legs after only a moment letting him know she had no clue what she was doing.
    “I’m going to give it my best try. You did say we could talk while we run.”
    Right. He ran five eight-minute miles every day. As an obvious novice she had no hope of keeping