“We are perfect mates.” Marissa sighed into the comfort of Linda’s arms.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I do. Mind reading is one of the signs of our perfect matedness.”

Linda tickled her gently. “Ready to go?”

“Sure.” Marissa picked up her sunglasses and headed for the door. They were at the reception desk when she smacked herself on the forehead. “I’d forget my head if it weren’t velcroed on. My purse . . . be right back.”

She hurried through the office, threw herself down into her desk chair, flipped on her monitor and quickly keyed in her administrative override. About thirty seconds later she typed a query. In another thirty seconds the printer whirred into action, spitting out a single sheet.

For a moment her hand hovered over the paper, then she shoved it deep into the recycle pile. She made it as far as her office door before she hurried back to snatch the paper from the bin and quickly glance at the final score.

She smiled.

Epilogue

Still rubbing a small towel over her face and neck, Marissa slipped out of her workout shoes and stripped off her sweat-soaked tank top. The gym wasn’t busy and only one other woman was in the process of changing.

She eased down onto the bench to work off her socks and noticed the shorter woman, who probably had a weight loss goal of thirty to fifty pounds, adding dots to the progress graphs she herself knew so well. Even from here she could see that the time spent on exercise had gone up over the last eight weeks, while the weight line had no variance at all. That was the pits.

Planning to shower when she got home—a long, luxurious shower with lots of emollients and conditioners—she pulled on a dry T-shirt and gathered up her things, careful to collect every last sock and sport bra. With a two-week Rocky Mountain hike starting tomorrow, she did not want to return to find something in her locker had spawned a new species. Maybe she could get Linda to join her for their last shower in some time. She paused, for a moment, to savor that idea.

Her gym bag laden, she winked at her reflection, then shut the locker door. She was about to leave when she impulsively turned to the other woman. She waited until she received an inquiring look to speak. “I couldn’t help but notice your charts. Plateaus suck. The worst I ever had I ended up changing the order of my—”

“Look, I know you mean well, but I don’t need any advice.” The other woman frowned as she set her shoes into the locker.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I know what you—”

“What is it with women like you? You don’t have a clue.”

“Women like me?” Marissa echoed. She was sorry she had opened her mouth but she’d only wanted to help and encourage.

The other woman had obviously reached her frustration limit. “Skinny bitches like you haven’t the first clue—”