{"id":1253,"date":"2021-07-15T15:59:35","date_gmt":"2021-07-15T22:59:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/annroberts.net\/?page_id=1253"},"modified":"2021-07-15T15:59:35","modified_gmt":"2021-07-15T22:59:35","slug":"root-of-passion","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/annroberts.net\/index.php\/books-2\/romances\/root-of-passion\/","title":{"rendered":"Root of Passion"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id=\"pl-1253\"  class=\"panel-layout\" ><div id=\"pg-1253-0\"  class=\"panel-grid panel-no-style\" ><div id=\"pgc-1253-0-0\"  class=\"panel-grid-cell\" ><div id=\"panel-1253-0-0-0\" class=\"so-panel widget widget_sow-editor panel-first-child panel-last-child\" data-index=\"0\" ><div class=\"panel-widget-style panel-widget-style-for-1253-0-0-0\" ><div\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\tclass=\"so-widget-sow-editor so-widget-sow-editor-base\"\n\t\t\t\n\t\t>\n<div class=\"siteorigin-widget-tinymce textwidget\">\n\t<h2>Root of Passion<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><div id=\"pg-1253-1\"  class=\"panel-grid panel-no-style\" ><div id=\"pgc-1253-1-0\"  class=\"panel-grid-cell\" ><div id=\"panel-1253-1-0-0\" class=\"so-panel widget widget_sow-image panel-first-child\" data-index=\"1\" ><div\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\tclass=\"so-widget-sow-image so-widget-sow-image-default-13f2a8b12fcc-1253\"\n\t\t\t\n\t\t>\n<div class=\"sow-image-container\">\n\t\t<img \n\tsrc=\"https:\/\/annroberts.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/04\/Root-Of-Passion-1-229x300.jpg\" width=\"229\" height=\"300\" srcset=\"https:\/\/annroberts.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/04\/Root-Of-Passion-1-229x300.jpg 229w, https:\/\/annroberts.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/04\/Root-Of-Passion-1.jpg 761w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 229px) 100vw, 229px\" title=\"Root Of Passion\" alt=\"\" \t\tclass=\"so-widget-image\"\/>\n\t<\/div>\n\n<\/div><\/div><div id=\"panel-1253-1-0-1\" class=\"so-panel widget widget_sow-button panel-last-child\" data-index=\"2\" ><div class=\"panel-widget-style panel-widget-style-for-1253-1-0-1\" ><div\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\tclass=\"so-widget-sow-button so-widget-sow-button-atom-35500a5eb44b-1253\"\n\t\t\t\n\t\t><div class=\"ow-button-base ow-button-align-center\"\n>\n\t\t\t<a\n\t\t\t\t\thref=\"https:\/\/www.bellabooks.com\/product\/9781594931550\/\"\n\t\t\t\t\tclass=\"sowb-button ow-icon-placement-left ow-button-hover\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\" \t>\n\t\t<span>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\tBUY\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><div id=\"pgc-1253-1-1\"  class=\"panel-grid-cell\" ><div id=\"panel-1253-1-1-0\" class=\"so-panel widget widget_sow-editor panel-first-child panel-last-child\" data-index=\"3\" ><div class=\"panel-widget-style panel-widget-style-for-1253-1-1-0\" ><div\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\tclass=\"so-widget-sow-editor so-widget-sow-editor-base\"\n\t\t\t\n\t\t>\n<div class=\"siteorigin-widget-tinymce textwidget\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<h3 style=\"margin-bottom:20px ;display:block;width:100%;margin-top:10px\">Root of Passion <\/h3>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<style>\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t#tab_container_1293 {\r\n\toverflow:hidden;\r\n\tdisplay:block;\r\n\twidth:100%;\r\n\tborder:0px solid #ddd;\r\n\tmargin-bottom:30px;\r\n\t}\r\n\r\n#tab_container_1293 .tab-content{\r\n\tpadding:20px;\r\n\tborder: 1px solid #e6e6e6 !important;\r\n\tmargin-top: 0px;\r\n\tbackground-color:#ffffff !important;\r\n\tcolor: #000000 !important;\r\n\tfont-size:18px !important;\r\n\tfont-family: Arial !important;\r\n\t\r\n\t\tborder: 1px solid #e6e6e6 !important;\r\n\t}\r\n#tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav-tabs {\r\n    border-bottom: 0px solid #ddd;\r\n}\r\n#tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li.active > a, #tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li.active > a:hover, #tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li.active > a:focus {\r\n\tcolor: #000000 !important;\r\n\tcursor: default;\r\n\tbackground-color: #ffffff !important;\r\n\tborder: 1px solid #e6e6e6 !important;\r\n}\r\n\r\n#tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li > a {\r\n    margin-right: 0px !important; 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\r\n}\r\n\r\n\r\n#tab_container_1293 .tab-content{\r\noverflow:hidden !important;\r\n}\r\n\r\n\r\n@media (min-width: 769px) {\r\n\r\n\t#tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li{\r\n\t\tfloat:left !important ;\r\n\t\t\t\tmargin-right:-1px !important;\r\n\t\t\t\t\t}\r\n\t#tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav-tabs{\r\n\t\tfloat:none !important;\r\n\t\tmargin:0px !important;\r\n\t}\r\n\r\n\t#tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li {\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tmargin-right: 8px !important;\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t}\r\n\t#tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav{\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\r\n}\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n@media (max-width: 768px) {\r\n\t#tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li {\r\n\t\t\t\tmargin-bottom: 8px !important;\r\n\t\tmargin-right:0px !important;\r\n\t\tmargin-left:0px !important;\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t}\r\n\t#tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav{\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n}\r\n\r\n\r\n\t.wpsm_nav-tabs li:before{\r\n\t\tdisplay:none !important;\r\n\t}\r\n\r\n\t@media (max-width: 768px) {\r\n\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t#tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav-tabs  li  a  i{\r\n\t\t\t\tdisplay: none !important;\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t.wpsm_nav-tabs{\r\n\t\t\tmargin-left:0px !important;\r\n\t\t\tmargin-right:0px !important; \r\n\t\t\t\r\n\t\t}\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t#tab_container_1293 .wpsm_nav-tabs > li {\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tmargin-right: 8px !important;\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t}\r\n\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\r\n\t}\t\t\t\t<\/style>\r\n\t\t\t\t<div id=\"tab_container_1293\" >\r\n\t \r\n\t\t\t\t\t<ul class=\"wpsm_nav wpsm_nav-tabs\" role=\"tablist\" id=\"myTab_1293\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<li role=\"presentation\"  class=\"active\"  onclick=\"do_resize()\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<a href=\"#tabs_desc_1293_1\" aria-controls=\"tabs_desc_1293_1\" role=\"tab\" data-toggle=\"tab\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<span>ABOUT THE BOOK<\/span>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/li>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<li role=\"presentation\"  onclick=\"do_resize()\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<a href=\"#tabs_desc_1293_2\" aria-controls=\"tabs_desc_1293_2\" role=\"tab\" data-toggle=\"tab\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<span>BACKSTORY<\/span>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/li>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<li role=\"presentation\"  onclick=\"do_resize()\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<a href=\"#tabs_desc_1293_3\" aria-controls=\"tabs_desc_1293_3\" role=\"tab\" data-toggle=\"tab\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<span>EXCERPT<\/span>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/li>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<li role=\"presentation\"  onclick=\"do_resize()\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<a href=\"#tabs_desc_1293_4\" aria-controls=\"tabs_desc_1293_4\" role=\"tab\" data-toggle=\"tab\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<span>VIDEO<\/span>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/li>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t <\/ul>\r\n\r\n\t\t\t\t\t  <!-- Tab panes -->\r\n\t\t\t\t\t  <div class=\"tab-content\" id=\"tab-content_1293\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t <div role=\"tabpanel\" class=\"tab-pane  in active \" id=\"tabs_desc_1293_1\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<p>No risks. No chances. For Grace Owens, that means no romance. No matter how attractive she finds Dina Devereaux, she\u2019s not giving in. Any distraction from the extraordinary demands of her career as a vascular surgeon could cost a life.<\/p>\r\n<p>Grace\u2019s obsession with work could cost a life, all right, and her friend Margo thinks the life lost could be Grace\u2019s. She unveils a treasured secret\u2014a potion she acquired in South America that could change Grace\u2019s outlook on life\u2014at least for one night.<\/p>\r\n<p>The surgeon in Grace knows a fake when she sees it. To her surprise, however, the woman within is intrigued. What if it really works? If she let herself go, just once, would that allow her to return to her work, free of the increasing distraction that Dina represents?<\/p>\r\n<p>When an attractive stranger offers a wild trip to Las Vegas, the choice is clear. Should she or shouldn\u2019t she? Long used to saying no, Grace is shocked to realize how much she wants to say Yes.<\/p>\r\n<p>Ann Roberts\u2019 inventive tale of passion and romance explores the magic that happens when a woman allows herself to explore all her possibilities.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t <\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t <div role=\"tabpanel\" class=\"tab-pane \" id=\"tabs_desc_1293_2\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<p>Root of Passion \u2013 The edge of Erotica, at least for me\u2026<\/p>\r\n<p>I always like to push myself, learn new things, assess my skill level, my comfort zone. I\u2019m a lifelong learner so I\u2019m always looking for new ways to challenge my mind and abilities. When I wrote Root of Passion it was with the explicit idea that I\u2019d try my hand at Erotica.<\/p>\r\n<p>Since I was already going down the proverbial rabbit hole, I decided to add a layer of fantastical mystery\u2014a potion shop in a foreign country that seems to appear and disappear. One of the characters purchases a potion for a friend, who she believes needs more passion in her life.<\/p>\r\n<p>Of course, romance is a part of the Erotica menu, as well as a Happily Ever After ending, so the romance remained the driving force and the intimate steamy scenes were strategically placed (I thought) to move the narrative forward. There is that fine line between gratuitous sex and passionate interplay, and I\u2019ve always thought Erotica rode that line like\u2026 Well, you get it.<\/p>\r\n<p>What did I learn from this experience? I\u2019d always though writing sex scenes was painfully difficult, so Erotica was that difficulty magnified ten-fold. It\u2019s not that I don\u2019t like writing about sex or think I don\u2019t write those scenes well. It\u2019s simply that it\u2019s a challenge not to turn the scene into a biology lesson, as I often say to those I edit. With each gesture, kiss, or action, it\u2019s a choice between imagination or explicit detail\u2014and not using the word \u201cbody\u201d 86 times in the telling.<\/p>\r\n<p>In the end, Root remains my only foray into Erotica. An author recently informed me that of all my books, the Los Angeles Public Library has two of my titles, one of which is Root of Passion. I chuckled, pleased to know at least one person liked it enough to recommend it for purchase.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t <\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t <div role=\"tabpanel\" class=\"tab-pane \" id=\"tabs_desc_1293_3\">\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<p><p style=\"text-align: center;\">Chapter Three<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p>As was her custom, Grace allowed herself one extra hour of sleep on Saturday and Sunday mornings. It was a practical indulgence, but on this particular Saturday, when the buzzer sounded at eight, she could have easily ripped the alarm clock from the wall and stayed in bed indefinitely. Her body craved more rest, but she opened one lolling eye and saw the glowing digital numbers flip from eight to eight-o-one. Another minute of her day\u2014and her life\u2014had passed, and she was still acting like a worthless slug. She commanded her other eye to open, taking another step toward commitment.<\/p>\r\n<p>Her mind focused on the to-do list that hung on her refrigerator, a culmination of the week\u2019s epiphanies and necessary errands that demanded her attention: clean the bathroom, pay her bills, write a thank-you note to Aunt Judith for the birthday gift\u2014a book on modern art. She didn\u2019t bother drafting the note in her head, since it would come to her naturally. She loved art of all eras, but the modern period was one of her favorites. Then, she remembered there was work in the garden, and she owed her neighbors lunch for helping her fix the back gate.<\/p>\r\n<p>She often tricked her body by reviewing her to-do list, and in ten minutes she was out the front door for her morning jog. It was beautiful outside, and she loved running through her neighborhood, a stately pre-World War Two subdivision full of well-maintained cottages and bungalows. She turned the corner and saw Scott and Ray, her helpful neighbors, already out working on their yard.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cCome by for lunch,\u201d she called, stopping in front of their walk but continuing to run in place.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cWe\u2019d better have something good,\u201d Scott warned. He was clipping back some overgrown vines while his partner emptied the lawnmower bag. \u201cNone of that sickening seaweed stuff you gave us last time. There is a limit to healthy, Grace.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cYou got it,\u201d she said, waving goodbye.<\/p>\r\n<p>Why can\u2019t my yard look like that? She already knew the answer. When they weren\u2019t managing their interior design business, Scott and Ray trimmed, pruned and planted. She dismissed the fact that the inside of their house looked equally fabulous as professional advantage.<\/p>\r\n<p>She reached the end of the street, determined to run at least three more blocks before turning around, ignoring the cries of her thirty-six-year-old calves. She was starting to feel her age, and, as a doctor, she was wise to the changes that were coming. She knew she was prepared, having increased the fiber in her diet and abstaining from most fatty foods. Her only vice was red wine, but she rationalized the health benefits counterbalanced the negative effects.<\/p>\r\n<p>By the time she\u2019d stumbled through her front door, her legs wobbled so badly that she fell on the couch, her confidence shaken, knowing she needed to increase her iron supplement. Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. It was Margo. Unwilling to debate the Root of Passion anymore, she waited for the inevitable voicemail that she was certain Margo would leave and then replayed it.<\/p>\r\n<p>\u201cHi, gorgeous. I\u2019m sorry about last night. Look, I\u2019m going to Rocky Point next month. Why don\u2019t you come along and keep me respectable? You need to start gambling, Grace,\u201d Margo continued, \u201cand I\u2019m using that word metaphorically. The next time I go anywhere, you\u2019re coming with me, and I won\u2019t take no for an answer. And I still think you should try the Root of Passion.\u201d<\/p>\r\n<p>There was a harsh click ending the call. She rolled her eyes and headed for the shower, determined to dismiss the message and forget Eva\u2019s comments. She couldn\u2019t change for anyone. Experience had taught her that whenever she took a risk, only hard lessons and regret were the result. She reasoned that people chose their misery by risking their fortunes unnecessarily, looking for shortcuts to bypass the true ingredients of lasting happiness: patience and hard work. And as a surgeon, she had an ample supply of both.<\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: center;\">* * * * *\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cAm I boring? Honestly.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Ray and Scott looked at her, both wearing confused expressions. Grace lobbed the question to them without warning, hoping to gauge their honest reactions. Once the shock faded, they glanced at each other, as if to decide who drew the short straw and would need to answer her. After watching them shift in their chairs uncomfortably for another ten seconds, she didn\u2019t need a response\u2014she\u2019d already received it.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">She sucked in her breath. \u201cOkay, let me re-phrase that question. Am I the most boring person you know?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cNo,\u201d Scott said quickly, and Ray slapped his shoulder. \u201cWhat?\u201d he snapped. \u201cYou disagree?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Ray shook his head and offered her a gentle smile. \u201cI don\u2019t think you\u2019re boring at all. You\u2019re just careful.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cSounds the same,\u201d she said.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Scott speared a chunk of his Asian tofu salad. \u201cHoney, I\u2019m not sure where this whole conversation is going, but it doesn\u2019t bode well for our friendship. You\u2019ve asked a loaded question, which you have decided is also rhetorical, and nothing Ray or I say will be right.\u201d He quickly chewed his bite and held up his fork to make another point. \u201cThis is just like that time when you asked us if we liked that non-returnable purple blouse. Remember?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">She remembered. She hadn\u2019t spoken to either of them for a week. She closed her eyes for a moment, realizing that she was lucky to have such wonderfully honest friends, ones who didn\u2019t speak in metaphors and balanced out Margo.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she said. \u201cMargo told me last night that Eva broke up with me because I wasn\u2019t any fun, and I should gamble more with my life. I guess I want to know if you both agree.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Ray shrugged and filled his plate with another helping of salad. \u201cI\u2019m not sure what she means. Should you take out your 401K and invest it in a strip club? Probably not.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Grace blanched at the thought. She was careful with her retirement plan, increasing her contributions based on a set schedule devised by her financial planner, who referred to her as the poster child for a healthy financial future.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cThere are other ways to gamble,\u201d Scott said.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">She leaned toward him. \u201cSuch as?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cWhen was the last time you went to the store without a list?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cIt saves money if you know what you want,\u201d she argued.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Ray touched her arm. \u201cWhat about just impulse spending? Just get what you want?\u201d Her eyes narrowed at the foreign concept, and he shook his head. \u201cHere\u2019s another one. What about just spending a Saturday afternoon doing nothing?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Her eyes widened. \u201cNothing? But when would I get anything done?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Scott sighed. \u201cThat\u2019s the point, honey. You just let the day take shape. No planning. It\u2019s exciting.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cExactly,\u201d Ray agreed. \u201cHow many times have we called you to do something, and you\u2019ve refused because you had some mundane chore to complete?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">She had no answer. She knew she declined offers from all of her friends more often than she accepted.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cWhen was the last time you got laid?\u201d Scott asked pointedly.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">She shook her head adamantly. \u201cNo way. I\u2019m not gambling with sex. I\u2019m a doctor.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">He held up his hand in protest. \u201cI wasn\u2019t suggesting you hit the bars. That was merely my poorly worded way of asking you if you\u2019d had a date in the last six months.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cNo, I\u2019ve been busy with work.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Both of the guys bowed their heads at the overused clich\u00e9. Even she knew it was ridiculous. \u201cI don\u2019t know why I avoid connecting with new people,\u201d she admitted.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Ray waved his fork at her. \u201cWhat about that hot chick at the end of your block? Dina what\u2019s her name. Have you even spoken to her?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Her cheeks burned and she looked away.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cI\u2019m so disappointed,\u201d Scott chastised her. \u201cWe spent three hours counseling you about how to get to know that woman, and I can\u2019t believe you\u2019ve ignored all that free advice.\u201d He looked at Ray and shrugged. \u201cWhy do we waste our time on her?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cI don\u2019t think you\u2019ll ever meet her,\u201d Ray challenged.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cOkay, okay, I\u2019m sorry,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019ll make a point to introduce myself, but I can\u2019t imagine it going anywhere. She looks like she\u2019s eighteen,\u201d she quickly added.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cShe\u2019s older than eighteen,\u201d Scott said. \u201cShe\u2019s twenty-four.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cTwenty-four? How do you know that?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cBecause I made the effort to meet her a few weeks ago when she was out walking her monstrosity of a dog.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cSo?\u201d Grace asked, recognizing that her punishment would be to pry each detail from Scott\u2019s memory.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cShe didn\u2019t say a lot. She works for a landscaper, been in the valley for the last two years, and she\u2019s renting her house from the family who used to live there.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Grace shook her head. \u201cTwenty-four?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Ray touched her shoulder. \u201cHoney, at this point for you, twenty-four is just right. Go out and have a good time. A really good time. You\u2019re not looking for a mate, just a date.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Grace sighed. \u201cFine. I\u2019ll go knock on her door. Will that make you both happy?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">They grinned and let the subject drop, regaling her with their plans for a hiking expedition to the Andes. She loved hearing about their vacations, which were never ordinary. While everyone she knew took cruises or tours through Europe, Ray and Scott traveled to unusual places and came back with the funniest vacation stories she\u2019d ever heard. They\u2019d gone on safari in Africa, hiked through Malaysia and spent time in Amsterdam\u2019s red-light district. As Ray reviewed the rigorous exercise routine they were using to prepare for their hike on the Inca Trail, it dawned on her that she\u2019d surrounded herself with people who were nothing like her. Ray, Scott and Margo were her best friends, but she had nothing in common with them. <em>Why do they even like me?<\/em><\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">That question nagged at her long after they\u2019d left. She wondered when they\u2019d get sick of her and just give up on the lost cause that was her life. She glanced at her daily planner and busied herself with the other four things that needed to be done before Saturday ended. And indeed, by eight o\u2019clock that night, she\u2019d managed to reorganize her closet, clean the kitchen cabinets and written the thank-you note to Aunt Judith. She\u2019d already decided that the rest of her evening would involve red wine, a hot bath and the mystery novel she\u2019d picked up at the local women\u2019s bookstore, but not before she took out the garbage and recycling.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">The street was typically quiet on Saturday nights since the area catered to working professionals. There were few families, but the children who lived on her block were well-mannered and helpful. It was ideal for her, and she couldn\u2019t imagine living anywhere else.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">She glanced down the block at Dina Devereux\u2019s house, a small adobe that sat on the corner where the street dead-ended. Even her name was exotic, and it matched her lifestyle, or so Grace thought. She drove an antique, dark blue Ford truck, the kind with the tiny tailgate. Her front yard was a visual masterpiece. She often saw her outside on her hands and knees, planting and pulling weeds. She frequently wore cutoffs and tank tops, revealing a sinewy tanned body, including an interesting tattoo that sat at the base of her spine. Of course, Grace had never gotten close enough to examine it, but from a distance, she could tell the artwork was intricate. They occasionally waved at each other whenever Dina drove by on her way into or out of the neighborhood. She had a great smile, and her HATE IS NOT A FAMILY VALUE bumper sticker clued Grace into her sexuality.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Dina\u2019s front light cast a warm glow over her porch. She was probably home, as the truck was in the driveway and lights were on inside. She wondered how Dina spent her nights. Often there were other cars parked along the curb, and she must have a multitude of friends who visited, but they were never loud or obnoxious.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">She glanced once more at the little adobe house, thinking about her promise to Ray and Scott. She realized she\u2019d forgotten to grab the mail, and when she thumbed through it, she found something addressed to Dina. Judging from the return address, it was probably junk, and Dina wouldn\u2019t even miss it if Grace tossed it into the trash, but Ray\u2019s challenge echoed in her ears.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">I don\u2019t think you\u2019ll ever meet her.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">She headed out the door, but her steps slowed the closer she came to the house, until she\u2019d planted herself at the end of Dina\u2019s front walk. She tapped the letter in her hand, rationalizing that she really shouldn\u2019t bother her neighbor over such a triviality. She\u2019d convinced herself to go home when the front door opened and Dina emerged, digging through her pockets for her keys. She was dressed as if she was hitting the clubs, wearing tight jeans, a black T-shirt and a faded denim jacket. Her short, brown hair fell in her eyes and she brushed it away with her hand. She didn\u2019t notice Grace at first, until she headed down the porch steps.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cOh, hi,\u201d she said, an electric smile on her face. \u201cYou live down the block, right?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Now that Dina had pulled her into a conversation, Grace felt obligated to trek up the walk and introduce herself. Why had she even bothered? She automatically held out the letter.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cUm, I got some of your mail.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Still smiling, Dina shook her head. \u201cWeird. I don\u2019t get how that mail lady makes these mistakes. I mean, it\u2019d be one thing if we lived next door to each other, but she\u2019s totally confused. Last week I got this porno catalogue for some guy three streets down. I think she\u2019s pretty clueless.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Grace laughed in agreement. \u201cI know. Sometimes I think we all should just meet in the middle of the street each evening to redistribute it.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cNow there\u2019s a plan. Oh, by the way, I\u2019m Dina Devereux.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">She stuck out her hand, and Grace noticed she wore a different silver ring on each finger and several bracelets on her forearm.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cGrace Owens.\u201d She glanced at the truck and automatically stepped back. \u201cWell, I can see that you were on your way out, so I\u2019ll let you get on with your evening. I just didn\u2019t want you to miss whatever exciting opportunity is mentioned in that letter.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Dina rolled her eyes. \u201cI\u2019m sure. Thanks for bringing it by.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Grace nodded and offered a feeble wave. I\u2019ve done what I promised to do. I met her. I even shook her hand. Ha.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cHey, Grace.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">She whirled around. \u201cYes?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cYou wouldn\u2019t by any chance like jazz would you?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\"I love jazz.\"<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cI\u2019m heading out to this great new club in Cave Creek that nobody knows is great yet. Do you wanna come?\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cOh, no. I don\u2019t think so,\u201d she said automatically. \u201cI\u2019ve already got plans. But thanks.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Dina smiled. \u201cSure. I know it\u2019s totally short notice. Maybe next time.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Grace watched her hop into the truck, noticing she had a great figure. She quickly turned away and started back toward her house.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Dina pulled up beside her and called through the window, \u201cHey, let me know if you ever want to plant anything along the front. I could hook you up with some great shrubs.\u201d<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">\u201cThanks,\u201d Grace said, as Dina drove off.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">She entered her quiet house and locked the front door, unsure of what she wanted. The idea of curling up in a hot tub seemed ridiculous now, and she couldn\u2019t talk herself into enjoying anything\u2014a DVD, a project, not even a quick shopping trip on the Internet. She lost an hour just meandering through the rooms, standing in the doorways, looking out the windows into the backyard and sitting at her dining room table. She replayed her conversation with Margo over and over, thinking of Eva and the little vial in the oak box. Each time she pushed the idea away as absurd, it eventually clouded her mind again.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\">Unable to stand the isolation of her house for another minute, she went outside and stood in the center of her backyard, staring into the sky. An odd feeling overtook her, one she couldn\u2019t immediately name. And then it hit her.<\/p><\/p>\r\n<p><p style=\"text-align: left;\"><em>Shit. 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