Harvest Moon by Sharon Struth Page B

details about her turned slowly in his mind as he drove. Just as he passed the public beach, a sudden realization hit; conversations with Etta carried a natural comfort, as if they’d been friends for a lifetime. Angie and he didn’t share many interests—at least out of the bedroom. Sure, they conversed, but sparks never flared.
    Some days he wondered if he should ask Etta where she lived, or if they might meet. Before the idea could take hold, he pushed it from his mind. The risk of losing their friendship by pushing those boundaries was far too great.
    * * * *
    Veronica slipped the cobalt blue, sleeveless dress over her head, pulled up the side zipper, and stepped into stiletto sandals. She turned a complete circle in front of her full-length mirror while Boomer watched her from his seat on the area rug near her bed.
    “What do you think, Boom-boom?”
    His ears lifted at the same time his tail swished back and forth on the floor.
    “I’ll take that as a thumbs-up.”
    She smoothed out the silky fabric of her dress with a brush of her palm. Meg would agree; this outfit amped-up the sex appeal. It hugged the curve of her hips, dipped in the space between her shoulder blades, and showcased her tanned shoulders. Tonight, she’d stir the pot and see how Jim reacted.
    A nervous sensation roiled inside her, twisting and turning, reviving old worries. She’d downplayed sexy in her appearance for some time, always looking nice but never what she’d call provocative. Fear of attracting the wrong kind of man had driven her wardrobe, which in hindsight was a little silly. The violent act wasn’t about a woman’s clothing. And yet…
    She dabbed her favorite amber scent behind each ear and lifted the strand of dainty pearls Marc had given her for her twenty-fourth birthday. After their break-up, she’d stored them away, like everything else that happened during her life with him, and immediately afterward.
    Afterward. The PartyTime invitation. Gary’s face. The possibility she’d see him again. All threatened to take her down, ruin her perfectly good mood about tonight.
    She closed her eyes, thought about the e-mail she’d sent to Ry and her admission about how she wanted her life to be different. The self-help book made her conscious of the dust settling on the years of doubt and mistrust. Time she took out the feather duster! Her eyes popped open. A slightly more confident woman stared back from the mirror. She looked away before her usual wary self could resurface.
    The clock on her nightstand showed if she left now, she’d have time for a glass of wine at the country club bar. Although she rarely did this, tonight a liquid confidence booster couldn’t hurt. Jim needed to close the pharmacy, but said he’d meet her there at half past seven. She’d welcome him with open arms to make up for her aloof behavior at Bernadette’s party.
    She locked the house, got into her car, and followed the lake road. Fifteen minutes later, she reached the long driveway leading to the Southbridge Country Club. After parking in the near empty lot, she entered the large, old home now owned by the private club and went to the bar. The only patrons sat on the patio, watching the setting sun, while a golf match played on a small television positioned in one corner. She shimmied onto a tall stool and smiled at the bartender.
    The young man stopped talking to a waitress and came over. “What can I get you?”
    “A glass of merlot, please.”
    An unusual sensation surrounded her, a sensual glow she didn’t normally possess. Was it from her dress, the sexier than usual shoes, or maybe the dim golden lights of this room? An urgency to see Jim made her shift in the seat. Oh yes, she planned to kiss him with a passion she’d been afraid to use for so long. She’d toss the reins of control and forget about the predictable, safe way they usually touched each other.
    The bartender left her drink. She took a long sip to kick-start her courage.