Rose grinned at Rowan, her eyes drinking in the perfectly sculpted, tanned body. He was dangerously beautiful and overwhelming for someone who had yet to face their own sexuality. He had played his role perfectly and now it was another’s turn.

Ivy leaned against the wrought iron fence at the bottom of the stairs to one of The Garden’s front doors. He was long, lean, with dark hair that hung over one of his soft blue eyes. Artfully rumpled and seemingly harmless.

The door opened and a young man, flushed and disturbed, stumbled out. He gulped the cool evening air and ran shaking fingers through his hair. Ivy sighed and smiled ruefully, trust Mother to know…she always knew… The man stumbled down the steps and Ivy caught him before he fell, “Watch your step.”

“Oh…I…uh…” the man stuttered and seemed to be staring at Ivy’s hands. “Thank you,” he was finally able to mumble.

“Have a good time?”

“Oh, no…I didn’t…”

Ivy smiled, “Why don’t we go have a drink and you can tell me about it.”