Flirting with Temptation - By Kelley St. John Page 0,53

year didn’t seem quite enough, though Paul seemed okay with it. What did he do the rest of the year? He’d been a doctor, but had retired. Did he golf a lot? Did he stay home? He still had the athletic appearance he’d always had, so he must be active doing something fairly regularly. Gert wondered if all widows and widowers were as content in their single-again status as Paul appeared to be.

“How is it?” he asked between bites. “As good as you remember?”

She nodded. “Yes. In fact, it’s perfect.”

“Wait until you try the lemonade.”

Oh, she remembered that too. Mirror Lakes had the best fresh-squeezed lemonade, the club’s gentle reminder that this was a Southern golf course, and that the owners were known for traditional Southern charm. She wrapped one palm around the glass and brought it to her lips. The tart-yet-sweet combination that hit her palate was a welcome reminder that this really was a place where she was comfortable, a place that’d been something special to her way back then, and Henry’s very favorite place in the world. She smiled.

“Feeling better?” he asked, and she realized that whether he’d mentioned it or not, he’d understood the difficulty she had at even setting foot on the grounds at Mirror Lakes.

“Yes, thanks.” She knew a simple “thanks” wasn’t enough to express her gratitude to him for helping her accomplish the task at hand, readjusting to this part of her past, but she didn’t have the right words to convey the depth of her appreciation. However, Paul’s nod and gentle smile told her he understood that as well.

He finished his sandwich first, then leaned back and surveyed his surroundings, including Gert, while she continued on hers. The Reuben was too good to leave on the plate, and she’d always been a healthy eater, so she ate every bite, then every chip, and finished off with the pickle spear. When she was done, she drank the rest of the lemonade, and then looked at Paul, simply sitting in the chair and relaxing, and still looking at her.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“You have a little Thousand Island,” he said, the hint of a smirk playing with one corner of his mouth, “right there.” He pointed just above the curve of that smirk, and Gert dashed her tongue out to lick the extra dressing away.

“Did I get it?” she asked.

His eyes widened a bit, but then he nodded. “Gert, I want to ask you something.”

Heavens, that sounded ominous, but she merely said, “Okay.”

“Do you really want to learn how to play golf?” He pushed his plate aside, then leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his fingers clasped in front of them. “Because if you do, I’ll do my best to teach you. But something tells me that playing golf isn’t what you really want to do.”

“But I need to.”

His head bobbed slowly, giving her one of those nods that said he realized she’d made up her mind, and that there wasn’t anything he could do to change it.

And that about summed it up, even if the thought of actually taking a golf club on that course terrified her. Speaking of that . . .

“I need to see about renting clubs, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling the word out with his natural drawl, “Or . . .”

“Or?”

“You’re finished, right?” He grabbed his plate, then reached for hers.

She laughed. “I’d better be. There’s nothing left.”

His laughter joined hers. “I’m glad you enjoyed your lunch. Okay, then, let me get rid of these, and then I want to show you something.”

She grabbed her bag and was standing beside the table by the time he returned from tossing their trash. “Show me what?” she asked, like a child waiting for a present.

“Come with me.” He moved toward her, as though he might take her hand and lead the way, then he seemed to catch himself, and he paused. “If you want to, I mean.”

“Of course.”

They walked around the side of the clubhouse, down a rock pathway sprinkled with bold red tulips, and then toward a thick hedge of hot pink azaleas. Gert didn’t remember the hedge and was fairly certain that the pretty rock pathway hadn’t been here the last time she was here either. “Where are we going?”

“Around here. You’ll see.” He moved to one end of the hedge, than flipped his palm and waved her ahead. “See what you think of this.”

Gert stepped through and saw a miniature golf course, set up much like Twin