Five

"I bet you had something to do with the flowers?" she said, "Who else knows I like Dutch iris and star gazer lilies?"

"I hope you were properly dazzled," Joni said. "Mark called me this morning to ask what to send. You made quite an impression on him, you know."

"I don't know why," Andrea answered, "I was about as entertaining as white bread. Sports and politics are not exactly my areas."

"Well, I don't think he noticed. He was so distracted this morning, he could hardly form a complete sentence." Joni said. "I thought it was sweet of him to find out the kind you like. Most men think a flower is a flower. I told you he was something special."

Before retiring that evening, Andrea soaked in a hot bath by candle light. As she relaxed in the watery cradle, she wondered why she didn't feel differently about Mark. She wanted to think he was special. If only Mark would have erased all thoughts of Torry from her mind, but he hadn't. She knew dreaming of Torry was foolish, but Andrea wished it had been him, not Mark. It should have been, she thought, as she watched the flickering candles just beyond her toes. Thoughts of Torry had awakened her sleeping passion; it should have been he that tasted that passion when it could no longer be contained. How much more satisfying it would have been to lay holding Torry, sensing the rhythm of his body as they moved together in that timeless dance. How much better it would have been to feel Torry's touch when her desire exploded.