The next day, he left town to make sales calls down state. He’d blown it. Jenny wouldn’t call. He should call her, but what could he say: You’re dating Donnelly, maybe other guys. Forget about us. Man, real stupid. I don’t care who you date. A lie. She’d gotten under his skin. Put some distance between them, like Sarasota. That’s what his head said. So why did he have these damned urges and regrets.

Friday night he returned to his apartment, packed his bags for Sarasota, slept in past ten on Saturday morning. At ten-thirty, dressed for traveling, he stopped by his office to turn in his expense account. He’d cleared his desk when upside down under his slide rule he found a call note: Jenny called. He read the note, again. Does this mean all is forgiven?

Dialing her number from the phone on his desk, he learned Jenny left for Pittsburgh on the bus that morning. He didn’t know?

“Ahhh, no I didn’t. I found a note saying she’d called. I don’t know when.” Ivy was sympathetic. Some talk around the house, he decided.

“Why don’t you call her at Robin’s?” Ivy reeled off the number.

He wrote it down, asked what time she left.

“Early.” The bus stopped at Robin’s corner about three-thirty.

He looked at his watch. He could get on the road, head for Pittsburgh, see Jenny—if she’d see him—leave from there for Sarasota. He told Ivy he’d call Jenny later, thanked her and hung up. A few minutes later, he left the building, went to his car, took maps from the glove compartment.

Before five he’d checked into the downtown Marriott. In his room he paced with more scenes running through his head than he could handle. Hell! He wouldn’t know why Jenny called until they talked. He dialed the Tracy’s number. Robin answered. He told her who he was and asked if Jenny had arrived.

“Yes. She’s here. I’ll put her on.” Placing a hand over the mouthpiece, regardless, he heard her say, “It’s him. I told you he’d call.”

“Austin.” Jenny’s voice.

“Hi. I didn’t get your message until this morning.”

“Oh.” She paused. “I wanted you to know I was going to visit Robin for a few days. Mr. Corkran’s taken his wife to the Bahamas. Our office is closed.”

Corkran, the old scoundrel. “I’m on my way to Florida to visit my mother, decided to come through Pittsburgh. I’m at the Marriott.”

“You’re here!” Genuine surprise in her tone.

He laughed. “Yeah. I’m hoping we can get together this evening.”

“Oh, Austin. We’re going to dinner. Give me the number there ... just a minute … ”

He heard a male voice in the background, she came back. “Rich says, you could meet us at the restaurant ... if you want to?”

He had to be sure of her. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes. I do.”

That was definite. “Okay. I’d like to meet you there.”

“Good. I’ll put Rich on. He’ll give you directions.”

Rich Tracy introduced himself. Austin took down his directions.

Tambourines: A renovated, Victorian just off the main drag in the South Hills not far from the Liberty Tunnel, subdued lighting, dark wood, grape vines hanging from the rafters; earthy smells, music—strolling violins. He couldn’t have picked a more romantic spot. Inside the vestibule, a short, bald Maitre d’—bow tie, shinny dinner jacket—stood behind a lectern. “I’ll be joining the Tracy party,” Austin responded to a bushy, raised eyebrow.

“Ahhhh!” The man’s dark, deep-set eyes lit up. “Deek’a Tracy, the det-tec-a-teve, Come right theese way, sir, I veal take-a-you.”

Outside a movie theater, the most unusual accent he’d ever heard. Austin chuckled, his eyes adjusting to dim light as he fell in step with the thin, wiry figure bouncing through one noisy, crowded dining room keeping time with the music. At the second dining room, the Maître d’ maneuvered to a table. “Re chard, you guest ‘e ees arrive.”

“Thanks, Uncle Victor.” A young guy, about Austin’s size, dark, clean-cut, stood, extending his hand. “Rich Tracy, Austin, glad to meet you.”

They shook hands as Uncle Victor eased out of the picture. “Thanks for the invitation.” He glanced around the table; Jenny, wearing purple, violet eyes gazing up at him. Good vibes.

“I think you know my wife, Robin.”

They acknowledged each other. She was wearing black. There was an empty chair next to Jenny. He took it. “How was your trip?”

She smiled at him. “Uneventful. ... And yours?”

“The same.” An awkward moment, prickling sparks. He shifted focus on Rich, curious about the name association. “So, you’re a detective?”

Rich laughed. “Uncle Victor reads the comics. I’m with the state police. My dad is a detective. His name is Dick … Dick Tracy.” Austin figured Rich had used that line any number of times as an ice breaker; it worked.

It turned out that Uncle Victor was a partner in the restaurant, one of Jenny’s favorite places. Robin said they came here often. They helped him with the menu and the wine list. They ordered a robust red and a dry blush; the food a mix of meats, grains, greens, black olives: Mediterranean. He liked it.

The evening passed in somewhat of a blur. The Tracys treated him like family. They passed around the latest snapshots of a small son Rich called “the Terminator.” At times there were two conversations going on at once. He and Rich talked work and sports; Jenny and Robin, girl-talk and family before the conversations merged. The longer they were together, the more confident he became. His eyes kept meeting Jenny’s. What he read there said she wanted them to be alone. He’d make it happen, suggesting a nightcap at the Tin Angel, a popular nightspot close by.

“One mountain over towards the city,” Robin acknowledged, though she begged off. Nursing, she had to get home for a feeding.

“Relieve the sitter.” Interjecting, Rich read his mind. “No reason you two can’t go.” Confirming a family discount, he insisted on picking up the check.

Austin left a generous tip. His eyes found Jenny’s.

The Tin Angel one of her favorite places, the couples parted. In the light of the moon, hand in hand they walked to his Vette, drove off through the dark streets to the next mountain over and into a parking lot perched on a cliff; the confluence of two rivers flowing below.

Having her beside him felt right. He turned off the ignition, took her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers. “I’d erase that call I made to you, if I could.”

She turned towards him. “Our families are friends. Dennis helped me get my job at the law offices. Once in a while we go out to a game, or something. We’re not … ”

“My asking about him was out of line. Green-eyed monster got me.”

She took in a breath. “When I’d thought about it, I decided, if you where seeing someone ... seriously, I mean, I’d want to know.”

“I’m not seeing anyone seriously ... except you. Seeing you has gotten serious real fast.” He pressed her hand, kissed her fingers. “I’m falling for you, Jenny.” His throat was tight; he couldn’t keep his voice from shaking.

She looked into his eyes. “My feelings for you are so ... intense.”

A grin spread across his face. “‘Intense, huh? I’ll accept that ... for now.” He released her, opened his car door, came around to the passenger side. Raising her from the seat, he took her in his arms, kissed her. A strong, decisive kiss. He wanted more, so did she, but there were people all around. Reluctantly, he backed off.

The Tin Angel, a cozy, low-roofed, one-room building cluttered with small, round tables, wire-backed chairs, canned music—Light Rock; the epitome of an intimate nightspot. He’d hoped for a dance floor. The awesome spectacle of city lights reflecting from dark water provided entertainment. The trick was finding a table. They stood close, touching, holding hands. A couple left front row seats; he led Jenny there. Through a wall of glass, they gazed upon a steel and concrete, still dynamic, modern miracle.

“It takes my breath away,” she whispered, warm breath on his face. “Lights all scattered, sparkling like stars; the Gulf Tower, blue, like the moon.” A violet brilliance reflected in her eyes.—Magnetic energy, they sat close, arms, knees, fingers, foreheads touching. He knew she felt the same strong attraction he felt. He barely noticed others in the room. A waitress came, he ordered a rye and water and a white wine.

She pointed out a rectangle inside a field of towers: Joseph Horne, the place she liked to shop. She sipped wine. Draining a chunky glass, he pointed out the buildings in the Golden Triangle, the levels where his customers had offices; on the top-floor, the prestigious Petroleum Club. He told her one day soon he’d be a member, and he’d take her there.

She looked into his eyes, an enigmatic look. “Where is the Marriott?”

It couldn’t be seen from where they were. He brushed her cheek with his index finger. “Go there with me.”

“I want to,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “I can’t.”

Too soon. Let down, not offended, his lips touched her forehead. The sweet smell of her hair, her warmth, everything about her turned him on.

A moment later, she whispered, “There is a place. You’ll go there with me?”

“Yeah. How far is it?”

“Not far. We can walk.”

He left money on the table. They slipped out a side door that opened on a courtyard. She took his hand, led him through the undergrowth, up a narrow, hard-dirt path that followed the contours of the mountain. A wall of light to the right, a sagging guard rail, drop off, a river rushed below. Coming over him, a sensation of great height, and isolation. They kept climbing.

His heart pounding, they came upon a rock ledge where she stopped. He held back. Fearless, a raw wind raising her skirt, she moved closer to the edge. Gazing out across dark, roaring water, she murmured, “Two great rivers flow together into one. A sacred place.”

Was it fear for her, or wanting her close that gripped him? He eased her back to where he was, before he realized where they were: the juncture where two rivers—Allegheny, Monongahela—form the broad Ohio. No real danger on this overlook. A breathtaking view.

Folding her into his arms, he felt the firm lift of her breasts, her heart throbbing against his chest. His blood ran hot. Man! No other reason for the turned-on way he felt. Tilting her face up to his, “Jenny,” he whispered. “I’m in love with you.”

“I love you,” she whispered, their lips touching, a lusty kiss, intense, wildly compelling—like no kiss he’d ever known. His hands wandered down her back, over the curve of her hips. She yielded. How long they clung there kissing, touching, he didn’t know. At earth’s edge and on the brink, a voice in his head said, this is not the place. “Marriott.” Spilling desire that overwhelmed him. “Come with me.”

Trembling, she took a step back. Her hands held his at arm’s length. “I can’t.” She watched his eyes, her eyes shining with desire.

Aching with interrupted passion. No words passed between them for long tortured moments. Pumped, he had to clear his head.

She dropped his hands, turned away, her voice barely audible. “Will you take me back to Robin’s?”

His arms dropped to his sides. He cleared his throat. “If that’s what you want.” She took a few more steps away. “Wait.” He took her hand; they retraced their steps back down the path. “Why did you take me there?” He looked back over his shoulder.

“It’s a special place for me. ... I wanted us to be alone. I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

“It’s okay,” he interjected, his voice raspy. He pressed her hand. “I let things go too far.”

On the way to the Tracys, she directed all the twists and turns. He drove slowly, his head clearing. They agreed he’d call in the morning, stop by on his way to the interstate. She wasn’t going with him, he was torn. He’d promised his mother, didn’t want to disappoint her, but… “What time will you be up?” He glanced across the seat.

She smiled. “Early, with a baby in the house. He doesn’t know when it’s Sunday.”

She wasn’t angry with him; he wasn’t mad at her. He felt deprived.

On the Tracy’s front stoop, they came together once again. He’d reign in his desires; he had to touch her, she let him come close. His fingers traced the contours of her face; he stroked her arms. “We’ve skipped over all the non-essential stuff, you know.”

She nodded, let go a heavy sigh. Her arms around his middle, her forehead resting against his chin “It’s happened so fast.”

His chest about to burst, he whispered close to her ear. “The next step for us is … ” he was thinking, sex.

Her arms slipped from him, trembling hands stroked his chest. Intently, she looked into his eyes. “Down the road a ways.”

“How far?”

“We’ll know when we get there.”

He was there; she wasn’t there yet. And she was worth waiting for.

Their goodnight kiss brief, passionate, as she stepped inside the house, her hand slipped out of his. He felt empty and alone.

A man shouldn’t get behind the wheel in a high state of arousal. Maneuvering his Vette back through twists, turns, tunnels, strong emotion affecting his normally heavy foot; he found an all-night filling station, topped-off his gas tank. He’d get an early start, but not without seeing her again. Every time he’d left her, the fates conspired to keep them apart. He couldn’t let that happen. Sarasota. He had to take her with him, or he wouldn’t go at all.

Back in his hotel, he tossed and turned, got up, paced, wrestling with powerful emotions. More than strong attraction, he was in love with her. She said she loved him. He believed she had the same strong feelings. She’d turned down the Marriott. No. The Marriott came first, then that moment on the overlook—a moment he couldn’t forget. He wandered to the window; a sliver moon in a muddy sky. If he believed in reincarnation, he’d say he’d known her in another life. That she belonged to him.

He’d asked her to go with him. That’s when she stepped back. “Down the road,” she said. Why not tonight?

A thought crept in, a voice out of nowhere: She’s a virgin. Man! That’s it. She’s never been with anyone. His hand ran down his face. If a man could have his choice, he’d choose a girl who’d never been with another man. It couldn’t be some stolen moment in a tawdry corner. Things had to be safe and right the first time they made love.

Sometime in the night, the rain came in torrents, exhaustion set in, he slept.

By morning, he’d made a decision, the rest would depend on Jenny—and, his powers of persuasion. He showered, dressed, called room service, had a breakfast sent up. Then he made some phone calls, one after the other.

At eight-thirty, he called the Tracy house. They were “up and running,” Robin’s morning voice said. He could drop by any time.

He checked out, headed for the South Hills across a desolate downtown. At the far end of the tunnel, lay a whole different world: church bells tolling, traffic in the streets, red brick houses strung up the mountains; windows open, curtains blowing.

In stride, the Corvette took the steeply angled streets to the Tracy’s place where he parked in front. Rich opened the front door as Austin came up the walk. More authoritative than the night before, sharp-creased pewter, gold braid, black and silver badges—the uniform Austin dreaded coming towards him on the highway. “Mornin’, Austin. Come on in.”

He took the hand that was extended as he came across the threshold. “Rich!”

“I’m on my way out. Half-shift today, church traffic.”

Austin chuckled. “Sooo, you won’t be writing tickets, will ya’.”

Rich laughed. “Never on Sunday.” He leaned in, lowered his voice. “Jenny’s in the kitchen. I’ll leave you two alone.” On his way out, he pulled a punch on Austin’s upper arm.

“Austin, I’m out here,” Jenny called out, coming to an archway, then stepping out of sight.

He caught a glimpse of tight jeans, a shell-pink sweater, gleaming hair falling loose over her shoulders. She was “comfortable” in jeans; he preferred to see her in a dress. That glimpse, warm surges passing through a dining room into the kitchen. There she was fresh and pretty as an April morn. What? Poetry not his strong suit, where did that line come from? “Hi there.”

“Did you fly?” She smiled, glancing at the clock on the wall.

He chuckled. “No traffic.” The short answer; he’d been in a one hell-of-a-rush.

“Will you have coffee? We could sit out on the porch. It’s so nice there in the morning.”

“Yes to the coffee. This is a great day.”

Her back was to him. She puttered at the counters. He stood off by the window taking in a bright, compact room: wallpaper with baskets of fruit and flowers, pale orange cupboards.

Jenny put two mugs of coffee on a tray. “Black?”

“Black,” he affirmed. “Where’s Robin?”

“Gone to Mass.”

“Oh, we’re babysitting?”

She turned to him with that soft rippling laugh he’d come to expect. “Robin took the baby with her. She says it’s good for young ones to take part in the rituals.” She went to the fridge and puttered. “I think that’s what the church is teaching these days.”

They were alone, no chaperone, she was stressed. “Are you Catholic?” Man! He was stressed. Why did he ask her that?

The question didn’t faze her. “No, I’ve been going to the Methodist Church with my grandparents. I was baptized there.”

She was Protestant, not that it mattered. Or maybe it would matter. He couldn’t be sure. “When I was in boarding school, they made us go to chapel. We resented the pressure. I haven’t been inside a church in several years.”

She glanced at him, listening as she placed small muffins on a platter. She wasn’t cold to him. She did seem on edge. He shifted footing. “They’re a fun couple ... Rich and Robin.”

She turned towards him. “They like you too.” Trembling, she leaned against the counter some ten feet away.

“Jenny.” He wanted to put her at ease.

The half-smile, tilt of the head, she trembled.

“Last night … I won’t come on to you like that again ... until you want me to.”

Her eyes looked into his. “It wasn’t all you. I knew I was playing with fire.” Their eyes held a moment, before she turned, picked up the tray. “Can we go out on the porch?”

The porch was safe, he decided. He held open the door; she eased past him onto a small, open side porch—a swing, some chairs and a picnic table where she set the tray down. They slid onto benches across from each other.

As uneasy as she was, was he overconfident? He forged ahead, holding his hand out to her. “Have you had second thoughts?”

She put her hand in his. “I love you, Austin. I’m sure of my feelings. All this is new to me, and … scary.”

Scary it was. He nodded, kissed her fingers. They sipped coffee, nibbled muffins, small talk. A moment later, he would ask the question he’d planned to ask. Now he used his lead in. “Do you remember our first date … the Chinese restaurant?”

She nodded. “The Red Dragon.”

“You asked me how adventurous I was.”

“I did?”

“You did.” He pressed her hand. “Now I’m asking you. ... How adventurous are you?”

Thoughtful, she studied his face.

He forged ahead. “Would you ... elope?”

Those incredible eyes went wide; she took in a shallow breath.

His heart tripping twice its normal rate, he laid out his plan. “There’s no waiting period in the southern states. I’ve made reservations.” He paused, taking both hands in his. “We can get married on the way.”

Her hands trembling in his, she took in a breath. No words came out.

Forcefully, he went on. “Go with me Jenny. Marry me.” His eyes fixed on her face for some sign of her thinking. He was thinking: say yes.

“Austin,” she murmured a catch in her throat. “I will go with you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “And … yes, I want to marry you.”

When Robin pulled into her driveway, they’d moved onto the porch swing, and they were in each other’s arms. Averting her eyes, Robin took her sleeping baby from his car seat, propped him on her shoulder, carried him inside.

As she passed, Jenny whispered, “Come back, Robin. We have something to tell you.”

Under Robin‘s influence, would she change her mind?

Moments later, he heard the steps creak; Robin came out on the porch, sighed, as she dropped into a chair. “He always falls asleep in the car. It won’t last long.” Across the short expanse, she studied them, leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Something’s happened with you two.”

They glanced at each other. Jenny gave him a look that said, she wanted him to say the words. Calmly, Austin announced, “We’re getting married.”

“Oh! Good Lord!” Robin came half out of her chair, then all the way. “Last night when we got home, Rich told me this would happen. You know Rich … sixth sense. I’m floored!”

They laughed. Jenny said, “We’re happy about this.”

Robin returned to her chair. “Have you set a date?”

“I’m going to Florida with Austin. We’ll be married on the way.”

Robin’s eyes went wide, a note of caution in her tone. “Jenny, you have to tell the family. You know how they are.” She gave him a sideways glance.

“You’ll keep our secret, won’t you, for a few days.” Jenny pleaded. “We’ll tell Austin’s mother, then I’ll call Mom from Sarasota.”

Robin bobbed up again, pacing the porch. “Then your mom will call my mom, and on and on.” She laughed, they joined in. “I have to tell Rich, but we’ll keep it quiet, if that’s what you want.” She focused on Austin, “I guess you’ll be leaving today.” Her eyes went from him to Jenny. “What can I do?”

“You can let me borrow your white, silk dress.

“It’s yours.”

“You’ll hurry,” Austin cautioned, before he let her go. The two of them headed up the stairs to get Jenny packed. A bond like sisters, or best friends, they could girl-talk well into the night. He’d never been that close to anyone, not even John, and they’d known each other all their lives. He was marrying into a close-knit family. For a fleeting moment, he wondered how he’d fit in. Pacing while he waited, would Robin try to dissuade Jenny from going off with him? What was that sideways glance all about? He liked Rich and Robin; it seems they’d accepted him. Right now, he had to focus on the drive ahead—and Jenny. Tonight for the first time, they’d be lovers.

Before noon, they’d crossed the Pennsylvania border; by late afternoon, dropped down through West Virginia. He drove as fast as he dared They didn’t talk much, their eyes meeting from time to time with a sure and steady gaze—no second thoughts. By nightfall, in a purple mountain haze, they found their wide place in the road.

He said, “This feels right.”

She felt, “wild and free.”

He bought a bouquet from a roadside stand: daffodil and Iris—spring flowers, her favorite. At the Justice of the Peace, a minor glitch developed. He’d thought of everything except a ring, there was nowhere he could buy one. The Justice said they didn’t need a ring, but he wanted her to have one. They said their vows, signed a certificate of marriage.

On the way to their hotel, he told her his mother’s husband owned a jewelry business. In Sarasota, he’d buy her any ring she wanted. She said, a wide, gold band would do.

He’d booked the best room at the Inn, two long-stemmed glasses on the table, a bottle chilling in a silver bucket, lights turned low; his bride radiant in white silk. They stepped inside; he closed the door, drew in a long, deep breath. Why was he so skittish? As a lover, he was no neophyte. Slowly, his hand trembling, he turned the bottle in slivers of ice. “Champagne?”

She glanced at the glasses on the table, shook her head ever so slightly. Violet eyes settled on his, her expression steady. Slipping out of her pumps, she walked across the room to where there was a closet. “I have to return this to Robin.” Behind a half-closed door she raised white silk over her head; gleaming strands cascading over her shoulders veiled up-turned breasts.

A dream-like outline riveting, he savored each graceful move. His pulses racing, his own desires so powerful he was afraid he couldn’t move. This one time, he would let her lead him.

The night before, they’d been on the edge of physical connection. Down the road a ways, she said. They’d know when they got there. “Down the road ... we’re there,” he whispered, his voice raspy with emotion.

The affirmative response he’d learned to interpret.

He stripped in under a minute.

Nude, she stepped beyond the door.

He took a step, hesitated, swelling within the sight of her so fresh and glowing.

She walked straight into his arms.

The act of love requires an able man, a consenting woman; two passionate souls, two playful spirits. Lovers still approach their first encounter with a fateful clumsiness: where do I put my nose, my clammy hands, superfluous foot? What sounds do I emit? Moans of rapture, gasps of joy?

All this and more distracts the lovers, until a passionate soul becomes the skillful guide impelling lovers through the deepest, darkest labyrinth of the body and the mind. Their destination: ecstasy.

At daybreak, Austin opened his eyes, somewhat startled.

Gazing serenely into his face, she played her fingertips along the muscles in his arms, whispered, “You were wonderful last night.”

“Oh. Ahhh, haaa.” He growled a low, ravenous sound. “That’s what a man likes to hear the morning after.” Stretching his limbs, he shook sleep from his brain, focused on her beautiful face. “You were pretty darned wonderful yourself.” Reaching out, he pulled her under him. “We could be wonderful again.”

And they were.