If the Stick Turns Pink.... Carla Cassidy

became aware of a soft floral scent in the air, and he leaned back in the seat and looked around, attempting to identify the source.

      It was too late in the year for the lilacs to be in bloom and too early for the roses or for honeysuckle. “What a mess,” he finally said.

      She nodded. “I can’t believe how guilty I feel.” She shifted positions and again the light floral scent teased his senses.

      He suddenly realized the pleasant fragrance was coming from her. He frowned thoughtfully. Had she always smelled so good? He couldn’t remember ever paying much attention before, and for some reason he found it vaguely disturbing.