Thief of Words Read Online Free PDF Page B

shirt on a tall brunette would keep fluttering through his imagination like a nightmare bird. That he would live half a century and come up dry, the years behind looking more and more passionless in the rearview mirror. Nothing to paint a picture about.
    With a shake of his head, Jack banished the memories. He slung his jacket over his shoulder, rolled up his sleeves a couple of turns, and loosened his tie. He thought of the once-and-future Lizzie Siddal. The wave of self-pity ebbed away; in its place, he was surprised to discover, came a fluttery feeling in his chest. He briefly flashed to junior high and Carol Davidson’s gap-toothed smile. To hell with age, he said to himself. Then he walked toward the woman who, from the back, looked as if she’d just stepped out of a Rossetti painting.
    “If you’re not Annie Hollerman, this will be very embarrassing,” said Jack.
    The woman turned. She wasn’t Pre-Raphaelite. She didn’t have the bee-stung lips, the dreamy British curves. This woman had bones. Good, strong bones from the old country. Her cheeks slanted slightly up and out; there was peasant stock in her, and exotic fragments of the far steppes. The wild red hair framed the lightest of olive complexions. Pre-Raphaelite by way of Minsk.
    “So. You must be Mr. Dreyfuss,” said Annie. “Are there storm clouds over Lisbon?”
    Jack grinned. “Not anymore.”

C HAPTER 8
    B y the time the coffee came, Jack had scored at least 100 points. He’d lost one when he was abrupt with the host, who didn’t have the outside patio table he’d reserved, and another when he dropped some
farfalloni con fungi
on his tie. Actually, the fungi bumble was funny. And Annie would’ve been the last person to fault someone for messiness. Besides, he’d spilled it because of her. Call it 100–1.
    Laura deserved some points, too. She’d been right about the funny, smart, and brash part. But she forgot to mention how Jack DePaul’s bottom teeth were in a cute jumble with the middle one tucked slightly behind.
    When Laura had told Annie she thought Jack was around fifty, that had sounded old. She’d never dated anyone out of his forties before, and she’d worried that Jack DePaul would look like someone’s grandfather.
    Jack DePaul looked like no one’s grandfather. Yes, his hair was gray and he had well-worn eyes, but he also carried himself with a tight, coiled energy. And even though he wore baggy pleated pants, she could see the outlines of what she knew must be a great rear, just as Laura had said.
    As the waiter poured their coffee, the words “What you need, Annie Hollerman, is a man with a good ass” rang through her mind.
    “Something funny?” Jack said.
    Annie hesitated, then she pictured Trip’s scrunched face and heard his familiar critical words: “You’re just like a ten-year-old, always blurting out whatever’s on your mind.”
    So she said, “Yes.”
    “Okay,” Jack said, “I give, what’s so funny?”
    Annie remembered how Trip carefully measured every syllable he spoke. Then she gave Jack a sweet smile and said, “Laura’s first words to me about you were, ‘What you need, Annie Hollerman, is a man with a good ass.’ ”
    That’s when Jack had fumbled the
farfalloni con fungi.

C HAPTER 9
    B y the time the coffee came, Annie had put up so many points that the scoreboard was broken. It wasn’t just the cool hair or the way her slim body skimmed against her loose clothes that attracted Jack. Annie turned out to be as smart and bold as Laura had told him.
    Lunch had been easy and fun from the start. Jack felt as if they’d jumped onto an inner tube and were shooting merrily down a snowy slope together.
    Just after being seated, Jack opened the menu, peered at Annie over the top of it, and said, “So, who’s Annie Hollerman, and why does Laura Goodbread think she’s so great?”
    Annie didn’t miss a beat. Without even looking up from the menu she replied, “Because Laura refuses to pee