seeing her friend. “Be right with you.” She quickly hid the bouquet with a covering of colorful foil paper and walked into the front part of the flower shop.
“I thought I’d see if you had time for coffee,” Ellen Adamson said, admiring a wreath made of Christmas bows with cinnamon sticks and sachets of cloves to add a holiday scent. Monday was the day the doctor did routine surgery. The office was closed, and so Ellen had the day pretty much to herself.
“Give me a second to freshen up.” Anne renewed her lipstick and checked her hair. She wore it clipped out of the way with a big bow at the back of her neck while she worked. “Okay, let’s go.” She stuck a Be Back Soon sign in the window.
The two friends walked two doors down the block to a restaurant and took a free table amid a myriad of hanging plants. Anne picked a couple of dead leaves off a spider plant and checked its moisture level before taking her seat.
“That was some kiss Saturday,” Ellen commented after the waitress had departed with their order.
“Yes.” Anne tried for a nonchalant manner and failed.
“I was coming to rescue you, but you fainted before I got there. Quick thinking, that.”
Anne cleared her throat. “Thanks, but it wasn’t all an act. I sort of panicked, then things went dark. When I realized what had happened, I decided to go along with it. I was afraid my aunt would club him if she saw him kissing me like that.”
“A couple of guys were ready to step in when you made your dramatic move. I was worried about you for a minute.”
“You were?”
“Mmm-hmm. Until I saw your face.” Ellen laughed softly. “You looked totally blissed-out. Was the kiss that wonderful?”
Anne hesitated. “Yes.”
“Oh.” Ellen studied her a second. “That sounded like a very serious yes.”
Anne lifted the bangs off her forehead. “Is it suddenly hot in here or am I blushing?”
“Blushing. This gets more interesting by the minute. What are you going to do about Jon Sinclair?”
“I don’t know,” she hedged. “Got any advice?” She wasn’t sure if she should confess, even to her best friend, the insane idea that kept occurring to her.
“Go for it,” Ellen announced.
“Go for it?”
“Right.”
Anne frowned at her friend. “Are we talking about the same thing?”
“I hope so. I think you should have a torrid, tempestuous affair, one that will singe your eyebrows.”
Anne had to laugh. “That kiss nearly did.”
Ellen became serious. “I don’t want to see you settle for…oh, I don’t know, less than you deserve. Randall is almost twenty years older than you.”
“Does that matter?”
“Maybe. Everyone deserves that wild, impossibly insane first love. I’d hate to see you miss out on it.”
Anne watched Ellen become pensive, her smile bittersweet. Her friend had once been married, but it hadn’t worked out.
“Everyone should have that first sweet taste of passion,” Ellen continued. “For men, it’s called sowing their wild oats. For women, it’s gather ye rosebuds while ye may.”
“This advice from a doctor’s right-hand person? What about safe sex and all that?”
“I didn’t say not to be careful. Just have fun while you’re doing it.”
“Jon Sinclair told me he wasn’t a marrying man.”
Shock momentarily stopped Ellen, then she grinned in pure glee. “Arrogant beast,” she murmured. “So it has already gotten that far.” She gave Anne a purely speculative perusal. “From a kiss to talk of marriage in one breath. Impressive. You must have singed more than his eyebrows.”
Anne lowered her lashes demurely and murmured wickedly, “I hope so. I like to give as well as I get.”
Ellen looked momentarily disconcerted at this statement. “Can this be the Anne Hyden we’ve come to know and love?” she questioned, then she chortled. “Oh, this is going to be good,” she declared, clearly seeing the affair as the coming event.
Anne was tempted. “One passionate affair before settling into domestic bliss?” she mused, unable to keep from thinking about that wild, erotic caress.
“Bliss? Or boredom?”
“I’m very fond of Randall,” she said firmly.
“I’m fond of my dog, but I wouldn’t care to depend on him for witty conversation. Have you ever thought of being alone with Randall for days on end if, for instance, you were stranded on a desert island for a month?”
“Well, no.”
A picture came to Anne. Jon Sinclair, dressed in ragged cutoffs, his body lean and bronzed by the sun, standing ankle-deep in the ocean, homemade spear lifted to catch their dinner.
“So how does Jon Sinclair look standing on a deserted beach?” Ellen’s snicker broke into Anne’s musing.
“You’re putting ideas in my head,” Anne told her.
“It’s time someone did. I think Marge tried to make an old maid out of you from the day you were born.”
It was no secret the two women didn’t get along. Ellen thought Marge was too possessive and overprotective of Anne. Marge thought Ellen was a bad influence.
Anne thought her aunt’s attitude was because Marge had been there when Anne’s mother had died in childbirth. Uncle Joe and Aunt Marge had raised her from the time she was a toddler because her father traveled extensively in his job with an international corporation. He hadn’t been home in almost two years.
Aunt Marge meant well. She, too, had been affected by the family curse—two children had died in infancy from heart defects. Anne loved her aunt and tried not to resent the older woman’s interference in her life. Aunt Marge reminded her to be careful because she was concerned about Anne’s health.
Thinking of her reaction to the kiss, Anne shook her head ruefully. “I’m not sure my heart is up to an affair with Jon Sinclair.”
“But you won’t know until you try.”
“Have you ever had an affair?”
Ellen was silent so long, Anne thought she wasn’t going to answer. “Once. A long time ago.”
“Did it make your heart pound like it would fly right out of your chest?”
“Of course. That’s the point of the whole thing.”
Their
