Body Language

Desperate

Primrose

Sweet Laurel

Wild Heather

To Alexandra Marie Criswell, the new love of my life!

This one’s for you, sweetie! Love, Grandma

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE (#u1026ad3c-0021-558e-ae80-8e47a1eac914)

CHAPTER TWO (#u375593b6-c544-5d2c-aece-6f2fab7c9cd6)

CHAPTER THREE (#ufdc77ddc-a08a-59a6-9da7-1bd525dfd651)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u5b9eee6f-cdb2-582f-9fe8-292f79f274c9)

CHAPTER FIVE (#ud4941c3e-1305-51a6-a155-286967d34f96)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

“Never relinquish your own apartment unless you have an engagement ring firmly on your finger, or you’re broke.”

CHAPTER ONE

ELLIE PETERS WAS HAVING a midlife crisis.

Well, not exactly midlife, since she was only thirty-two years, three months, and seventeen days old. But she lived in midtown Manhattan, so the “mid” part was definitely valid.

And as crises went, hers was major!

“We need to find a place to live, Barn, and we need to find it fast. Brian will be back from L.A. next week, and we’ve got to be moved out of here by then.”

Her idea, not his.

Brian foolishly thought they could still work things out, even after he’d called Barnaby “God’s stupid mistake” and suggested to Ellie that she take the dog to the pound, and all because he’d peed in his Bruno Magli loafers.

It had been an accident, for crying out loud!

Ellie’s bulldog, who had a face only a mother could love (if said mother was blind), digested this news by letting loose with a very ungentlemanly fart, and then whimpered, obviously knowing that it was her ex-boyfriend’s hatred of him that had sent Ellie and Brian’s relationship into the toilet, forcing her to look for a new place to live.

She may have dumped Brian, but it was his apartment she’d been living in these past six months, and that had been really poor planning on her part.

“Don’t worry, Barnaby,” she said, patting the dog’s head affectionately. “Good dogs are much harder to find than good men. And Brian was too anal for his own good, anyway.

“I mean, what person in their right mind flosses after every meal?” As the image of yards and yards of dental floss hanging over the edge of the waste-basket emerged—floss she’d been forced to pick up and dispose of properly—YUCK!—Ellie shuddered in distaste, knowing she’d made the right choice.

It was so much better to be the dumper rather than the dumpee, for a change, she decided.

“At any rate, we are going to be much better off without Brian, Barn.”

Seeming to agree with her assessment, Barnaby licked her face, producing an inordinately large amount of drool, which Ellie wiped off with the sleeve of her Georgetown University sweatshirt—her alma mater—before going back to peruse the classifieds.

Apartments in New York City were ridiculously expensive. She was no Donald Trump, and Ellie’s job as a translator at the United Nations didn’t pay her enough to find something as elegant as where she was living now, within a stone’s throw of Central Park.

She sighed at the thought of moving. Barn loved walking in the park, rolling in the grass and romping with his canine buddies. Ellie loved strolling down Fifth Avenue and looking in the store windows at merchandise she couldn’t afford to buy.

It was important to dream, even if those dreams were occasionally dumped on.

“Thank you, Brian!”

NOT!