hair was tied in a knot. The mingled scents of freshly
washed hair and Lily-of-the-Valley perfume taunted his nostrils.
The aroma was doing a number on him. She looked even more
attractive than at the Olympic Hotel. Feature by feature, Trent
dared not confess she had been guilty of disturbing his
dreams.
“ I guess you wonder what a nice
girl like me is doing in a place like this?” She cooed, her green
eyes flashing.
“ Do you read minds
too?”
“ I wanted to meet you,” she said,
a coy smile parting her lips. “I heard you would be here.” Trent
tucked his finger between his collar and neck and tugged at his
shirt.
“ I will be forever indebted to my
benefactor, whoever it was. I too am flattered; but disadvantaged.
We haven’t been introduced.”
“ My name is Lisa
Mallory.”
“ Anthony Trent.”
“ Married?”
“ Was.”
“ I’m a ‘was’ too, but, it’s not
what you think.”
“ There you go, reading my mind
again,” Trent said.
“ Sorry!” She pouted.
“ Have you been practicing your
parking?”
“ Sorry about bumping your
car.”
“ I guess that makes us old
friends. How about dinner?”
“ That’s too good of an offer to
turn down!”
“ Let’s get away from here. I know
a great place.”
Trent watched her creamy white neck and shoulders as
she rose. Charlie was at first nonplused, but when Lisa’s hand
passed under Trent’s arm, he grinned, the all-knowing male.
The Scarlet Tree was a quaint, out of the way bistro
in north Seattle on Roosevelt off 65th. The place wasn’t fancy, but
it was a favorite of the locals, a shoes-off kind of a place where
the crowd didn’t put on airs and the food was great. Trent pictured
Myrna sitting across the table: it did not stir unpleasant
memories, but, that fire had been banked. Trent asked for a bottle
of Chianti and ordered without looking at the menu. They shared hot
bread and toasted with Chianti. The spaghetti arrived steaming hot
and smothered with meat sauce. Lisa spun her fork expertly.
“ It always tastes better when
someone else cooks it.”
“ When you smiled there, for a
moment I thought you were Myrna, my ex-wife.” The disclosure was
unintended; it just came out. Lisa ignored it but turned quiet and
thoughtful, almost reticent. “Why did you want to meet me?” Trent
asked, eyeing her curiously. “It wasn’t accidental, was
it?”
“ No,” her cheeks flushed, as if
acutely ashamed.
“ I’m on pins and needles,” he
said, his laugh was thin, “and terribly flattered. It must be
because I’m so virile.”
She laughed. “Then, you don’t think badly of me?”
She glanced at him liltingly. Lisa softened, but he sensed a
barrier.
“ Let me guess. You’re a
policewoman and you’re going to arrest me for some heinous crime I
didn’t commit?”
She shook her head and smiled. “No, but I will hear
your confession, if you like.” She reached across, touching his
hand. Trent felt nonplussed. He felt the flow of a strange
attraction. Shelving discretion, he blurted impetuously, “May I see
you again?”
She met his gaze calmly as she brushed a strand of
hair from her forehead. Her eyes fell silent, then flicked up again
for just a second. “I would like that,” she replied, a slight
quiver in her lower lip. It was a physical embrace, although
neither had moved.
By the time he dropped Lisa off at Haury’s, she had
his mind in a complete whirl. The excitement was like a drug. She
squeezed his hand, tenderly, as they crossed the street to the
Corvette. He opened the car door: she looked both vulnerable and
desirable. Their eyes locked and held.
“ Thanks for a lovely evening,” she
purred.
She kissed him on the cheek, threw her beautiful
legs aside and slipped into the driver’s seat. Lisa started the
engine and sped away. The yellow Corvette disappeared in the
distance. Trent felt the years roll back. He touched his face: a
memento of an evening most pleasant. How did she know I would be
washed hair and Lily-of-the-Valley perfume taunted his nostrils.
The aroma was doing a number on him. She looked even more
attractive than at the Olympic Hotel. Feature by feature, Trent
dared not confess she had been guilty of disturbing his
dreams.
“ I guess you wonder what a nice
girl like me is doing in a place like this?” She cooed, her green
eyes flashing.
“ Do you read minds
too?”
“ I wanted to meet you,” she said,
a coy smile parting her lips. “I heard you would be here.” Trent
tucked his finger between his collar and neck and tugged at his
shirt.
“ I will be forever indebted to my
benefactor, whoever it was. I too am flattered; but disadvantaged.
We haven’t been introduced.”
“ My name is Lisa
Mallory.”
“ Anthony Trent.”
“ Married?”
“ Was.”
“ I’m a ‘was’ too, but, it’s not
what you think.”
“ There you go, reading my mind
again,” Trent said.
“ Sorry!” She pouted.
“ Have you been practicing your
parking?”
“ Sorry about bumping your
car.”
“ I guess that makes us old
friends. How about dinner?”
“ That’s too good of an offer to
turn down!”
“ Let’s get away from here. I know
a great place.”
Trent watched her creamy white neck and shoulders as
she rose. Charlie was at first nonplused, but when Lisa’s hand
passed under Trent’s arm, he grinned, the all-knowing male.
The Scarlet Tree was a quaint, out of the way bistro
in north Seattle on Roosevelt off 65th. The place wasn’t fancy, but
it was a favorite of the locals, a shoes-off kind of a place where
the crowd didn’t put on airs and the food was great. Trent pictured
Myrna sitting across the table: it did not stir unpleasant
memories, but, that fire had been banked. Trent asked for a bottle
of Chianti and ordered without looking at the menu. They shared hot
bread and toasted with Chianti. The spaghetti arrived steaming hot
and smothered with meat sauce. Lisa spun her fork expertly.
“ It always tastes better when
someone else cooks it.”
“ When you smiled there, for a
moment I thought you were Myrna, my ex-wife.” The disclosure was
unintended; it just came out. Lisa ignored it but turned quiet and
thoughtful, almost reticent. “Why did you want to meet me?” Trent
asked, eyeing her curiously. “It wasn’t accidental, was
it?”
“ No,” her cheeks flushed, as if
acutely ashamed.
“ I’m on pins and needles,” he
said, his laugh was thin, “and terribly flattered. It must be
because I’m so virile.”
She laughed. “Then, you don’t think badly of me?”
She glanced at him liltingly. Lisa softened, but he sensed a
barrier.
“ Let me guess. You’re a
policewoman and you’re going to arrest me for some heinous crime I
didn’t commit?”
She shook her head and smiled. “No, but I will hear
your confession, if you like.” She reached across, touching his
hand. Trent felt nonplussed. He felt the flow of a strange
attraction. Shelving discretion, he blurted impetuously, “May I see
you again?”
She met his gaze calmly as she brushed a strand of
hair from her forehead. Her eyes fell silent, then flicked up again
for just a second. “I would like that,” she replied, a slight
quiver in her lower lip. It was a physical embrace, although
neither had moved.
By the time he dropped Lisa off at Haury’s, she had
his mind in a complete whirl. The excitement was like a drug. She
squeezed his hand, tenderly, as they crossed the street to the
Corvette. He opened the car door: she looked both vulnerable and
desirable. Their eyes locked and held.
“ Thanks for a lovely evening,” she
purred.
She kissed him on the cheek, threw her beautiful
legs aside and slipped into the driver’s seat. Lisa started the
engine and sped away. The yellow Corvette disappeared in the
distance. Trent felt the years roll back. He touched his face: a
memento of an evening most pleasant. How did she know I would be
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