Tribute

close.”
    “Yeah, it is. Come take a look at this.”
    He gestured, then opened a flat-panel cherry door she’d admired. Lower level, she assumed and, since touring houses always appealed, started down with him.
    “Nice stairs again,” she commented. “Whoever built this place really . . . Oh. Man.”
    Struck with admiration and not a little envy, she stopped at the base. The slope of the hill opened the lower level to the rear of the house through wide glass doors and windows, and a small and pretty slate patio beyond, where the dog currently sprawled on his back, feet straight up, sleeping.
    But inside, on safety mats over the wide-planked oak floor, stood the machines. In silence, she wandered, studying the elliptical trainer, the weight bench, the rack of weights, the recumbent bike, rowing machine.
    Serious stuff, she mused.
    An enormous flat-panel TV covered one wall. She noted the components tucked into a built-in, and the glass-front bar fridge holding bottles of water. And in the corner where the wood merged with slate rested a whirlpool tub in glossy black.
    “Matt’s work?”
    “Yeah. Mostly.”
    “I’m more and more pleased with my instinct to hire him. You never have to leave here.”
    “That was sort of the idea. I like to hole up for long stretches. It was designed as a family room, but since my family doesn’t live here, I figured why haul myself to a gym when I can bring the gym to me? And, hey, no membership fee. Of course, it cuts out being able to ogle toned and sweaty female bodies, but you’ve got to make some sacrifices.”
    “I have a basement,” Cilla mused. “An actual underground basement, but it’s big. I gave some thought to finishing it off eventually, but more for storage and utility. But with the right lighting . . .”
    “Until then, you’re welcome to use this.”
    Frowning, she turned to look at him. “Why?”
    “Why not?”
    “Don’t evade. Why?”
    “That wasn’t an evasion.” And wasn’t she an odd combination of caution and openness, he thought. “But if you need more specifics, I only use it a few hours a week. So you’re welcome to use it a few hours a week, too. Call it Southern hospitality.”
    “When do you generally work out?”
    “No set time, really. More when the mood strikes. I try to make sure the mood strikes five or six days a week anyway, otherwise I can start to resemble Skeletor.”
    “Who?”
    “You know, Skeletor. Masters of the Universe? Archenemy of He-Man. And, no, you don’t know. I’ll get you a book. It doesn’t fit anyway, because despite the name, Skeletor’s ripped. Anyway, you can use those doors there, when your mood strikes. I won’t even know you’re here. And I might get lucky, have my mood match yours—then I’d be able to ogle a toned, sweaty female after all.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “Pull up your shirt.”
    “I thought you’d never ask.”
    “Keep your pants on. Just the shirt, Ford. I want to check out the abs.”
    “You’re a strange woman, Cilla.” But he pulled up his shirt.
    She poked a finger into his stomach. “Okay. I just wanted to be sure you actually use this equipment, and the mood striking is a side benefit rather than a purpose.”
    “I’ve got a purpose when it comes to you.”
    “Which I get, and which is fine. But I’d really like to take you up on your offer and do that without strings or expectations. I appreciate the hospitality, Ford. I really do. Plus you have Matt’s seal of approval, and I like him.”
    “It’s a good thing because I pay him five hundred a year for that seal.”
    “He loves you. It came across when I subtly and cleverly pumped him about you.”
    He felt a quick and happy twinge. “You pumped him about me?”
    “Subtly,” she repeated. “And cleverly. And he’s a nice guy, so . . .” She scanned the room, the equipment again, and he could almost feel her longing. “How about we barter? I’ll happily take advantage of your equipment, and if you have something around the house that needs fixing or dealing with, I’ll take care of it.”
    “You’re going to be my handyman?”
    “I’m pretty damn handy.”
    “Will you wear your tool belt, and a really short skirt?”
    “Tool belt, yes. Skirt, no.”
    “Damn it.”
    “If I can’t fix it, I’ll send one of the guys over. Maybe one of them will wear a really short skirt.”
    “I can always hope.”
    “Deal?”
    “Deal.”
    “Great.” Smiling, she studied the room again.