Old Growth & Ivy (The Spook Hills Trilogy Book 1) by Jayne Menard Page A

wise
choice?  The answer to each of those questions was ‘no’.  Should he
call her back and cancel?  He sat back, trying to think rationally. 
It was only dinner.  Nothing more.  Was he so fearful emotionally
that he could not risk having dinner with an intelligent, feisty woman with
delicious curves, expressive eyes, and a mouth that . . .?  Just dinner –
who was he kidding?  This was about a whole lot more than dinner. 
Com’on Nielsen.  If you won’t take a risk now that you are 60, when the
heck will you?  He found the website for the restaurant, checked out its
menu and then clicked the booking option. 
    ***
    On Saturday afternoon, Ivy was out in
her yard, cutting back spent perennials, deadheading the fall bloomers, and
doing some pruning.  She always found it a bit sad when the gardening
season was over.  The asters were still bravely showing off sapphire-blue
flowers in a brilliant shade that only nature could have produced.  Around
their base, a deep pink hardy geranium bloomed playfully.  They looked so
happy and cheerful that she decided to leave them to enjoy any remaining sunny
fall days. 
    The garden needed to be tidied up
before winter and a life-long Portlander like Ivy knew that the rains would
soon hamper working outside.  Around the neighborhood, other folks were
mowing grass, working in the garden, caulking, doing repairs – all taking
advantage of the still pleasant weather.  The corgis were on the other
side of the yard raising a ruckus at any passing dog, person, or
squirrel.  They were protective and territorial, making them the
neighborhood busy-bodies.  Soon Ivy would have to bring them to sit near
her before they became too much of an irritant.
    While she worked, gradually filling up
the gardening recycle bin, she was thinking over her time with Steve. 
Dinner the night before had gone better than she expected.  After a little
stumbling conversation at the beginning, they were soon chatting over
appetizers, laughing when their entrees arrived and feeding each other tastes
of dessert.  Actually Steve fed her tastes of his dessert.  He would
take a taste of each course she was served, eat his food and then bide his time
until he could finish off whatever she had ordered.  He ordered extra side
dishes of potatoes, asparagus and creamed spinach and ate those as well. 
The man’s appetite was so prodigious that she had to smile at the memory. 
Once they were finished, he asked if she would like to take a walk around the
city.  After looking ruefully down at her heels, they walked first to her
office where she put on a sensible pair of flats and out they went, walking
over to Burnside, turning left and then going up to Broadway, where they turned
and walked up to the Park blocks.  The air was crisp and fresh with the
chill of fall.  Sometimes she leaned on Steve’s arm; sometimes he held her
hand.   Once in the park, shaded from the streetlight by one of the
big-leafed trees, Steve asked if he could kiss her.  That evening he had
the manners of a gentleman.  She had seen the more aggressive side of him
and she was having trouble reconciling the two.
    Ivy stopped trimming the rudbeckia,
still with a few of their cheerful black-eyed susan flowers that she put aside
for an arrangement in the house.  She thought about the way Steve had
kissed her -- long, slow and increasingly sensual.  For once in her life,
she felt scaled to size when he put his arms around her.  He gently drew
her close, nestling her against him.  Afterward he stared at her without
smiling and said.  “Oh yes, this is about much more than just
dinner.”  They meandered their way back to the parking lot where Ivy had
left her car.  Finding out that he would not leave until ten the next
morning, she offered to pick him up at his hotel, buy him breakfast and drive
him to the airport.   
    Seeing him again that morning let her
know that more than the wine the night before drew them