Free Prodigal Son by Susan Mallery Page B

could be influenced so easily.”
    “Don’t tell anyone. He moved in a couple of weeks later and I quickly found out that puppies are a ton of work. For a year he chewed everything he could get his teeth on. Then I took him to obedience training and now we understand each other better.”
    They stopped at the red light on the corner. Charlie waited patiently until the light changed, then led them along the crosswalk.
    “Have you been reading the papers?” Jack asked.
    She had a feeling he didn’t mean the fashion reports. “I’ve noticed there was some local coverage on Hanson Media Group, but I could only find a couple of stories in the national media. You’re right—there wasn’t all that much press.”
    “Sometimes it’s good to be small, relatively speaking. Now if we were one of the networks, it would be a different story.”
    “I’m surprised no one ever made any offer to buy the company out,” she said. “So much of entertainment is now controlled by conglomerates.”
    “For all I know my father’s been fighting off offers for years. He wouldn’t sell and risk losing his name on the letterhead.”
    He sounded bitter as he spoke. “You don’t agree?” she asked.
    “It’s not my thing. I don’t need to be the center of the universe, at least as my father defined it.”
    They’d reached the park.
    “The dog zone is on the other side,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind the hike.”
    “Exercise is my friend,” she said with a grin. “At least that’s what I tell myself.”
    “There’s a gym in the building.”
    “They showed it to me on my tour. Very impressive.” There had been several treadmills and ellipticals, along with weight machines and three sets of free weights.
    “I work out every morning,” Jack said. “It’s pretty quiet at five.”
    “In the morning?” She shuddered. “That’s because more normal people are sleeping. I can’t believe you get up that early.”
    “I’m lucky. I don’t need a lot of sleep.”
    “Apparently not. Most of the year, it’s dark at that time.”
    “They have lights in the gym.”
    They’d need more than that to get her there. Coffee, for starters. And bagels.
    “I’m not really into the whole sweat thing,” Samantha told him. “I’ve been lucky. I don’t seem to gain weight.”
    It sort of went with what was kindly referred to as a boyish figure. She decided it was a trade-off. Sure she didn’t have anything to fill out her bras and padding was required to hint at anything resembling cleavage, but she’d never counted calories or given up carbs. She could eat what she wanted and still have the world’s boniest butt.
    “Exercise isn’t just about weight loss. It keeps you healthy.”
    “So does getting enough sleep. Besides, I’m a big walker. I can go for miles.” As long as there was plenty of food along the way. One of the things she missed about New York. All the street vendors and little delis where a pretzel or ice-cream craving could be instantly satisfied.
    They walked through a grove of trees and came out in a huge open area. There were already a half-dozen dog owners and their pets running around. Jack found a spot in the sun and set down his backpack.
    “Equipment,” she said. “So what exactly is involved in your Saturday-morning ritual?”
    He pulled out a blanket. “For me,” he said. Then a ball. “For Charlie. We start with this and work up to the Frisbee.”
    He unclipped Charlie from the leash, then threw the red rubber ball what seemed like at least a quarter mile.
    Charlie took off after it, grabbed it and raced toward him.
    “Impressive,” she said. “The dogs don’t get crabby with each other?”
    “Not usually. Most people know if their dogs are social or not. There have been the occasional fights, but it’s rare.”
    Charlie bounded toward them and dropped the ball at her feet. She winced.
    “I throw like a girl,” she told the dog. “You won’t be impressed.”
    Jack laughed.