Fabulous Creature Read Online Free Page B

just the place to do it.”
    It seemed that the year before, Max had worked for the summer recreation director at St. Mary’s, which was a private school for girls. Max had been in charge of keeping the swimming pool area clean and checking out towels and lounge chairs. This year he had moved up to the position of lifeguard and his old job would be open. It was an easy job, and there was plenty of time for socializing. And Max would be there in case James needed advice or moral support. It would be the perfect place for him to get the practice he needed to build his confidence. In fact, Max said he wouldn’t be surprised if, by the end of summer, James was into a whole new identification thing. Only this time it would be with a historically famous lady killer like—
    “Don Juan?” James had suggested.
    Max shook his head, grinning. “Sure,” he said. “Sure enough. Don Juan it is. This will be the summer of the Don Juan Project.”
    Only it had turned out to be the summer of the New Moon Lake instead; and until Diane Jarrett had shown up there’d been no reason to think that any part of the Don Juan Project was transferrable to the high Sierras.
    Inside the west gate a path led down through a grove of old trees and leveled out to merge with the jogging trail that bordered Anzio Avenue. After curving past two cabins, Anzio ran into Bunker Hill Road and directly down to the center of The Camp. On the jogging trail James shifted from the swift silent tread of the woodsman to a jog—when in Rome—and in a very few minutes was in sight of the complex of buildings grouped around a central quadrangle known as the “Parade Grounds.”
    There was no sign of Diane Jarrett in the Commissary, where James purchased bread, milk and half a dozen other items that Charlotte had added to the list at the last minute. There was no one of interest on the tennis courts either, or in the pavilion snack bar, or at the post office. In fact, at this hour of the day, nine thirty A.M., very few troopers of any description were in evidence anywhere. It would appear that in this particular military establishment reveille tended to be a bit late. But James persevered. Sometime earlier he had noticed a map on the post office wall—a map on which names had been inscribed at the location of each private cabin. Previously he’d had no particular interest in finding out who lived on which of T.J.’s favorite battlefields. But now, scanning the map eagerly, he located not one, but two cabins labeled with the surname, Jarrett. Above Cabin sixteen The Duncan Jarrett Family had been inked in, and on the neighboring premises, Hank and Jill Jarrett and Family. Both sixteen and seventeen were on Gettysburg Road, not far from the end of Anzio.
    Considering the possibility of a different route home—one that included a tour of Gettysburg—James was studying the map when the sound of running feet made him turn towards the window. A group of joggers was passing the post office; and judging by a split-second glimpse of a provocative profile, one of them might be the object of his quest. Collecting his sack of groceries, he shot out the door and into the Parade Grounds in time to see the joggers come to a stop at the sidewalk service window of the snack bar. Quite suddenly, it occurred to him that he was very thirsty.
    There were four of them—four blond, sturdily trim and damply glistening joggers. Thick, snowy white socks hugged their ankles and terrycloth sweat bands in colors that matched their jogging suits encircled their wrists and brows. And one of them was, indeed, Diane Jarrett. One was a tall, thick-chested man, another was a sturdy-looking middle-aged woman, and the fourth was a young man who was probably in his late teens. While the older man ordered at the service window, the others walked in circles, panting and gasping; but when the drinks arrived, they all subsided around one of the sidewalk tables. To James, now crouching behind a Dr.