Publisher's Synopsis
Blanche Taggart puttered around in her kitchen, fixing coffee, cleaning the counter tops, which were already ready spotless. She felt slightly fluttery. The feeling was both pleasant and annoying. Why had she agreed to meet Aceola? It could only complicate her life. And more than agreeing to meet him, she had practically thrown herself at him. He was so darned good looking.
She had known was a mistake to go into the gate house. Once she was standing so close to him, she felt that trembly sensation, and all she could think about was touching him.
Mrs. Taggart poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, looking out the back screen door at her flower beds. At least, she hadn't made a complete fool of herself in the gate house. Thankfully she had refrained from touching his bulge, but why does Monday have to be so far away?
