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a certain amount of acceptable distance.  He waited to hear her voice begin again.  She changed tones as she shared intimate moments about her life.
    “I remember how excited I’d get when the first flakes really started to fall.  Often I’d sit by the windows.  You know how the windows fog up when it’s so cold outside and really warm inside?  Well, I’d take my hand and wipe the fog away and just watch it cover everything, millions of flakes at a time,” she reminisced.  “The cold air from the window pane was in sharp contrast to the heat coming up from the furnace in the basement, and I’d press my nose against the chilly glass.”  Lynette paused, looking down for just a second at her beautifully manicured nails and small hands.   “You know, I’ve had the condo a number of months, but I’ve never been here when it was actually snowing,” she remarked, as if she’d missed something really precious.
    “Maybe you need to be here when snow comes down on you this winter,” he suggested, with more meaning conveyed in those words, she was sure.  He had a way of saying things.  He was clearly forward in his approach, but he restricted his advances toward her to times, and tones, when only she could receive them.  She was not in any way uncomfortable with his impetus, in fact, she liked what he did and the way he did it.  Nodding in agreement, she was filled with what she thought the words meant.  Hesitating before continuing, she became keenly aware of the sensation in the lower part of her body.
     
    “I understand that the December Torchlight Parade down the slopes of Sierra Asombroso is awesome.  Do you go watch it?” she asked as innocently as she could, assured that she concealed the arousal deep in her stomach.
    “No, I don’t.  I ski it,” he said with a huge smile.  “I’ll be one of those skiers carrying the red flares slowly down the mountainside.  It’s a lot of fun,” he added. “Do you ski?” he inquired.
    “Oh heavens no,” she answered with a laugh.  “The last time I tried was in Japan, and I wound up head first in the snow with my skis crossed up in the air, like you see in cartoons.  They had to dig me out.  My children still tell that story, and of course it gets worse and more comical, as the years go by,” Lynette chuckled.
    “What about you?” Lynette asked.  “You must have been born during the winter with a name like that.”
    “I was.  I was born in November.  I’m told that a new snow had just begun to fall.  You know the rest,” he said, taking nothing for granted but aware that she was obviously educated and familiar with Native traditions.  Blaze didn’t talk more than he had to.  Lynette was so aware that much of their short time together he was watching, listening, feeling her in a concentrated manner.  She could put no words to the sensation, but knew that he was drawing closer to her, and she to him in a strange but fascinating way.
     
    At that moment an insect touched down on her hair, just above her forehead.  Blaze reached up and brushed the bug away, but he didn’t flick at it.  He allowed his cupped hand to brush her temple and he rubbed the side of her face softly – oh so softly.  A bolt of electricity shot through her body all the way to her toes, and she closed her eyes, relishing his gentle touch.  When she opened her eyes, his face was close to hers.   He was smiling at her, knowing that she had enjoyed his touch.  It was an intimate touch.  A daring touch with meaning.  He felt pleasure himself, in the way she accepted the warmth of his fingertips.  They had danced with his arm securely around her waist, but this was a different touch, a telling touch.  Lynette hadn’t been this aroused by a man in a long, long time.  Again the sensation was extremely pleasant, yet disquieting.
     
    A strange sense of fear kept trying to push its way out of her subconscious and into her conscious awareness.