The inner skeptic always kept company with the voice of practical truth, which was pointing out, “Nobody that gorgeous is going to look twice at you, especially given the condition you’re in right now.”

When was the last time anyone had flirted with her? She couldn’t remember. Her annual blind dates for the Blackhawk Country Club summer ball never flirted with her. They took one look and that was that. Linda couldn’t possibly be flirting with her. “Can you imagine trying to walk this path in a sparkly evening gown and heels?”

The trail widened and Linda dropped back to walk alongside Marissa. “I’m not sure I’d call what Ginger did walking.”

“True, she did more slink than walk.” Marissa demonstrated, swaying her hips with one shoulder back. “No wait, that’s more Nora Desmond at the end of Sunset Boulevard.”

“No, you were doing great. You’re ready for your close-up, Mr. DeMille.”

“That hurt.” Marissa rubbed her shoulder. “I think I’m going to be sore tomorrow.”

“We all are,” Linda assured her. “You know, I never realized Ginger and Nora Desmond walked the same way. You’ve got that whole femme thing down pat.”

Marissa threw back her head and laughed. “I wear pantyhose once a year and that’s on pain of death.”

“So?” Linda gave her a sidelong glance. “There’s far more to being femme than wearing pantyhose.”

“Like what?” She followed the sweep of Linda’s gaze over her body. The intense study left her simultaneously feeling shy and bold—and confused.

“Bet there’s a purse in that backpack.”

“Okay, sure, most women do carry them. I’ve never been big on labels.”

Linda shrugged. “Me neither, mostly. They’re fun and useful for those who find them fun and useful but they don’t change who you are or how other people with other labels might perceive you. Or what a person might find attractive.”

Again, Linda’s gaze swept over her and Marissa realized that even though she was puzzled by Linda’s flirting, it didn’t make her feel dissected the way Ricky Skilecky and most men ever since had made her feel. She felt as if Linda was putting her together with her eyes, not taking her apart. Emboldened, she asked, “Are you flirting with me?”

“You noticed?”

“It eventually got through my dampening field, yes.”

“Ooo, geek talk. I like that. Talk geek to me more.”

“Maybe, if you’re a good girl.”

“Who’s flirting now?”

Who indeed? Marissa fought back a blush by thinking about dead puppies. She immediately felt guilty for visualizing such a gruesome thing and forgot all about blushing. “You noticed?”

“Right away, ma’am.”

They walked for a minute in companionable silence and Marissa let her mind wander. With a shock she realized she was picturing herself in that sparkly dress Ginger had worn, slinking along the trail while Linda watched and drooled. With Linda looking at her like that, it wasn’t hard to see the entire scene.

Just when she felt the silence had morphed from easy to lame, there were happy shouts and the front of the group surged forward.