"Oh wonderful." Sylvia's voice was tinted with sarcasm. "Your first sale. That's so lovely for you." She then drew in a long breath in preparation to hoist sail and move off. "Now I'll certainly have to make sure you have a table again next year."

"Over my dead body," Darby said to her retreating back. She then turned at the sound of Martin's low rumble of laughter and found that she really liked it. "Thanks for that."

"My pleasure. I objected to how that woman was condescending toward you. Besides, I really like your work, and I do want these two pieces."

Darby felt flushed with pleasure. "Really? You don't have to buy them. I mean, don't feel obligated."

"I'm not doing this out of any reason other than liking your work."

"I'm flattered," Darby said. "Thank you."

Martin opened his wallet and counted out the bills.

"Would you possibly be interested in teaching someone how to do this?"

"Well, I do teach some art cla.s.ses." With crisp efficiency, she counted the money and wrote out a receipt. "I've never thought of teaching a fractal cla.s.s, but I suppose I could. Are you interested?"

"Well, yes. It would be a nice change from my regular work. Besides, I'd like to get to know the teacher a bit better."

Darby blushed for real this time. A brief flash of shyness made her hands shake as she handed him a business card and his fractals wrapped in protective layers of newspaper. "That's my email and phone. Call me this evening, and we can set up some initial cla.s.ses."

He took the card and waved it. "Thanks. I will." He tucked the card in his shirt pocket, gathered his new artwork under his arm and prepared to leave. "And thank you for your wonderful art. I'll really enjoy these. 'Til tonight. Bye, Darby."

"Bye...Martin"

Her smile widened as she watched him leave. She had a little extra spring in her step as she began packing up her table. She went over her conversation with Martin. He had been so kind and funny. It was obvious he was financially comfortable to drop $200.00 on her work. And he had flirted with her. He wanted to get to know her better? Well, the feeling was definitely mutual. She was flushed and energized, ready to take on...well, even Sylvia, if she had to.

Darby picked up the last fractal that Martin had set down on the table. She held it to her chest and smiled, reviewing every word he had spoken in his low-pitched voice.

Something about him had really attracted her, and it wasn't just his interest in her art or his gallant rescuing of her from Sylvia's onslaught. No, there was something about Martin-some intangible thing that had Darby very, very intrigued.

The dinner with her family turned into a celebration of sorts, thanks to the charming man who had set Darby's pulse to racing. She decided to ask Nathan to come over if or when Martin came for his lesson. Although she was sure Martin was a nice guy, he was a stranger, and she was smart enough to be cautious.

She got home later than she intended, replete from her mom's hearty beef stew, and found the 'message waiting' light blinking on her phone. Her fingers shook a little as she punched in her code and her heart sped up just a bit in antic.i.p.ation of hearing Martin's voice.

"h.e.l.lo, Darby. It's Martin Thomas."

Such a nice voice.

"Call me back, and we'll set up my fractal cla.s.ses. My number is 555-3069. I can't wait to get started."

Darby was sure she detected an extra measure of warmth in his words. Her fingers couldn't move fast enough to punch out his number.

"h.e.l.lo?"

She closed her eyes and drank in the deep s.e.xy tone of his voice. "Um-hi. Martin?"

At his affirmative, she plunged on. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here when you called. I was hoping to hear from you and well, here you are." She cringed at how silly she sounded. She heard Martin chuckle.

"Indeed," he said. "I'm sitting here looking at your wonderful pictures. I'm so glad I decided to stop in at the craft show-for many reasons."

Darby's breath caught in her throat. She swallowed.

Neither spoke for a moment, and she felt pressed to fill the void. "You asked about cla.s.ses, and I wondered when you'd like to begin." The sound of light laughter filtered through the phone and caressed her ear.

"That," he replied, "I suppose, depends on you. My schedule is pretty much wide open at the moment."

"What about tomorrow?" She said, quicker than she meant to. "I mean, unless you spend Sunday with your wife and family or work, or something."

"No. I'm not married, and I don't work on Sundays. What time would be good for you?"

"How about around one?"

"Sounds good to me. I have your address on your card so I'll see you then. Goodnight, Darby."

"Goodnight, Martin."

She hung up the phone, hugged herself, and whooped. The sound rang out in the silence of the late hour, and she did a little jig, feeling giddy.

Tossing and turning through the night, Darby's dreams were filled with a kind, smiling face telling her over and over how he really liked her work...and her. Even with the less than restful sleep, Darby awoke refreshed and eager to start her day. She called Nathan to let him know when to come.

By the time Martin was set to arrive, Darby had straightened her apartment, and prepared coffee and blueberry m.u.f.fins. She looked in the full-length mirror one more time taking stock of her a.s.sets, and was pleased with what she saw-a tall, soft, curvaceous woman with sparkling eyes and a bright smile. She ran her fingers through her curly auburn hair, and brushed imaginary wrinkles from her hunter green dress. She hoped Martin would like what he saw also. Her stomach was in knots, and she paced to try to expend some of the nervous energy. When the doorbell chimed, she nearly jumped from her skin.

It turned out to be Nathan.

"Hi, sis," he said and moved into the living room. He dropped his laden backpack and headed into the kitchen. "Anything to eat? Oh cool, m.u.f.fins."

"Don't you dare," Darby called, following him. "I made those for Martin." She scowled at Nathan's saucy grin. "Never you mind. There's plenty of food in the fridge. And if that's not suitable, you can order yourself a pizza. And this is business, so just do your homework or watch TV, and don't be a pest."

"Sure, sis," he said with another c.o.c.ky grin, and then turned his attention to the contents of the fridge.

Darby smiled and shook her head. At that moment the doorbell rang again, and Darby's heart skipped a beat.

With a last check of her appearance in the mirror in the foyer, she answered the door.

"Hi." She ushered Martin into her living room.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, handing her a small bakery box. "I picked up some m.u.f.fins on the way over. I didn't get lunch today and thought we might share these before we started my cla.s.s."

Darby smiled. "That was thoughtful of you." They stood smiling at one another for a long moment. The spell was broken by Nathan's appearance from the kitchen, laden with what appeared to be much of the content of Darby's fridge, including a large bottle of soda under his arm and an entire bag of apples in one hand.

"Hi." He plopped on the sofa, depositing his loot on the coffee table.

"This is my little brother, Nathan," Darby said, watching as the teen propped his feet up on the table and dug into a half of a submarine sandwich. "Nathan, this is Martin Thomas, my new student."

"Cool," was all he said. Darby rolled her eyes but Martin just laughed.

"Nice to meet you."

"Well, shall we leave the brat to his feast," Darby said with a grin, "and have a cup of coffee before we start our cla.s.s?"

"Wonderful." Martin followed her into her kitchen.

Spotting the basket of m.u.f.fins on the table, he said, "Oh, I see you were a step ahead of me." He leaned over and sniffed. "Mmmm. Blueberry. My favorite."

Darby opened the bakery box. "And you brought banana...my favorite."

"Well, then, I guess we both win," Martin said with a grin.

Darby made herself busy pouring coffee, hoping Martin didn't see how his tiny words of praise had affected her. She set the mugs on the table and gestured for him to sit. She was suddenly aware of how tiny her kitchen was because he seemed to be sitting so close.

"I like your apartment." He looked around at the cheerful kitchen painted in muted green and bordered in ivy. "You've made it very cozy."

"Thank you. I know it's not very big but it suits me."

"Tell me, do you work in other art mediums besides your computer art?"

"Yes. Acrylics, and clay."

"Would I have seen your work anywhere?" He sipped his coffee and gave her his full attention. His stare was making it hard for her to concentrate.

"Um, yes. There are a couple of my acrylics at the Griffith Gallery. I hope to have a one-woman show of my fractals there sometime in the next few years."

"Really. Good for you." Martin said. "Have you and the owner made plans for the exact date?"

Darby shook her head. "No." She reached for a napkin. "Actually, I haven't met the owner personally."

"I thought you had some work at the gallery," Martin said, adding cream to his cup.

"I do," Darby replied, "but I dealt with old Mr. Griffith, the current owner's grandfather. I was in a show at college, and this dear sweet old man was there. He bought my showpieces. I didn't know until later that he was the Griffith Gallery."

"You must have been thrilled." He took a sip of coffee.

"Oh, I was," she said. "I meant to thank him personally for his encouragement, but he pa.s.sed away shortly afterward, and I never got the chance."

"That's too bad." Martin picked up a m.u.f.fin and broke off a chunk. "So, what about the new owner? You said it's the old man's grandson?"

"Yes, he took over the gallery."

"And you haven't contacted him about the show?"

Darby stirred her coffee. "No. The show is my dream. I just haven't figured out yet how to convince Mr. Griffith to schedule one." She picked up a m.u.f.fin, tore the cap off and started nibbling the edges.

"This Mr. Griffith, is he a tough customer? Hard to approach?"

"I don't think so. If he's anything like his grandfather, then he's really nice. I guess I've just been avoiding it. I mean, what if he flat out said no?"

"But what if he said yes?" Martin carefully set his cup on the table.

Darby picked up both mugs and moved them to the sink. "I suppose you're right. Nothing ventured..."

"Nothing gained. Say, we never discussed fees for the cla.s.ses."

She thought for a moment. "Tell you what. Today's lesson is on the house. If you decide to continue it's twenty-five dollars an hour. Does that seem fair?"

"Absolutely. So, shall we start, ma'am?"

The afternoon flew by, and Darby was disappointed when Martin sat back in the computer chair and stretched his arms above his head.

"I think my brain is going to explode." He rubbed his temples.

Darby laughed. "We covered a lot of territory today." She stood and stretched her limbs as well, and was flattered to find Martin following her movements with his eyes. It made her feel warm all over. "Actually fractals look complicated, but if you start with the basic structure, you can create something really beautiful with ease."

"Maybe you can," Martin said, also standing to stretch, "but..." and here he turned and gazed into her eyes. "...I think I'm going to need many, many lessons to begin to understand all this stuff. I hope you can bear with me."

She smiled and returned his intent gaze. "I think I can manage."

They stood a moment, neither one speaking and yet saying volumes, then walked in silence from her office. Darby was intensely aware of his closeness. They entered the living room to find Nathan sprawled asleep on the sofa, the remnants of his attack on the fridge spread around him. The two adults laughed and moved toward the front door.

"I love my brother," she said with an affectionate glance to the sleeping boy, "but he is a slob."

"I think all teenage boys are," Martin said. "Goodness knows I was." He reached up and ran his hand down Darby's upper arm, sending a thrill through her body. "Thank you, Darby. It's been a lovely day."

Then he was gone, and Darby shivered in her now so cold and empty apartment.

THE NEXT FEW weeks flew by. Each Sunday and an occasional Wednesday evening were filled with Martin's lessons. A quick study, he was beginning to create some really interesting simple fractals of his own.

"You're doing great, Martin," Darby said one evening as the two sat hunkered over the computer screen. Their heads and shoulders were almost touching, and she could feel the heat of his body, and smell his spicy cologne. "This is one of your best so far. I like the glowing effect at the center, and the almost filament-like structures on the tips of the arms. It reminds me of a sea anemone."

"High praise, indeed," Martin said, giving her a grin. "You're a wonderful teacher. You've made this so easy, and it's fun..." His voice lowered in volume. "...especially with you."

Darby's breath caught in her throat. "I...." She stuttered and began picking imaginary lint off her sleeve. "Thank you. You're a good student. And I've had fun too."

The two sat not speaking for an electric moment.

Darby cleared her throat. "As much as I hate for the fun to end, I think you're ready to branch out on your own. There's really nothing more to teach you. You just need to practice and design on your own." Having said the words, she slumped back and looked down at her hands. She felt Martin stir and glanced up. He had a strange look on his face.

"If you really think so," he said.

"I can't take your money anymore. It wouldn't be honest."

Martin sat back and seemed to gather his thoughts.

"Darby, may I be frank?"

"Sure, I guess." She swallowed and braced herself for...what, she didn't know.

"I think you should put together a presentation of your fractal art and go see this Griffith guy."