Flirting with Temptation - By Kelley St. John Page 0,50

would. It wasn’t like she remembered. Like many other moments when she’d visited a place that held a special memory in her heart, many things had changed. There was nothing sadder than realizing that you were out of place now, when once upon a time, you’d belonged here.

Her throat pinched tight, and she swallowed past it. There wasn’t really anything that should make her this uneasy; they’d simply remodeled. That was all.

The entire interior had been renovated, with cherry wood paneling, vaulted ceilings, and exposed beams. Or maybe those beams had been here before; she wasn’t certain. But the limestone fireplace taking up the entire right side of the building was definitely new, and the French doors offering sweeping views of the golf course along the back of the building were also new.

It was incredible, and it was a place Henry would have loved, a place Gert felt certain he still loved. Gert’s chest constricted and it became more difficult to swallow. What was she doing here? She didn’t need anyone else. She had her memories of Henry, and they were undeniably still very strong, very real.

What made her think she should even consider asking Henry whether she should see Rowdy Slidell?

Because you thought he might say yes, and you thought he might be tired of you sitting home alone, all the time, and wishing you were still a part of the world, instead of merely an observer, her mind whispered.

Without really meaning to, she ventured toward the French doors, opened them and stepped out the back of the clubhouse. Then she walked a bit more until she stood on the edge of the course. Memories of the last time she had stepped on this grass flooded her very being, and she fought to overcome the onslaught of pain, and of loss. She hadn’t worried about wearing proper golf attire then, hadn’t questioned what kind of shoes were appropriate or whether what she was doing was right or wrong. None of that mattered, since she had been the only one here. She’d simply been asked to keep a promise, and she had.

The scent of grass was stronger here, giving her a heady feeling that made her momentarily lightheaded. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

“Gertrude? Gert? Is that you?”

The sound of her name surprised her; this course wasn’t near her new residence, and she hadn’t been to Mirror Lakes in so long, who would remember . . .

“Paul?” she questioned, viewing the familiar yet more tanned and more wrinkled, face of Paul Stovall.

His smile slid the wrinkles in different directions, but even so, it was a nice smile, and a nice face. “I thought that was you,” he said, walking toward her. He was dressed for a day of golf, in a pale yellow collared shirt, tan pants and a pair of golf shoes that she was fairly certain she’d seen in the store the other day when she’d bought her own.

The wrinkles and the tan weren’t the only difference since the last time she’d seen Paul, when she’d said goodbye to Henry at the funeral. His hair was a lighter gray now, even more silver, and it suited him well. “It’s been a long time,” she said.

“Too long,” he agreed, then he surprised her by stepping forward and giving her a friendly hug. His scent, that musky masculine scent that said he was comfortable outdoors, enveloped her, and she caught herself trying to inhale a bit deeper. It’d been a long time since she’d been held, even in friendly fashion, by a man.

“I’m really glad to see you, Gert. How’ve you been? You look terrific, as always. I heard you were living next door to one of your granddaughters.”

She smiled. Leave it to Paul to keep up with her, even if she hadn’t even thought to call him after she lost Henry. He’d been Henry’s best friend and golf partner, and Paul’s wife, Emily, had been a dear friend of Gert’s. She’d passed on nearly fifteen years ago, well before Gert lost Henry. Paul looked as if he were doing okay now. Gert hoped she looked the same. She was doing okay, after all. She was simply a little lonely at times.

“Was it Clarise? I believe that’s what I heard, that you were living next to her,” he continued.

Gertrude nodded. “I was, but then she married a nice young man and they live in a neighborhood not too far away from my apartment. But I was fortunate