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freshwater pool, swam a few laps in the saltwater pool, and fed bait-sized shrimp to the friendly egret, she thought of nothing but her upcoming date with “Joe The Cop,” as she referred to him inwardly. Her overall impressions of Joe were positive. She knew, though, that it often took time, much time, before she could be sure that a prospective love interest didn’t have a Jekyll and Hyde personality.
    As she continued to contemplate her date, Melissa searched her memory but couldn’t recall, even in high school, ever having gone out with a guy who had so many muscles.
    “I think I’ve succeeded in getting what I was fantasizing about this morning,” she told herself. “I just wish I could forget completely about that dreadful boat accident. But I can’t help thinking that he just wants to keep an eye on me, to see if I’ll slip and say something that’ll lead him to think I knew the two dead drug dealers.
    “However,” Melissa concluded, as she ended her day in the sun and began to shower and prepare for the date, “I’ll give big, handsome Joe the benefit of the doubt. Who knows? We may eventually live happily ever after—but it would have to be in a place somewhere other than Islamorada,” she daydreamed, once again. “Though this is a great place to visit, it’s much too far south of my professional ambitions.”
    While slipping into her lacy camisole, Melissa reasoned that if Joe weren’t so attractive, or if he were a woman detective, she’d probably check out of her room at the Seascaper right away and drive straight to the airport in Miami.
    Instead she looked admiringly at her reflection in the mirror. Her slight new sunburn glowed on her shoulders and neck, contrasting with the white sheerness of her camisole.
    “Now I know what all of those other women mean,” she reflected, “when they say they made the biggest mistakes of their lives by letting their brains follow their sex organs.
    “Melissa the snob,” she said, while looking in the bathroom mirror and giving herself a talking-to, “meet Melissa the common, average, everyday, boring woman.”

 

Chapter 3
    Shortly after the brunch came the first big dinner date. And since her romantic experiences had been limited to only a handful of suitors, Mary Ann feared that she wouldn’t remember how to act while being courted by an eligible man. These feelings of insecurity were further compounded by her embarrassment that Paul’s had been the wallet she had found in the church. Would he possibly be interested in her if he knew that she had almost stooped to stealing? She had, almost. But in the end she did the right thing and returned the wallet. There was nothing to be ashamed of.
    She congratulated herself for having the foresight to have one of her teeth pulled a week earlier. The dentist wanted to save the tooth, but that procedure would have cost Mary Ann more than a week’s salary. Her mouth felt fine now, and since the painful tooth had been far back in her mouth, no gap would be visible when she smiled.
    Looking pert and radiant in her navy blue suit and yellow blouse, Mary Ann noticed that throughout their dinner, Paul Reynolds seemed to be staring at her in an approving manner.
    Mary Ann believed that she was still thin enough to attract men. Though admittedly not as tall as she’d like to be, Mary Ann knew that her long, dark, curly hair seemed to add a few inches to her five-foot-two-inch frame.
    Almost all the men she had ever dated had complimented her on her cute face. The high cheekbones prompted her ex-husband to nickname her “Cherokee.”
    Mary Ann was hoping that Paul would be unlike the last two men in her life, who showed only a short-lived interest in her. Both of these “prospects” had, no doubt, been chased away by the relationship restrictions of raising four young girls.
    Paul, at five-foot-eleven-inches, was the tallest man she’d ever dated. He managed a local bank branch, was a widower ten years older