Dr. Stella Gerard, who has written several books on geriatric care, is recruited by Archer Aging Centers to help design their newest showplace. Recently divorced, Stella leaps at the chance to do something positive with her decades of experience.
Newly appointed Executive Location Coordinator Faith Archer is eager to prove herself to her stepfather, founder and head of Archer Aging Centers. More sorority girl than senior care expert, Faith is relying heavily on Stella's expertise to help create the next generation of showplace.
When a disastrous first meeting proves the two women couldn’t be more different from each other, working together seems like an unlikely proposition. Then sparks fly during brunch. Now all they have to do is find time to work together between getting to know each other better, one sizzling kiss at a time.
“Good,” she said so softly I barely heard her above the gently sizzling waves a few yards away at the shoreline. She was blushing, whether from the fingertip graze I’d just given her or the gentle spring sunshine I wasn’t quite sure. It flattered her soft green gaze as I twisted open the Chardonnay we’d selected to with our savory treats from Crumbles, the small gourmet shop at the edge of town.
I poured us each a generous helping in the plastic glasses nestled inside the fancy wine chiller, then handed Stella one. “To staying up late,” she teased, clinking our plastic glasses together in toast.
“Which hopefully means past sunset,” I teased back, admiring the savory treats packed into the picnic box she’d ordered at Crumbles along the way.
“Oh, sunset is when the date starts,” Stella murmured cryptically from behind her wineglass as I slid a finger sandwich from the row lined up along one side of the box.
“So cryptic,” I teased, savoring the brie and cucumber filling wedged inside two slices of pumpernickel crostini.
Stella winked and said, “Mystery is my middle name,” before biting into a mini-Rueben slider that looked as appetizing as the smile on her soft, red lips.
We shared a quiet, self-conscious laugh, eating with abandon after building up an appetite biking across town and sipping slowly, as if pacing ourselves for what I hoped would be the long night ahead.
It felt like a date, the bike ride, the picnic, the wine, the playful banter and easy laughter, but I dared not call it one. After all, Stella was a professional, a stickler, it would seem. And, while flirtatious, she hardly seemed like the type of woman to risk a business venture on something so meaningless as a temporary fling.
Or ... would she?
“Macaroon for your thoughts,” Stella said quietly, as if sensing my internal debate.
I smiled, reaching for the fancy pink bite-sized Moon Pie in her grip. “You’re not the only one who can keep a secret,” I teased, taking it slowly so that our fingers brushed again. This time they lingered, soft to the touch, warm, smooth skin glancing pointedly against one another until I snatched the sweet treat from Stella’s grasp.
Stella smiled and leaned back, sipping her wine as we shared our light lunch. I did the same, admiring the view and the way the soft sea breeze whisked the tendrils of sweet, strawberry blond hair across Stella’s radiant face.
We spoke less and ate more, gradually easing into the freedom of the day. Cold wine, the warm sun and Stella’s probing eyes proved irresistible as I indulged in a private fantasy that involved throwing caution, even professionalism, to the wind.
The only question was, would Stella feel the same if -- and when -- I finally shot my shot?
