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

together.  They
talked easily as they sipped lattes and dug into large plates of food at a
place called Mothers downtown.  All too soon, they were in the car and on
their way to the Hillsboro airport where Steve had an FBI jet coming to pick
him up.  Once there, he wanted her to meet Mathew who she had heard a
fair amount about. She watched from the small waiting room while Steve jogged
out to the jet and returned with yet another fine-looking agent in his late
thirties.  Like Brian Tovey, Mathew Heylen was about six feet but more
substantial.  He had sandy hair and moody sea-green eyes that almost seem
to laugh as they echo e d his warm smile.  Mathew was like a blue
spruce, tall and handsome, with many fine attributes that made it a perfect
specimen planting as the backbone of a garden. They talked for a few minutes
and then Mathew left to go back on the plane. 
    Steve kissed her again.  “I will
not say good-by, Ivy, because I am hoping this is only hello.”  He strode
towards the plane, then turned and hastened back, taking her in his arms,
swooping her in a waltz-like turn and then dipping her back for another
kiss.  Those blue eyes of his were intense with warmth.
    “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
he asked gently pulling her back upright. 
    Ivy let her face grow serious. 
“Making a big turkey dinner for a fellow I know who is going to be in
Portland.”
    It surprised her that he appeared
crestfallen.  “It’s kind of iffy,” she continued, “You see, he travels a
good deal and is very committed to his work.”
    Steve took in the teasing expression
in her eyes and realized she was talking about him.  “Darn it Ivy. 
You shouldn’t taunt a man like that.  If this case is wrapped up by then,
I will schedule to be in Portland for the Thanksgiving weekend.  If not,
let’s plan a long weekend together when the case is over.  I want to know
you better.  You are one special woman, Ivy Vine.”
    “And I am learning that perhaps you
are not always a fire-breathing dragon yourself, Agent Nielsen.”
    Smiling at the memory, Ivy went back
to cutting down the perennials.  Steve was different from any man she had
dated in the way he seemed made up of contradictory parts.  The brash,
demanding FBI agent juxtaposed with the easy manners of a gentleman; his
delight in technology seemed out of sync with an appreciation of fine wines; he
was oversized and yet always pressed and neat.  While he touched her gently,
she worried that he could turn aggressive in a relationship during a rough
spot.  The long, soft kiss and the tender way he held her were as
unexpected as the boyish grin that he rarely showed.  Even with her
concern, Ivy found she was eagerly anticipating hearing from him again.

Chapter
4
     
    Back east once more, Steve pushed away
from his desk at the FBI offices in the J. Edgar Hoover Building.  He
swiveled in his chair to stare out at Pennsylvania Avenue where the small trees
planted in the sidewalk were turning a delightful golden yellow.  When he
took the early 40 minute walk to work that morning, the chilly air in D.C. made
him think of Ivy and their walk in Portland on Friday night.  Being with
her tantalized his senses and opened him to the smaller wonders of the world
around him.
    He smiled to himself when he thought
about her.  She was brimming with intelligence; she was attractive. 
Heck, she was lovely.  Why was she single?   Single now for a
long time -- a dozen years, but then he had been single for twenty-five
years.  Ivy Vine.  Ivy Littleton.  Steve found both the nickname
Moll had given her and her real name pleasing.  The letters twined around
his tongue as he thought of her.  She was tall just as he was, but with
alluring curves.  Like him she had dedicated her life to her career, yet
unlike him she was ready to retire.  She was noticeably self-sufficient
and must have great inner strength.  Even so, now and then he could see
some conflict that she