“Leo? That guy you thought was so cute in your Renaissance Music class?”

“Yeah.” She sighed happily. “I think I’m going to marry him, Ellie.”

“Wow. That’s…wow. And, um, about Aunt Candice…you’ve maybe mentioned this possibility to her?”

“Nope. Not yet. But she’s going to love him. Dad and the twins will, too, I just know it. Leo’s so smart and funny, and his parents are the nicest, most laid-back people ever. Très gentils. His sister, Lily, kind of reminds me of you, actually. Really into books. It’s her son who’s having the bar mitzvah.”

“Got it,” I said. “Well, I’ve never been to one, but I hear they’re kind of like weddings as far as formal attire goes. You should dress up.”

“See, that’s what I thought, but Leo likes to joke around so much. He said I could wear whatever I wanted. That he’d like me best in a toga.” She laughed. “But then, he’s a fan of the Roman period.” When I didn’t laugh along, she added, “He’s getting his PhD in Italian history.”

“Ah,” I said. “That explains it.”

“Anyway, thanks for your help! I’m going to make dinner now,” she informed me, which made sense since it was only six-thirty Pacific Time. “What do you think? Egg salad sandwich and soup or a veggie-and-cheese omelet?”

“The omelet, and let me know how the bar mitzvah goes, will you?”

She blew me a kiss over the phone line. “I will. Thanks, Ellie. Love you!”

“You, too,” I said, but she’d already hung up.

Whoa. Marriage.

Again.

My first seriously close encounter with it had been my sister’s wedding to Alex, of course, but that hardly counted, since Di kept me completely out of the loop as far as her matrimonial affairs went. Kim, my good friend and undergrad roomie, was getting hitched soon to her longtime boyfriend Tom, and I was going to be in that wedding. But Kim and Tom lived hours away in central Wisconsin. I wouldn’t see any of their post-marital stuff close up.

But now — Angelique?

I couldn’t help but wonder: Would I ever meet a guy I could marry? A guy who’d propose to me? One I could take home and introduce to my parents as my fiancé?

Maybe Brent will be the one, I suggested to Jane, trying out the idea. True, I didn’t know him that well — yet — but he was manly enough. A macho man, actually. The only type of male I’d endeavored to date since Mark Williams (a genuinely wonderful guy who was the greatest boyfriend ever during college…until he “came out” to me). But Brent also has something of Sam in him, with that love of bantering and his natural…oh —

Impertinence? Jane supplied.

Well, yeah.

She sniffed, making it clear she didn’t endorse Brent as a marital prospect.

Your sister is a married woman now, perhaps she can offer you some beneficial advice?

I laughed aloud. Not likely, Jane. You know how I feel about trying to talk with her. You know it’s futile.

I know no such thing, Jane retorted. You are such a stubborn young being, Ellie. I only mention this because a time will come when you may wish to cherish your sisterly relationsh —

“Can I have change for a five?” a second-floor resident asked me, interrupting Jane’s latest lecture.

“Sure,” I said, pulling out the cash box and contemplating doing something reckless with Brent Sullivan.

I decided I didn’t want to think about marriage. I didn’t want to imagine Angelique getting wild-’n’-wacky at a bar mitzvah with her Stanford boyfriend. I didn’t want to patch up my relationship with my malicious sister. In fact, I didn’t want to have the voices of Reason and Maturity in my head at all that night.

Instead, I just wanted to think about Brent. About being young and free and potentially in love. About my own life and what I wanted from it: Some respect from my immediate family. A career I enjoyed and was good at. One man who cared about me and whom I cared about in return.

How bad could it be to, for once, go after exactly what I needed, even if the method wasn’t wholly and completely honorable?

What are you devising, Ellie? Jane said in her Warning tone.

Nothing.

Nonsense. Tell me. I implore you not to do anything regrettable.

But because I’d momentarily forgotten the tremendous pain I’d endured at the hands of men when I’d ignored Jane in the past, I shut my eyes and shut Jane out of my mind for the night.

While this skill was something I’d learned to do as I’d grown older (one I’d often had reasonable grounds for exercising, particularly when boys and bedrooms were involved), and while Jane herself elected to shut me out on occasion as well…this time it was a mistake on my part. No question about it.


Brent led me by the hand through the door of the now unlocked sauna room. Then he locked it behind us.

“Alone at last,” he said with his trademark spider-to-the-fly smirk.

“Yep,” I replied, eloquent as always.

I wondered what his lead-in line would be. How long it would take before he began to kiss me. If I could give off the appearance of cool until I knew where he was headed. And, mostly, if our month of verbal foreplay meant anything when it came down to lip-to-lip action.

I took a couple of deep breaths and surreptitiously studied Brent’s attractive physique. My fingers itched from wanting to run them through his dark curly hair, but I clasped them together instead.

I wasn’t quite subtle enough. He caught me staring and looked at me as if he knew what I was thinking.

“I brought along a deck of cards.” He punctuated this statement by pulling them out of his back pocket and waving them in the air. “Thought, maybe, we could play a game or two of Go Fish.”

Not the opening line I’d expected. “Here?” I said, unsure how to respond. “In the sauna?”

“Well, yeah. Every time I have to fish for another card, I also get to fish for an item of clothing.” He grinned. “One of yours.”

My heart, which had been pounding frantically, stopped. Then restarted. “Oh. Uh, Brent — ”

“Now before you go disagreeing with me, just think of how fun it’ll be. I bet no one’s done that in here yet. We could be total originals.”

“I — I’m not sure I want to make my mark as a trendsetter in quite that way.” Not that I was opposed to seeing more of him, but I’d expected at least an attempt at hugging or kissing before we started discarding clothes. I had to laugh, though, and eye his body one more time. Who else would’ve thought of Strip Go Fish?

Unfortunately, when he caught my admiring stare, Brent had his way in, and he knew it.

“Ellie,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “Remember, if you have to go fish, you get to make a clothing selection, too.” He held my hands and pressed them up against his hard chest. “Aren’t you even a little curious?”

This was the dangerous line women had to walk. Curiosity versus consequences.

“Of course,” I whispered. “But we haven’t known each other for very long and — ”

“That’s not true,” he said, adamant. “We’ve been friends for ages, and I know you’re nice and friendly, cute and smart, into poetry and English and stuff. I know you, Ellie. I just wanna get to know you better.”

I was being an idiot. Exhibit A: Even thinking of considering a Very Lame Line like that. Exhibit B: Going ahead and considering it anyway. However, this was a case where curiosity bested consequences. In my defense, I did make a brief plea for responsibility.

“Let’s get to know each other then,” I whispered. “But, please, let’s take things slow. I’m not ready to go too far, not just yet. Okay?”

He nodded, looking gleeful, and I realized I’d just given him the female equivalent of a Very Lame Line.

Brent turned on the switch to start the sauna. Within moments the room began heating up. At this rate, we might have to begin removing clothing before the card game began. I unbuttoned the top of my shirt and pushed up my sleeves. Brent untucked his jersey and plopped down on the floor.

He shuffled the deck like a Vegas dealer. The cards buzzed in his palms, smacking into each other and falling neatly into place. Then he dealt us seven cards each, placing the remainder in the middle.

He studied his hand and rearranged a few. “You can go first,” he said with a gallant smile.

I fanned out my cards. Two eights, a four, a three, a ten, a king and an ace. I removed my pair of eights and laid them on the warm tile.

Brent looked impressed by my early match and winked at me. “Way to go.”

“Thanks. Okay, I’d like a four please.”

He scanned his cards and his grin broadened. “Sorry, don’t have it. Go fish.”

What to do?

I selected a card from the pile. A six of spades. I added it to my hand and stared at him.

“What else will you take?” he asked, pointing to his torso with his open palm.

“Your, um, left shoe.”

He raised his eyebrows and slowly untied his sneaker. He pulled it off and handed it to me. “Hope it’s not too stinky for you.”

I shook my head. “Your turn.”

“A jack, any suit.”

Damn. I didn’t have it. I swallowed hard and said, “Go fish.”

Brent grinned as he reached for a card. “And I’ll take your shirt, too.”

“My shirt? Already?”

“Yep. Off with it.” He motioned for me to pass it over to him.

So, he was going to play hardball, was he? I unbuttoned my blouse and slowly tugged it off, glad my bra was full coverage and freshly washed.

He eyed me with an appreciation far more licentious than reverential. “Thanks. Back to you.”