remained utterly impassive. Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. She had to do something, so she straightened her index finger and gave him a good poke in the back.
At the same instant, the crowd roared and surged. Deena was thrust up against the man’s back. The side of her face – her cheek, lips, and nose – was squished up against him. She could feel the heat radiating from his body. Then the man swung about abruptly, brushing against her breasts. Deena’s last jab had hurt. The man was angry as he turned. But when he saw Deena his anger vanished.
“Oh,” he said. “Hi! It’s you.”
“Do I know you?” asked Deena.
“No,” said Judd, making room so Deena had a clear view of the turtles that were rumbling across the green toward the finish line. “I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Judd Clayton.”
“Well, hi,” she said. “My name’s Deena – Deena Goode. Could you tell me what all this excitement’s about?”
“It’s a turtle race,” said Judd. “Turtles are big around here. This race goes back fifty years.”
“Hmm,” said Deena.
The first turtle was about to cross the finish line when Judd leaned down to speak into Deena’s ear. Then somebody in the crowd bumped against him. For a brief instant, he lost his balance and his lips brushed against Deena’s ear.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” said Deena. “It’s nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing . Both Judd and Deena were tingling from the lip-to-ear contact.
As Russ Meyer handed out ribbons to the winners, the crowd started to disperse.
“Well, thanks for the play-by-play,” said Deena. “But I better get going. I’ve got some shopping to do.”
Deena turned to go. Judd reached out and took her by the arm. He couldn’t let her escape.
“Please,” he said. “Won’t you join me for a cup of coffee over at Bond’s?”
Deena looked up at Judd. His fingers were wrapped around her forearm like a handcuff – or a bracelet. He was tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed. She was petite, raven-haired, olive skinned. A cup of coffee with him was the last thing she needed.
“All right,” she said. “Just a quick cup.”
*
“So,” said Deena, after the waitress took their order, “back there on the green – when you first saw me – you said, ‘It’s you!’ – like you already knew me.”
Judd was afraid this was going to come up. It had been a real blunder, but it had slipped out before he could catch himself. Now what could he tell her?
“Well,” said Judd. “I guess I could tell you I mistook you for somebody. Or...”
“Yes,” said Deena. “Or?”
“Or,” said Judd. “I could tell you the truth.”
“Why don’t we go with ‘b’ ,” said Deena.
Judd knew it was a gamble. He took a deep breath. He’d tell her the truth – or at least part of it.
“It wasn’t the first time I saw you,” he said.
“Oh, really?” said Deena, her brown eyes widening. “When else have you seen me?”
Judd looked her straight in the eye. Their coffees had come, and Deena was drawing hers near, as if trying to protect a valuable chess piece. The game was on.
“I’ve seen you,” said Judd. “In the lake.”
“Really?” said Deena. “Then why haven’t I seen you?”
“I can see you from my house,” said Judd. “I live on the opposite shore.”
“You must have pretty eyes,” said Deena.
Judd smiled and blushed.
“Thank-you,” he said.
Deena could’ve kicked herself. What a Dodo brain! ‘You must have pretty eyes!’ Or was it simply a Freudian slip – the real truth rushing to the surface?
“I meant to say, you must have pretty good eyes,” said Deena. “The opposite side of the lake is pretty far away.”
Deena studied Judd closely. He did have beautiful eyes. But they were behind a pair of lenses set in Georgio Armani frames. How could a man who wore glasses possibly have made out who she was from the other side of the lake?
Judd took a sip of his