Susan Donovan: The night she got lucky

Ginger took a moment to remind herself that she'd always been above average.

I'm afraid you misunderstand me, she said, her voice as friendly as she could make it. I just came to thank you for your help today and discuss with you when we might schedule the photo sitting.

The what? Lucio cocked his head quizzically.

Before the wedding ceremony you told me you took nature photographs. I asked if you'd take a portrait of me and my bichon and you said you'd be happy to.

I did?

Was this some kind of joke? Ginger put her hands on her hips and frowned. Yes, you did. You told me you were interested in expanding your business into weddings and pet portraits.

Ahh. Lucio had up until that point kept his body turned to the vineyards while looking over his shoulder to address Ginger. He decided to face her square on, and a smile escaped his lips as he turned. Of course I did. It's all coming back to me now.

Ginger rolled her eyes. So that was just a crock of shit, some kind of pickup line you use?

Lucio laughed. His laugh was hearty and loose, and it traveled up into the breeze. He was obviously a man who liked to laugh, and his enjoyment was contagious. Ginger would have laughed along with him if she weren't so angry.

It is not a crock, precisely, but I must admit I stretched the truth in order to have a conversation with you.

Ginger sighed. She was getting a bad feeling about this guy. It was never a good sign when a man stretched the truth at the first meeting, since, in her experience, truth-stretching was only one tiny step away from outright lying. So you're not really a professional photographer?

He flashed a big, white smile. I am, bonita , but my subject has been the larger scope of nature along with an occasional yak or Komodo dragon. The small domesticated lapdogsnot so much.

Ginger felt her blood rising. Not only was he messing with her, he was enjoying it. Then why did you offer to take a picture of me and HeatherLynn? She took a step closer, feeling the garden shadows envelop them. And, better yet, why were you taking pictures of Josie and Rick's ceremony today? Sonoma Valley isn't exactly the yak capital of the world.

Lucio laughed again, holding out his hand to her. Would you care to take a walk with me?

Ginger stepped back instinctively. I'm going to dinner with my friends soon.

Ah, then we will make it a short walk.

It's getting dark. She swallowed hard, feeling that strange pull of energy between them once more. It was almost as if she feared touching him againbecause the spark would be impossible to resist.

Lucio smiled gently. Please understand that when I said I am no good for you just now, I meant that I cannot recommend myself as a boyfriend.

Ginger's eyes went wide.

However, I would never hurt you. You will be safe on a friendly walk with me. The warmth of Lucio's smile intensified as he continued to hold his hand out to her.

Ginger crossed her arms protectively over her chest. I'm not in the market for a boyfriend, Mr. Montevez, and if I were, you would not be my choice. I try to avoid men who stretch the truth.

Lucio nodded silently. His hand fell to his side.

Besides, I'm simply interested in having a professional portrait taken of me and my dog. I'll find someone in the Yellow Pages to do it.

Ginger was about to turn and go when Lucio stepped in close, his dark eyes shimmering with what little light remained. I stand corrected then, Senora Garrison. Please forgive my insolence.

Ginger pursed her lips and tried to evade the pull of his dramatic eyes. All right, she said.

So, you will come with me now, yes? Lucio's hand rose from his side once more, palm up, as if to show the harmless nature of his offer. We will walk and I will tell you how I came to be taking pictures at my friend Rick's wedding, and you can tell me more about the charming and pretty Josie, his bride. And then we will say good-bye.

It was one of those moments that seemed disconnected from clock time. Ginger had no idea how long she stood there, her gaze alternating between Lucio's warm eyes and his outstretched hand, weighing the pros and cons of his offer. Who was she fooling? She already knew in her heart that this wasn't about a portrait sittingthis was about him .

She'd been fascinated by the man the second she'd spotted him milling about the lawn, taking candid photos of the wedding guests prior to the ceremony, pounds of heavy-looking camera gear slung around his neck and shoulders. He seemed dark and mysterious. Exotic. Languid and sexy, despite all the equipment. He had reminded her of a panther, sleek and dark, as he moved across the grass.

Dr. Larry Garrison he was not.

Ginger did not reach for his hand. She knew that if she did, there would be no turning back, that despite her above-average qualities, she would get sucked into the languid and sexy orbit of this dark-eyed panther man. And she couldn't possibly do that, because she was done being a fool. She was sick of being hurt. Besides, she had boys to raise, an ex-husband to rehabilitate, and a career to rescue.

Now was not a good time.

Lucio let his hand drop again. I cannot blame you, bonita . When it comes to men it is always smart to err on the side of caution, and I see you are a very smart woman.

Ha! Now that was a word Ginger had not applied to her personal life in a long while. In recent years she'd come to doubt not only her intelligence but also her basic good judgment. In college, her mantra had been Follow your bliss. These days it was What the hell were you thinking?

Ginger knew that if she were truly smart, she wouldn't have come out here to talk to Lucio. She wouldn't be standing here next to him in the low light of evening, aware of the closeness of his body, the scent of his skin, the weird energy bouncing around between them. If she were smart, she would have stayed away from him entirely. If she were smart, she would have ordered a size six bridesmaid's dress and avoided this entire dilemma.

And if she were really, really smart, she wouldn't do what she was about to do.

Ginger took a breath. She reached out a trembling hand. Here is my card. My numbers are on the back.

Lucio took it, intentionally letting his fingers brush across the top of her hand. Ginger nearly jumped off the ground.

He raised a single dark eyebrow and gave her a tentative smile. I am not sure what this means, senora.

It means if you suddenly feel the need to photograph lapdogs, give me a shout. Good night, Lucio.

Ginger turned and walked away, leaving Lucio in the garden. She knew he was checking her out. She could feel the heat of his stare all over her legs and backside. But he said nothing. He let her go without a fight.

Ginger appreciated that he'd respected her wishesfor the most part, anyway.

It was hours later when the four women raised a glass to Josie and Rick and enjoyed a leisurely dinner at Carneros Bistro in downtown Sonoma. While they ate, Ginger got the distinct impression that Mrs. Needleman was taking Bea under her wingto what end, she wasn't sure. Bea was an assistant sports editor at the Herald who spent most of her free time driving her Finnish spitz to West Coast dog agility contests. Bea was also a former Olympic swimmerexcept that she had never gotten to compete in the 1980 games because of the boycott, a tragedy she'd just described to Mrs. Needleman in dramatic detail. Ginger couldn't imagine what Mrs. Needleman and Bea had in common, but their camaraderie was obvious.

Roxie seemed antsy all through dinner, and Ginger couldn't blame her. Her friend's life was in transition and she knew she just wanted to get home. Roxie had been the criminal courts reporter for the Herald , but just weeks after an ugly breakup with her boyfriend, the paper had canned her. Roxie was trying to make a go of a Web site called i-vomit-on-all-men.com, an online community where women shared boyfriend horror stories from around the world. She'd recently expanded into retail sales of hats, shopping bags, shirts, bumper stickers, and coffee mugs, and she was struggling to keep up with demand.