She made sure to roll her hips ever so slightly as she led him to the broad deck on which her gorgeous infinity pool was situated. It really didn't take much effort—God had seen to that. Five days a week at the gym kept her tall body lean and healthy, but despite that little effort, and one tiny skosh of help by medical science, her figure was all hers, as originally designed. She knew her effect on men, both young and old, and part of her liked it.

Seducing Eli was not part of the plan, though. In fact, the idea he might make a pass at her terrified her. But she wanted him to look at her, to see her. The lout had not even so much as checked her out once at the coffee shop. So, the tan capri-pants and light cotton blouse she'd spent more than an hour hemming and hawing over that morning were simple, but they highlighted her perfect figure perfectly. None of it was planned, of course, not really. She'd even chided herself for caring so much.

After twenty minutes chatting in the deck chairs by the pool about this, that, and the other, she excused herself to check on the bird again and returned to find Eli had jettisoned his work boots, rolled his pant legs, and dangled his legs in the pool.

"I washed up at the hose," he explained as she moved to join him.

She'd swam in the pool many times, but, slipping off her sandals and taking a light grip on his right shoulder to steady herself, she realized she'd never done this before. Dipping in toe, ankle, and calf, one foot after the next, she settled in beside him, her legs dangling in the warm water to the knee. Kate gave the city below only a glance before turning to him.

"So, where's home for you these days?" The thought hadn't occurred to her until that moment, but she knew from his words it wasn't LA.

Without a word, he pivoted to his left and lifted first his right thigh and then his right buttock. Pointing to the ground where his rear had been, he returned to his previous position.

"You are not moving in with me."

Eli laughed and rolled his eyes. "My home is wherever I happen to be sitting ... I think you got that."

"How can you not have a home?"

"Uncle Sam moved me around a lot, and after I got out ... a bit of time goofing around, travelling, back to school in Virginia, and then, despite some more nonsense abroad, I thought to settle in the Seattle area and ply my trade."

"So, what happened?"

"I like Seattle, but there wasn't much work there ... at least not enough to keep me busy. I ended up taking so many jobs in other states that I finally just gave up having a home-base entirely. Now I write it into all my contracts that the client picks up my living expenses. It's worked out pretty well."

"Wait ...," she said, "... what exactly do you do?"

"I'm a landscaped architect." He must have seen her look of surprise. "Did you think I was the gardener?"

"Well ... you ... you mentioned potted plants."

"I was being metaphorical."

"Well, then ... that's ...." She again found herself groping for words.

"Respectable? You seem disappointed."

"No."

"Were you looking forward to having a fling with the gardener?"

It had been ages since she'd actually gasped, and when she did, she felt herself blushing. With her blond hair and fair complexion, such an event was impossible to hide ... any more than his obnoxious laugh was. She began pummeling his heavy shoulder and arm with the heel of her left fist. "Will you stop that," she practically shrieked. Oh, God, am I broadcasting desperation? she thought deep inside.

The man continued to chuckle, even after her blows stopped, and she couldn't help but join him. She hated feeling needy, but she liked having him there ... even with the teasing.

"When was the last time you were back home?" It was another question she hadn't previously thought to ask, but it suddenly seemed important.

"Oh, Jeez," he said, still smiling but now sober. "I dunno ... maybe twenty years? ... no, no ... fifteen."

"That long? Your dad's still alive, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is ... um, but he left Peoria right after he left me and mom."

"Where is he now?"

"I couldn't say," he murmured. "The last I heard, Brazil."

"Brazil?"

"Old Sam ... my dad, was always a strange guy." For a moment, he seemed lost in thought. "You should ask your dad." He reached over and touched her affectionately on the shoulder. "I'm pretty certain they worked at the same firm ... at least that's what I remember."

"Ahh!" she said. "That's right. How did I not remember that?"

"It was a lifetime ago. I don't think about it anymore ... or about him."

"Eli ... he's your dad." Again, she winced inside. She hadn't meant to say that, especially not in such a ... tone.

It appeared he hadn't heard, but, instead, moved on to another topic. "So, your dad is a lawyer ...."

"As is yours ...."

"But you hate lawyers?"

"No," she protested, "just the ones I'm dealing with now."

"The ones who are not defending you on that bank-robbery beef?"

"Exactly."

"You really should seek representation for that."

"Ba-dum tsh," she said with a drummer's flourish. Another uncontrollable fit of laughter hit her. As she bent forward, wondering whether she should splash him with water, she felt another kind hand on her shoulder.

"My old man bolted when I was seventeen," said Eli. "Since then, he's written, I dunno, four or five times. The last one caught up with me ... I think ... five years ago," he said, his brow wrinkled in thought. "Every letter was ... I can't put it into words. He always started out by trying to explain things, as if I was still seventeen. But the explanations always shifted the blame to someone else, first to people at work, then mom, and then ... somehow ... me. Never him. He had this thing he did. He wrote a lot about things that happened before the accident, about things he figured I wouldn't remember, using those to build his explanation, his excuse, really, as to why he'd abandoned me and mom pretty much penniless."

When he leaned back on his hands, Kate lifted her left leg from the water and turned to face him. It was remarkable how calm he was. She wanted to ask him to stop, to apologize yet again for prying, but she didn't know how. So, she sat patiently as he told his tale.

"It worked at first ... at least a little. I can only remember bits and pieces from before the accident, all of it disjointed. But over the years, I stitched some it together ... you know, letters, pictures, friends and family helped. So many things Sam wrote didn't tally that I finally had to call bullshit on all of it. Especially since every word he wrote cast him in the best possible light and demeaned everything and everyone else ... especially mom."

"Who knows," he said with a sigh and a smile. "Memory's a funny thing. Maybe his way of telling things is simply how he remembers it ... and maybe it's true. But I don't think so, and I'm not going to open myself up to that again. I mean, if the guy wants to come back to the states and talk it out over a beer, I'm game. But if all he has is the same self-serving bile, then he can tell it to the Devil. I'm not interested."

His shoulder felt large and strong when she reached out to lay her hand on it. The sensation sent a chill through her, but she had a hard time looking at him for a moment.

"I'm so sorry I brought up something that painful," she said with the slightest catch in her throat. She felt his hand on hers, and when she did, her hand took on a life of its own. Their fingers intertwined for a few seconds before releasing.

"Kate, I don't mind at all," was his warm and even reply. "I shouldn't have rambled on like that. People ... people like that rely on the good nature of the rest of us. I saw that in my old man, and I saw it a lot in my ex-wife. They give their own shitty, twisted, self-serving interpretation of events, often in public, knowing that the rest of us will be too embarrassed or scandalized to contradict them. That's how manipulators manipulate. I'm not going to be pushed around like that, not by anyone. So, I share the truth as I know it." He gave her another affectionate touch on the shoulder. "Is the chicken ready?"

She gave another gasp, hopped up, and ran inside. It was just in the nick of time, and lunch was better than she could have dreamed. Their chatting and joking afterward went so well that she felt a little giddy. It was only toward the end that she began to worry over how much she was enjoying herself. To say she was conflicted was ... well, she loved having him there. But she was wary, even frightened. She hadn't felt that tug, that sweet tug, since she was a kid, and it was overwhelming. It wasn't even sexual. It was just ... powerful.

The clock passed 2:00, and as he prepared to leave, Eli made an invitation.

"If you want to see some of my work, I'm running up to San Luis Obispo next Friday. I designed a private garden up there, and the owner wants me back to take some measurements. I think he's afraid it's sinking into the ground," her guest whispered. "I have a few other errands there, but those shouldn't take an hour. We would be back by evening."

Alice hesitated. It sounded so ....

"How about you come help me do one or two things at my beach house, day after tomorrow?" she asked sweetly. "We'll worry about next week, next week."

After they exchanged their LA pecks on the cheek and Eli departed, she went to the kitchen and did the last bits of the cleaning up. He'd already cleared the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, to her perpetual amazement. But wiping the table and kitchen counters gave her more time to think.

She shouldn't see him again. It was just too soon. After sixteen years of marriage, her feelings around him were just too much and ... just too soon. She made her way into the bedroom and caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror. She looked away. Her ego had never been her enemy. Both Alice and Kate were surprisingly modest women, and neither took comments about their beauty the least bit seriously. But even at forty-two, Alice's flawless figure drew the admiring gazes of men and women, alike, often two and three times in rapid succession. She was what Otto proudly had referred to as a 'head-turner.' It wouldn't always be that way.

Still, she wasn't one to preen and primp or stare at herself in the mirror, and strangely, given her profession, she'd always been somewhat uncomfortable with her own nudity. As she thought that last, she'd already begun to peel off her clothes, disrobing without even a thought. When she finished, she regarded her bare flesh for long minutes more.

She liked Eli. Why couldn't he just check out her ass like the other men? Twisting and turning her limber figure, she caught sight of the item in question. She liked her body, but knew this was her single best asset.

"Asset," she giggled.

Without thinking, she slipped onto the bed and stretched out. As if of its own volition, her right hand slid between her legs, and a long sigh escaped her. Other than a few youthful experiments, she'd never masturbated in her life. She was just one of those people. But today, a few gentle rubs brought on an unimaginable climax, one that twisted and coiled her body and produced her third and loudest gasp of the day. For the briefest of moments, her vision went white, and afterward she lay there panting and trembling.

"Oh ...."

That was a surprise, volunteered her inner voice in a tone that was in no way reproachful. That she later might feel guilty occurred to her, but she couldn't think why. She'd had not a single sexual thought since Eli had arrived.

But the smell of him and memory of him were still fresh with her, and it might just be possible she needed to reexamine her notions of what constituted 'sexual.'

"Oookay ...," she drawled aloud. "You can see him again, but just be careful."