I finished that two miles in nineteen twenty. Not bad for a thirty-five-year-old guy who just started running again a year ago. I had been a hotshot five-kilometer runner in high school, got a track scholarship to Ohio State, got into beer and broads in my junior year, and, well, the rest is history.

Then, in a routine checkup three years ago, there was an irregularity in the heartbeat. Nothing to panic about, but the cardiologist made it pretty clear that high living with no exercise was out from here on in. Listen, I travel. My job is with a high-level HR agency.

That exam jerked me into reality. I joined a fitness club, started on the treadmill, and then took to the roads. Within one year, I was back in shape. I stay that way out of pure fear. Now I run regularly, on the roads when I can, at school tracks when I don’t know the roads in a city.

So, here I am at my old alma mater, Ohio State. It is September, the weather has cooled, the sun is out, and I just did a later-in-life personal record for a two-mile run. I’m an easy five foot eleven, and my weight is down to one seventy-five dripping wet—which I am right now. Doctor says stay there, so I do.

I was trotting around the track to warm down when I felt footsteps behind me. I was on the inside so it was easy to pass me. The footsteps got closer, and suddenly there was a figure beside me. A woman. Almost my height. She blew by me, and I got a look at a rather sensational ass and a pair of great long legs as she pounded around the turn. I was walking by now, admiring the view, no more. I really did not have enough gas in the tank to catch her, and I didn’t want to look like a schmuck and pull alongside too winded to talk.

I had trotted over to the stands where my gym bag was parked when I heard the footsteps behind me, but slowing down. I glanced back, and it was her. She pulled to a stop and smiled at me. Blonde hair in a ponytail. Really nice build. Breasts large enough to display some cleavage in the front of her jersey. Long, tan legs, nicely molded arms. Chick works out.

I looked at her face, and I was, frankly, startled. This was no kid. She was older than me, but I couldn’t tell by how much. Face was still taut, and still gorgeous. I could see lines on the cheeks and even a few wrinkles in the neck. But the eyes, man… I cannot even describe them. They were deep pools of an almost cat’s-eye green.

And when I say deep, I mean looking into them I felt as if they were pulling me in, or maybe I was fantasizing, diving right into a pair of eyes?

“Andy Finesilver, right?” The voice was deep and well modulated. Again, not a young voice but not really like old either.

“Umm…yes…do I know you? Please say yes.”

She threw back her head and laughed, a full-throated roar, well beyond what I expected. She shook her head, and the ponytail whipped around her neck. “No, Andy—not yet—but I know you.”

I was staring at this incredible older woman, well, older than me I thought. And she knew me?

“Don’t look so startled. I know you graduated from Ohio State, but you were no longer on a track team scholarship, right? I nodded. “But…”

She came right up to me and put one cool hand on my shoulder. “Don’t sweat it. It’s really pretty simple. You going to be in Columbus long?”

“Well, no, I mean I have to leave tomorrow afternoon, matter of fact.”

“Then,” she said, stepping back a bit and putting her hands on those great hips, “why not have dinner with me tonight?”

I had to sit down on the first row of the stands. “Look,” I said, shaking my head, “you say you know me, but I don’t understand…”

“You’re staying at the Westin on High Street, right?

“Well, yes, but…”

“No buts. Be in the lobby at seven. Dress nice. I want to show you off.”

This might have been the weirdest thing that ever happened to me. She took off, and I watched those long strides around the track one more time, and without slowing down, she went out the ramp to the parking lot.

I jumped up, slung my gym bag over my shoulder, and bolted for the ramp. I could not have been more than thirty seconds behind her, but when I came up the ramp, she was just gone. Man, just what was all this about?

So, I went back to the hotel, did some e-mails, checked in at the office by phone, and took a nap. Why not? I woke up as the sun was setting about six fifteen. I took a really long shower wondering about my mystery woman. Who the hell was she? Why did she seem to know so much about me, even my hotel? And she even knew something about my past. Could she have been a detective? But for what? I just don’t think I’m that big a deal.

Finally I decided tonight would tell. I put on a long-sleeved light blue sports shirt with collar. I added a light sweater and some dark blue pants, and I was as ready as I would ever be for what was ahead.

I went down to the lobby and stood outside the front entrance chatting with the doorman. Suddenly a light blue BMW convertible with the top down roared around the corner and pulled to a stop right in front of us. She was dressed in something pale pink with a long pale pink scarf wrapped around her neck and shoulders. The blonde hair was long and fell around her shoulders in waves. I have no idea how it stayed in place in an open convertible.

Blue eyes looked over at me. “C’mon, Finesilver. Let’s go,” she called in her deep voice. “I’m famished.”

I jumped in the passenger side, and without another word, we took off. We were flying down a road alongside the Olentangy River headed north out of town. Not a word. Not that it would have been easy at that speed and the air whipping by. I glanced over. She was driving with two hands relaxed on the steering wheel. She wore a thin gold bracelet on her left wrist, no rings.

Her profile was distinct. She had a solid jaw, which was clearly outlined. Her lips were a bit thick and voluptuous. She had them slightly parted in a half smile. It was hard to tell what she was wearing. The scarf covered almost all of her upper body. The dress she was wearing came to slightly below the knees and was pulled up enough for me to see that she wore no stockings and her legs looked as good as they had on the track.

We pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant along the river. She pulled up to the door, and the valet was there before I could get out of the car. When we got through the door, she suddenly turned to me. The eyes, the freaking eyes. And a smile to go with them.

“The patio on the river is gorgeous. Outside okay?”

I could barely nod. “Oh? Yeah, I mean fine.”

The maître d’ came over and, with one look at this lady, was all smiles. Shit. I didn’t even know her fucking name. What was wrong with me? He walked us outside some large glass doors to a lovely patio with Japanese lanterns strung on wires as lighting. He led us to a table overlooking the water, produced two huge menus, and left.

I took a deep breath and leaned over the table. “Look,” I said, looking directly into those eyes. “I like mysteries as much as the next guy, but I don’t even know your name.”

She did not answer me at once. Instead, she slowly took the long pink scarf from around her shoulders and slowly folded it over the back of the chair. Oh God. The dress had two thin straps on her shoulders, which were tan and well formed. I love a woman with well-formed deltoids, and she had them.

The dress literally dove between her breasts. I could see her chest almost to her breastbone. I really did not believe there could have been a bra built into the dress the way it hung on her. The breasts were full, and I could have sworn I could see just the outline of a nipple, but that could have been projection on my part.

“My name? Andy, you don’t know?”

“You told me that you know me but that I didn’t know you. How would I know your name?”

She looked back at me with a slight smile, her eyes a bit heavy-lidded. “My name, right?” I nodded. “Call me Savanna.”