One Good Turn by Judith Arnold

lines of his jaw, nose and brow, the understated strength in his forearms, his bony wrists and patrician fingers, his lean, athletic legs. The subtle scent of his aftershave. The gentle radiance of his eyes. Sybil might have been able to discern the make of Luke’s shirt from across a room, but Jenny was aware only of the human being inside the shirt.
    They didn’t touch. Just the slightest movement and her elbow would bump his, her hand would find his, yet she exercised restraint. She felt as if they’d exchanged a vow that evening, a promise that they wouldn’t let their budding friendship degenerate into a meaningless sexual escapade. It was a promise she’d needed to establish, because for the first time in her life she understood what lust was all about. Luke Benning was without a doubt the sexiest man she’d ever met, and when she was with him she experienced a hunger that no amount of shrimp and stuffed celery could subdue.
    She was rather old-fashioned about sex. She’d slept with only one guy in her life, someone she’d dated for five years, throughout high school and on into college—and it was only after knowing Peter for four years that she’d finally gone to bed with him. The fifteen hundred miles separating Smith College from the University of Texas, where he was a student, ultimately led to the end of their relationship, but there had never been any question in Jenny’s mind that she and Peter had loved each other before they’d become physically intimate—and afterward, as well.
    That was how she believed things should be. Perhaps in time she would love Luke, and if so she would be thrilled to satisfy her raging curiosity about what lurked beneath his Ralph Lauren shirt and his smartly tailored trousers. But for now she considered it wise to maintain a buffer between him and herself.
    The final piece the band performed was a rousing rendition of the Marine Corps anthem which brought the audience to its feet. Once the applause died down and the band members began to pack up, Luke lifted the table cloth, folded it and placed it inside the picnic basket, which contained plenty of leftovers from their feast. He touched Jenny’s shoulder with his free hand as they descended the stairs, but she understood he was only trying to keep from losing her in the swarming crowd.
    Once they’d crossed the street to the Reflecting Pool, they stopped beneath a street lamp. “Wasn’t that glorious?” Jenny exclaimed, invigorated by the bouncy final number the band had played.
    “Yes. It was really nice,” Luke said, sounding surprised.
    “And to think they give these concerts for free!”
    “They aren’t exactly free,” he pointed out. “Your tax dollars and mine are paying for them.”
    “Well...” She refused to let him undermine her enthusiasm. “It pleases me to think that my tax dollars are being used for this instead of something stupid and wasteful.”
    Gazing down at her, he smiled. “It’s only nine o’clock,” he said, “and we’ve still got half a bottle of Chardonnay. Would you like a glass of wine?”
    Jenny nodded. The sky still held traces of waning light, and she was far from ready to say good-bye to Luke. She accompanied him to the site of their picnic, held the basket for him while he spread out the tablecloth, and then sat beside him and gazed first westward to the Washington Monument, now illuminated by white spotlights, and then eastward to the Capitol, its ornate dome and American flag also illuminated. She knew about greed and corruption in high places, about the overfed bureaucracy, the undue influence of lobbyists and PAC’s and all the rest of it. But sitting in the heart of the nation’s capital beside a shimmering pool of water, with inspiring monuments to liberty and democracy all around and the exhilarating harmonies of the band still echoing in her head, filled Jenny with reverence.
    “What an incredible place,” she murmured.
    Luke wedged the cork back into the