His Sleeping Beauty. Carol Grace

house happens to be a great place for parties. Part of my job is entertaining clients and courting new ones. I’ve been afraid the noise of a party would disturb your aunt, so knowing she was going on vacation, I planned it for today. Now that you’re here, I don’t need to worry. See you at four.”

      “Uh…I’m not sure. I usually work on the weekends,” she explained. No way was she going to a party to hang around a pool with a bunch of half-naked strangers. She hadn’t come to the quiet of the suburbs to be forced into awkward and stressful social situations. She learned long ago to avoid anxiety-producing situations whenever possible. Let people think she was antisocial. Her life was just the way she wanted it. Besides, she had much too much work to do.

      “Work, on a day like this?” he asked, with a glance at the blue sky above. “Three hundred years ago you wouldn’t catch the Ohlone Indians working if they had a chance to play, would you?”

      “Probably not,” she admitted. “They took every opportunity to dance and sing and feast, but I’m not a Native American.”

      “But you know a lot about them,” he said, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

      “I should. It’s my job to know about California’s history.” It’s my life also, she thought. She never understood why anyone, Aunt Mary included, thought it wasn’t enough of a life. Living in the past, some people said about her, shaking their heads. So what was wrong with that? The past was full of exotic characters, ranchers and explorers, swindlers and miners, spellbinders and promoters. In Sarah’s experience, people today weren’t all that exciting.

      “So I heard,” he said, leaning over the fence and studying her with narrowed gray eyes. She couldn’t help thinking how unusual that was. She’d never known anyone with gray eyes. Gray eyes, a firm jaw and broad bronzed shoulders. What a combination. She suddenly felt breathless again. She inhaled deeply. She was fine. No wheezing, no reduced air flow. Just a case of jitters. Pretty silly for a twenty-five-year-old historical scholar. She’d better pull herself together and remember why she was there.

      “About the tree,” she said, shifting from one foot to the other. After all, that’s what this was all about—the tree.

      “Beautiful tree. Don’t worry, I’d never do anything to endanger it. Especially now that I know what it’s been through in the past three hundred years. You’ll have to see it from this side.”

      “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary, the view from here is enough. I appreciate it just fine so don’t count on me, I mean…”

      “Come on over anytime,” he said, as if she hadn’t explained she wasn’t coming at all. “The band will be tuning up around four.”

      “A pool party would be wasted on me,” she said. “I don’t swim.”

      “Don’t or can’t?” he asked, drawing his eyebrows together in a puzzled look.

      “Both. Either.” There. That ought to get him off her case. She didn’t have to explain why she didn’t swim, run, jog or ride a bike. All she wanted to do was to stop him from cutting down the tree. She didn’t want to socialize or go to any parties. She had piles of paperwork to do. Besides the research, she was also editing a pamphlet on the Missions of the Bay Area.

      “No problem. Swimming is not required. In fact, most of the women I know don’t want to get their hair wet. But schmoozing is required. You do schmooze, don’t you?” He was leaning so far over the fence, she could see the laugh lines around his eyes and the stubble of beard on his chin.

      “I’m not sure,” she said, taking a step backward. “In any case, I won’t be schmoozing today. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I have work to do.”

      “It’s Saturday,” he said. “Don’t tell me you have to work all day.”

      “Wait a minute. Don’t sound so shocked. You said entertaining was part of your work. So you’re working on Saturday, too.”

      He held up his hand. “Touché,” he said.

      “I love my work,” she said, and turned to go. Besides, she didn’t know how much longer she could be exposed to his bare chest without staring as if she’d never seen a half-naked man before. He was having an unsettling effect on her. It must be that she hadn’t had her coffee yet.

      “That’s what your aunt said about you,” he said.

      I’ll bet she did, Sarah thought. I bet she told you all about me. Aunt Mary might have even told him she needed to go to a party with a bunch of people she didn’t know so she could expand her horizons. Funny how people always seemed to think they knew what was best for you. Her parents sure did. They had hovered over her for years, giving advice and checking up on her daily even after she’d left home and had a life of her own.

      Sarah loved her aunt dearly, but why couldn’t she see that she was doing just fine the way she was? She turned back to face him. “Did she also tell you I’m here to keep an eye on you?”

      “Can’t keep an eye on me from over there at your house. You’d better come to the party or I’ll have to come and get you.” He grinned at her which annoyed her.

      “I’ll think about it,” she said firmly, and this time she made it back to the house without a backward look. But even then, she couldn’t shake the view she’d had of his tanned torso, quizzical gaze and granite jaw.

      Yes, he was some hunk of man. If her aunt had mentioned that, she hadn’t heard it. And if she had, she wouldn’t have done anything differently. She hadn’t drooled over him, she’d merely confronted him about mutilating the tree. Hopefully she could last the week without another run-in. One thing was for sure, she had no intention of going to his party. She looked forward to a long, peaceful afternoon immersed in another century.

      Max stood at the fence, absently scratching his jaw, watching Sarah walk across the lawn, shoulders back, hips swaying gently under those baggy pants. It was her. Sleeping Beauty. Only not such a beauty behind those awful glasses and that oversize T-shirt. He was torn between immediately blurting out what had happened last night and keeping his mouth shut for the moment. Sooner or later he’d have to tell her. It looked like it was going to be later.

      She was certainly an unusual type, even without the sleepwalking. Ms. Plain by day, a beauty by night. Definitely not his type. But then who was, these days? He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost two years, and he wasn’t looking for one.

      He had firsthand knowledge of how a seemingly perfect marriage could go sour and ruin the lives of not only the couple, but everyone else around, including children, friends and extended family. His parents’ marriage had shown him that, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

      Anybody with his job would naturally be discouraged from getting serious about anyone. Sure there were divorce lawyers who were married. Most of them married more than once. Who needed that kind of complication in their life? Alimony payments, recriminations. Unfair settlements. Child custody battles. Not for him. He saw enough of it. He wanted no part of it in his personal life.

      Which was why he avoided serious relationships. Casual affairs, good times…sure. As long as both sides were consenting and had no unrealistic expectations, why not? But after the train wrecks he’d seen in divorce court, the fights, the broken homes and broken hearts, marriage was definitely not for him.

      The way it was, his time was his own. His choices were his own. No compromises. No tears. No tantrums. No sleepless nights. He was a lucky man.

      Chapter Two

      Max knew full well what it was like to work on Saturday and Sunday, too. He’d teased Sarah, but she’d nailed him when she accused him of working today, too. He found his job challenging and he didn’t mind working on weekends at all. He hadn’t gotten where he was by slacking off. If he wanted to stay where he was, which was on top of the game, he had to work twice as hard as the others.

      He