Chapter 1

“So, do you work on the fifteenth?” He asked casually between bites. “Working? Hot Date? Some other pressing engagement?”

“What?” She asked, pausing as she measured out the glass of wine one of the other dinner guests had ordered.

“Are. You. Free. On. The. Fifteenth?” He asked again in slow, measured tones.

“Smart ass!” she thought, rolling her eyes, and shaking her head.

She didn’t actually say it; a measure of self-control she congratulated herself on, as she instead replied, “I heard you, I just wasn’t sure I heard you correctly. Are you asking me out?”

His name was Jim, and they had met several months before when he had been ... not actually stranded, but close enough. Faced with a forty-mile drive home, with at least thirty of those miles being in stop and go traffic. Not how he wanted to end an already long day at the end of an insanely busy week ... So, instead, he had come into the bar to meet a friend from work and kill some time, in hopes that traffic would clear in a reasonable time, so he could go home.

Something about him caught her attention from the very first. She was sure – reasonably sure anyway – they had never met, yet there was something ... familiar about him.

Months would go by before he came in again, but for some reason she was glad to see him when he did. While not stranded this time, he was having dinner with the same friend.

The friend, Steve, was a regular ... heck, he was practically a fixture at the restaurant, usually dining at the bar; unless he had a group of friends or clients with him. Everyone seemed to know him, from the general manager of the hotel on down, including all the wait staff; the catering manager; bus people... everyone. He was very personable, introducing himself and making conversation with just about anyone who sat at the bar. Steve was good for business.

The two of them together? She quickly discovered that they could take an otherwise boring night and instantly turn it into something fun. They had ‘banter’ down to an art form, and the new guy was really quick, so you had to be careful what you said, or you could instantly become a target of opportunity. It wasn’t a bad thing, but if you weren’t careful you could find yourself struggling not to laugh until you wet yourself, or – worse – so embarrassed you were afraid your clothes might catch fire. The worst part of that scenario was that she somehow knew that they were the type that if your clothes did actually catch fire, they would probably roast marshmallows over the flames while making comments about your underwear ... you know, when the outer layer burned away enough to expose it. At the same time, they were the kind of guys that would then give you the shirt off their backs, and their slacks if necessary, to cover up, before walking out in their underwear like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The next time she had seen Jim, he had come in alone for a light dinner while waiting, again, for the traffic to clear. It wasn’t ‘stranded’ bad this time, but it was clearly going to be a several hours before he got home, and he had chosen to spend the time over a nice meal and glass of wine rather than staring at the bumper of the car or truck that kept stopping in front of him for the entire forty-mile drive.

It was clear from the start that something was bothering him. That it showed at all spoke volumes and they had talked at length as her bar-tender magic – and a glass of a particularly good Cabernet – loosened him up, and WOW; did he ever have a problem. Not so much a problem as a really, really, big decision to make.

Her little trip down memory lane was interrupted as he replied, “Not so much asking you out – I don’t think I’m what you would consider date material – as inviting you along.”

“Oh really,” she thought, giving him a ‘look’, “and you would know what I consider dating material how?”

She thought she had made it clear when they had spoken last, that she had no problem with dating older people. Granted she never imagined herself dating someone older than her father, but he was in great shape, considering his age; which she had a hard time believing when he told her. Hell, he was in better shape than most of the people she knew. He was also a very interesting guy.

Rather than push the point she decided to let the comment pass and asked, “Inviting me along where?”

“Wine tasting,” He replied. “They’re having an event at the ‘The Grill’ next week and I was considering going. Something like twenty-five different wines; with pairings, of course.”

She knew from her previous conversations with both he and Steve, that ‘The Grill’, was the New York Grill; an apparently very nice restaurant in the next city over. According to them, The Grill’s wine list was quite extensive and their wine dinners something you would kick yourself for missing if you got the chance and didn’t go. The fact that this one was going to be on a Tuesday night suggested it would be a bit more low-key than the wine dinners they usually talked about, but still...

“Ooh,” She said, her mouth already watering slightly, “Sounds like fun.”

“Could be,” he said with a smile, “If I can find the right shark repellant to take with me.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that! Yeah, an older guy (she wasn’t sure hunk was the right word) going alone to an event like that was sure to attract the kind of attention an older, successful, single guy really didn’t want. It occurred to her how much fun she could have playing arm-candy in a crowd like that. Most of the old cougars would assume she was his daughter and discount her presence entirely. Picturing the looks on the old piranhas’ faces when she stepped in and made it clear that, while she might occasionally call him ‘Daddy’, it wasn’t in a parental kind of way ... Oh yeah, this had potential!

“Ahhh, so you’re looking for a bodyguard?”

“Sort of,” he admitted. “Mostly I’m looking for someone to enjoy the evening with that I don’t have to worry about taking anything the wrong way.”

“Do I have to behave?” She asked in a voice that left no doubt what she was thinking.

“Oooh..., now why does that scare me?” He asked, shaking his head ruefully, before adding, “no, you don’t have to behave. I want you to have fun, but try not to get too carried away.”

“So, I shouldn’t hang all over you like a porn-slut and call you ‘Daddy’, but if someone gets too close or starts having ideas, I can make it clear that you’re leaving with me?”

“Yeah, something like that. I knew you were a great choice for this. So, does that mean you’re free?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she said with a flick of her eyebrows.

She was right, it was a great evening, and she had great fun frustrating the sharks whenever they made a run at her new friend. One was particularly aggressive, even to the point of suggesting that the three of them could have a really good time after the party was over.

The food and wine pairings were amazing to say the least. They didn’t do all twenty-five tastings, of course, skipping the sweeter whites and focusing on the richer flavors to be explored in the wide variety of reds. Still, it turned out the be more than she was prepared for; which was saying something considering her background. But, in her defense, they had kept refilling her ‘taste’ multiple times in between courses.

These thoughts – and more – occurred to her as she woke suddenly in a strange bed to the sound of running water and the smell of coffee brewing. There were a lot of them, and they raced through her head like the Millennium Falcon hitting hyperspace. Many would have to wait for answers until she could find someone who might actually have those answers. Others, like “where-the-hell am I?”; “where are my clothes?”, and of course, “Do I know whomever that is in the shower?” raced through her head with her mind in hot pursuit of answers.

Pulling back the sheet she discovered that she was wearing a men’s undershirt, the sleeveless kind they called a ‘wife-beater’ over – thank goodness – her underwear, which – thank you Jesus – did not appear ... well let’s just say that clearly nothing ‘untoward’ had occurred. She hadn’t bothered with a bra the night before. Not having been cursed with enough to worry might spill out in a careless moment, she generally didn’t need one and the dress she had worn worked better without it, anyway.

Thinking of the dress spurred her next action, and, moving quickly – too quickly actually, as she had to sit back down after the first attempt – she got up and made a quick search for her clothes, which she found hanging neatly in the small closet, next to the Hawaiian shirt Jim had warn the night before. The small carry-on bag tucked in below brought back a vague memory of him mentioning that he always got a room close by for these affairs.

That solved the mystery of who was in the shower, which she suddenly realized had been silent for several minutes now. On the one hand, that was a good thing, because she really needed that room. But then there was the problem of parading around half naked in front of a man who ... she paused for moment as reality set in ... who had probably undressed her and put her to bed the night before, so what difference did it make? A man who had, undoubtedly, seen his share of naked women in his lifetime ... and she wasn’t even naked. Even as she thought this her memory popped up an image of her standing with her head pressed against the bathroom door as he un-zipped her dress and let it fall to the floor.

“Arms up,” he had said softly, then reached to steady her as she wobbled slightly.

Even now, she could almost feel the still-warm cotton of his shirt settle down over her torso. If not for the air condition ... she glanced down and, sure enough, was confronted with the reality of the air conditioning on her near-naked body. Once again, she was grateful that God had not cursed her with anything that invited comparison with large fruit ... Yes, Jill was quite happy with what she had; petite and perky, they fit her body perfectly.

Taking the high road, she rapped lightly on the bathroom door, and announced, “Coffee is ready”, before pouring two cups and taking a seat on the end of the bed. When the door opened a few moments later she rose quickly, handed him his cup and all but shoved him out of the way.

“Good morning,” he called as the door closed behind her, “there’s aspirin and Tylenol in my bag if you need it.” She could clearly envision the smirk as he added, “Should I turn the heat up?”

“I’m fine,” she called back.

“That you are!” he answered emphatically.

Her muffled “thank you,” was probably drown out by the toilet flushing. The sound of rushing water intended to mask the sound of the other rushing water.

He couldn’t suppress the smile as he heard the relieved sigh that filtered through the door. Quickly donning fresh trousers, he pulled the hanger holding her dress out of the closet and held it in front of the door behind him as he sipped his coffee and admired the room décor.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully as they chatted over more coffee and a light breakfast, laughing at their memories of the previous night’s fun, before going their separate ways. She thanked him profusely for being a gentleman and taking care of her the night before. He brushed it off casually as being the only proper thing to do, but did admit to having been tempted – briefly – when she invited him to join her in the other bed. The comment spurred another memory and she had a flashback of the moment under discussion. She even remembered sitting up in bed and attempting to pull the shirt off as further enticement. He had gently but firmly tugged it back down, taken her hands firmly in his, forestalling any further attempts on her part, looked her in the eyes and explained in a very serious voice, that he was flattered, and that if she still felt that way in the morning, all bets were off, but that, tonight, he would be sleeping in the other bed, alone.

As the memory faded she rose and stepped to his side of the table, gave him a chaste but very sincere kiss on the cheek, and thanked him again for protecting her from herself. She could not think of a single guy she had ever been with, that would have passed on the offer.

He also apologized for not planning better and getting her her own room; explaining that the hotel didn’t generally fill up on weeknights, but that apparently there was a last-minute influx and by the time they arrived – returned in his case – a second room was not available.

Two nights later, when she arrived for her shift, there was a large vase of flowers with a card that said, “Thank you for a wonderful evening” waiting on the bar for her.

It would be almost two months before she saw him again. When she inquired where he had been hiding, he said he didn’t trust himself to get to close to her again so soon. As he was saying it he was giving her a very obviously looking over, from chin to floor and back again, shaking his head and making very appreciative noises as he went.

“In fact...,” he began, turning as if to leave again.

“Hey, hey!” She said. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions based on insufficient evidence.”

She then turned and made a show of reaching into one of the lower mini-fridges, while staring back over her shoulder at him. When his eyes finally got around to meeting hers, and she was sure she had his attention she turned, placed a fresh wine glass in front of him, and presented a bottle of Cabernet for his inspection.

“Still want to leave...?” she asked innocently.

“Well...” he began, making a show of inspecting the proffered bottle, before handing it back to her with a nod.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she said as she cut the foil around the top. “Steve says you guys have been really busy. I’m guessing that’s a good problem to have? Speaking of Steve, is he coming in, or are you flying solo?”

“Nope, just me.” He replied.

“Hmmm ... let me guess; Wedge?”

“How did you know?”

“You don’t usually go for steak unless he’s with you.”

They talked casually as he ate his salad, she tended the drink orders coming in from around the restaurant, and they caught up on what had been happening in both of their so-called lives.

Time passed, an easy, odd, sort of more than friendship began to form. When their schedules allowed, they even spent time together in the real world, usually outdoors and far from their usual circles. Occasionally in more intimate settings. There was no denying something was there, or at least, the potential for something, but there was a definite ‘holding back’ on his part, and given the knowledge he had shared of his still very recent past, she wasn’t willing to sacrifice what they had by pushing to find out what it might be.

Late August and he was in for another of those ‘not fighting that traffic’ dinners. Everything was as it should be ... but, something about the way he was looking at her as she refilled the coffee he was having with his dessert...

“What?” She asked, eyes narrowed.

“I was just picturing you soaking wet.”

“Dammit,” she thought, shaking her head. “I should know better than to walk in to one of his lines like that!”

Never one do back down she pulled his cup away and said, “That’s it; I’m cutting you off ... no more caffeine.”

“In a bathing suit!” He said defensively, trying desperately to keep a grip on his cup.

“Yeah, right!” she accused, pulling harder on the cup.

“No, really ... I swear! Do you have plans for the holiday?”

Okay, this had potential ... she gently pulled the cup downward toward the bar, holding it in place while she tilted the pot over it again.

“It’s Labor Day weekend,” she said, “I’m working.”

“Well that sucks,” he said with a frown. “When do you get off and when do you have to be back?”

“I’ll have to inventory the bar at the end of the weekend, and then I have three days off; back on Friday. I was going to come in Tuesday morning and do it, but I could stay late Monday ... why?”

“I was thinking of this spot I found a while back. Quiet, secluded, on the back side of a small lake about a hundred miles from anywhere. I was thinking of going camping ... maybe take a Canoe, or kayak’s, since I know you’re into that. What do you think?”

“I think you’re still regretting turning me down after the wine party, and are hoping that if you get me alone somewhere you might get another shot.”

The look he gave her had “seriously?” written all over it, and said, “I think I can trust you.”

“You think so,” she said knowingly, “but you’re not sure.”

“No...” he said with a thoughtful nod, “I’m fairly sure; not completely convinced, but I’m willing to take the chance. We are talking real camping here, though, so don’t think it’s going to be a weekend at Club Med down in Cabo. We have to pack everything in with us, and bring out the refuse.”

“Not a problem,” she said with a shrug. “If you let me sleep on the way up, we can leave early.”

The trip up was uneventful; for her anyway. After three long nights dealing with Holiday crowds, then an extra two hours doing inventory – harder than it sounds as the energy rush of a busy bar wears off quickly – and you have to actually pay attention when you’re counting hundred-plus-dollar bottles and could end up paying for any unexplained shortages. She had a bit of a crick in her neck when she finally woke up; it was the sun in her face that finally did the trick.

“Where are we?” She asked with a yawn as she stretched and looked around. The familiar southern California metro skyline and semi-desert hillsides had been replaced by vegetation that could only be described as ‘lush’. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen so much green.

“About eighty miles from nowhere,” came the reply from the other seat. “There’s coffee in that thermos behind your seat if you think you’re ready.”

“How old is it?” she asked skeptically.

“That’s my girl!” He laughed enthusiastically. “I love a woman who appreciates the details.”

“Yeah ... Well, three hours in the pot and almost anything starts to taste like all-night stop-and-rob.”

“Try it,” he said. “If you don’t like it we can toss it out and make fresh when we stop.”

“That close?” She asked. “God, how long did I sleep?”

“How do you feel?” He said, answering her question with one of his own.

“Pretty good, actually,” she answered, somewhat surprised that she really did feel so good after being asleep in a moving car for ... however long; obviously some time though, considering the brightness of the day.

“Then I would say you slept long enough.”

She took a moment to appreciate the wisdom of his statement before popping her seat belt to retrieve the thermos from the back seat. The aroma alone was enough to convince her that the coffee was not only still good, but was very good, and the first sip confirmed it for her.

“Mmmm,” she hummed softly, closing her eyes and enjoying that first sip. Allowing it to roll over her tongue and around her mouth before swallowing. Whatever it was before it went into the thermos, this was really good coffee.

An hour and many turns later they pulled up to the shore of a small ... it wasn’t a lake, but it wasn’t really a river either. Too big to be a pond, and it had a definite current to it. She hadn’t known there were any rivers this size in California. And the verdure ... unbelievable! It was like a tropical rainforest, only ... not ... there was still a ... dryness to the air, as if they were in an oasis surrounded by a desert that was doing its best to suck the moisture out of the area. Weird ... they had been driving though the green for at least an hour and a half – ever since she had awakened – and there just wasn’t enough ‘dry’ around to have that kind of effect over such a vast area.

She thought he had been joking about ‘packing’ their supplies in, as – with the aid of the powerful DuraMax powerhouse in the big GMC truck – they were able to drive right up to the edge of the water. But the first thing he did was pull a large inflatable raft out of a box and hook it up to a pump that plugged into the outlet on the dash. Once that was started he began releasing the ties holding the two kayaks to the roof-top carrier. Without being asked, she moved to the other side, stood in the open door and began releasing the ties on that side. Less than ten minutes later they were loading supplies into the raft, which was now tethered to the back of one of the kayaks. Jim then stripped off his shorts to reveal the bathing suit he was wearing underneath. Once again she found herself questioning the number he claimed as his age. She always knew he was in good shape, but the only thing she had ever seen was his arms. He wasn’t body-builder cut, but you could see the six-pack hiding under the soft outer layer as he effortlessly lifted the first kayak down from the roof-rack, and his legs were riding that fine line between ‘lifter’ and ‘runner’; the muscles lean and clearly defined but without that ‘boney’ look that marathoners got. She found herself wishing the truck hadn’t blocked the view when he turned and set the boat down.

“You know,” she said, shaking her head, “If you had told me we were going to be paddling to our campsite, I could have worn my bathing suit, too.”

“I know,” he said with a smile, “but I wanted it to be a surprise and figured you could change in the truck.”

“I’m sure I could,” she said, pulling her t-shirt over her head. “Or ... I could just change here.”

They had known each other for months now, been on several ‘dates’, ‘outings’ ... call them what you will, since the wine thing. Nothing serious; hiking the local mountains, lunch a couple of times ... even a few nice dinners. Their schedules made it difficult; he worked days with the odd weekend thrown in; she worked nights and weekends with days off in the middle of the week. They got along quite well, had even shared some reasonably meaningful moments – and some very nice kisses goodnight – but despite his declaration that first morning, that all bets were off if she made a play for him while awake and sober, he had passed up every opportunity to take it to the next level. She hadn’t been throwing herself at him by any means, but she had made it clear on more than one occasion that she had no problem moving forward, and she had decided before she accepted his invitation for this trip, that if he didn’t make a move, she was going to.