Maisie slept in the nude, winter or summer, at ease in her body, and justifiably proud . . . but she also slept with her mouth wide open, due to an uncorrected deviated septum that Andy suspected, but had not confirmed, was the result of two separate nose jobs. Also, she snored. But she’d told him that he kicked in his sleep, that his legs churned like he was running at least once a night, which he figured made them even. He and Maisie had met in a New York Sports Club a little over a year ago. He’d been in New York for the annual USATF Indoor Track & Field Championships, and the hotel’s treadmills were broken, so they’d sent him across the street. There, he’d seen Maisie pacing around an elliptical machine, frowning at the blank display board. “Hey,” she’d said, sauntering over in skintight black leggings and a white cotton top that was alluringly sheer where she’d sweated through it. Her smile and her gaze, attentive and intimate, made him feel like they were in a bar at closing time instead of at a gym at nine in the morning.
