Free Conflicts of the Heart by Julie Michele Gettys

old times,” slightly off key. Thank the Lord she chose her sexiest black dress for this meeting. When Joel caught a glimpse of her long, slim legs, her pushed-up cleavage and her new look, he’d bust a gut. Maybe he'd even be sorry he chose the “Golden Girl” over her.
    Driving up the winding road, she marveled at the splendid houses lining this sumptuous neighborhood. This had been her dream, living in this grand style. Through the dusky light of the evening, she could see the manicured golf course, the centerpiece of this palatial neighborhood.
    THE CLAIBORNES in wrought iron loomed above her. She pulled up in front of the most sensational house she’d ever seen, nestled in a forest of oaks and pines. This modern-day wooden palace had to be worth a fortune. If Joel could afford this house, why was Dana living in poverty? Something didn’t smell right.
    Joel stood waiting on the vine-covered veranda. As she approached him, she noticed he changed considerably. He’d gained weight and his eyes were on the puffy side, as if maybe he drank a bit more than he should have. In spite of the changes, he was still a shark, in a more mature way. A touch of gray lightened his temples and sparkling black eyes revealed his interest in her new appearance. She could see the strong resemblance between him and Michael.
    “Who are you?” Joel asked in a lascivious tone. “I'd never have recognized you on the street.”
    Her confidence soared. She sashayed up those deep redwood steps to meet Joel's open arms just like in an old movie when two long-lost friends reunited, hugged and squeezed each other and gushed over how great they looked.
    “Come on in.” He took her by the elbow, guiding her into the grand room.
    “Beautiful.”
    “You certainly are.”
    “I mean the house.” She could see Dana everywhere, in the artwork on every wall, the Early American furnishings she always loved. The beamed cathedral ceiling soared high above Teal. Why hadn’t she taken this stuff with her instead of living in that hovel with all that ratty furniture? Her balloon burst as she glanced around and her guilt returned, washing over her like a tsunami. More than anything, she wanted to turn and run, but Joel, obviously sensing her discomfort, grabbed her arm and drew her to him.
    “Let's go out and eat. Better we talk on neutral ground.” He yanked his tweed jacket from the back of a chair, threw it over his shoulder, and took her by the hand. “I know a great little Mexican place not far from here. We'll have a few margaritas, and you can fill me in on what you've been up to.”
    Joel asked to drive her car. M en always wanted to sit behind the wheel of her classic Corvette. On the way to the restaurant, she sat in silence, thinking what a different person he was from the man she remembered. She couldn't picture this Joel and Dana together. When they were young, they seemed a perfect match. A real-life Ken and Barbie, but now… Dana should be with someone like Patrick Mitchell, youthful, outgoing, a snappy dresser.
    Joel turned on the radio and let his hand fall on her knee. She must let go of all guilt. She came here for a reason and she had to wait for the right time.
    “You're too tense.” Joel smiled and tapped her thigh. She flinched.
    “Do I make you that nervous?”
    “Yeah, you do.” She giggled. “Seems strange, you and me driving along in my car, going out to dinner without Dana.”
    On Page Mill Road, Joel downshifted, burning rubber. He showed off like a schoolboy.
    “Those are new tires, honey. Handle with care.”
    “Here we are.” Joel nosed into a handicapped space in front of the adobe-style Mexican restaurant.
    “This is a handicapped spot.”
    He stared at her in an odd way. “So? I have a handicapped son.” He laughed, slapped her knee, and got out. “Don't get serious on me.”
    Inside the small, quaint, crowded restaurant, she relaxed once she had a drink. Colorful handcrafted serapes graced the walls,