“You did?” He wore that boyish look, the one that made her think of Trev.
“Yes. I thought how you couldn’t be looking at me. And then I thought how familiar you looked, that I must have met you before….”
“Of course I was looking at you,” he said it with a definite note of reproach. “But you were very busy reminding yourself that you were through with men.”
“I was. I admit it. How dumb was that?”
“It’s all right. Now that you’ve told me why you gave up men, I thoroughly understand. And I’m not complaining. If you hadn’t decided to stay away from the male sex, you might have found someone else by now and I wouldn’t have a chance with you.”
“And that would have been a tragedy,” she teased.
“Yes, it would. A true catastrophe. But you did give up men. Now all I have to do is convince you to give one more man a chance.” He raised his glass again. She clinked hers against it. “Are you ready for the first course?”
Suddenly, she was starving. “I am, yes.”
He cast a glance beyond the open curtain. That was all. Just a glance. The waiter appeared again and made straight for their table.
Two hours later, Rule walked her out to the valet stand and had her car brought around. He tipped the valet generously and then took her hand and led her away from her waiting Mercedes. “Just for a moment …”
She went with him, down the sloping front entrance, to a shadowed area next to a large brick planter thick with greenery, beneath a beautiful old oak. The spring night felt warm and close around them.
He turned to face her. His eyes gleamed like polished stones through the darkness and his fingers trailed up her bare arm, a long, slow, dancing caress that left her strangely weak and slightly breathless. “Sydney …” He clasped her shoulders, and then framed her face between both wonderful hands. “Sydney O’Shea. I was becoming frightened.”
His words confused her. She scanned his shadowed features. “But why?”
“That I would never find you. Never meet you …”
“Oh. That.” She felt a glad smile curve her lips.
“Yes. That.” His sweet breath stirred the loose curls at her temples as he bent his head closer to her.
A kiss. His kiss. Their first kiss. She tipped her face up to him, offering her mouth.
He held her eyes as he lowered his lips to hers.
Warm. Soft. Easy …
Her eyes drifted shut as his mouth touched hers, lightly, cherishingly. And she trembled, the moment was so exactly as she’d imagined it might be during their lunch that afternoon, during the long, glorious meal just past.
“Sydney …” He whispered her name against her mouth and she opened for him.
Instantly, she wanted more, wanted to be closer. Had to be closer.
Surging up, she wrapped her arms around him. A tiny, hungry cry escaped her at the sheer glory of such a perfect moment.
He took her cue and deepened the kiss, gathering her into him, cradling her against his body, so that she felt his warmth and solidness all along the length of her. He tasted of coffee and the heavenly pistachio mascarpone cake they’d shared for dessert. And the way he kissed her, the way his warm, rough-tender tongue caressed her … oh, there was nothing, ever, in her experience, to compare to it.
Nothing to compare.
To his kiss …
She wished it would never end.
But of course, it had to end. He took her shoulders again and reluctantly lifted his mouth from hers.
“Tomorrow,” he said, gazing down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded, holding her a willing captive with his light touch at her shoulders, with his tender glance.
“Yes,” she vowed, though she didn’t even know yet what he planned for tomorrow.
He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, and then up to her temple, causing those lovely shivers to course across her skin. “In the morning? I could come and collect you and your little boy. We could … visit a park, maybe. A park with swings and slides, so he’ll have a chance to play. My little niece and nephew love nothing so much as a few hours in the sunshine, with a sandbox and a slide.”
“You didn’t tell me you had a niece and a nephew.”
He nodded. “My older brother, Max, has two children—say yes to tomorrow.”
“But I already did, didn’t I?”
“Say it again.”
“Yes—and why don’t you come for breakfast first? You can meet my best friend, Lani, who has a degree in English literature, is a fabulous cook and takes care of Trevor while I’m at work.”
“I would love breakfast. And to meet your friend, Lani.”
“I have to warn you. Breakfast comes early at my house.”
“Early it is.”
“Seven-thirty, then.” She took his hand, automatically threading her fingers with his, feeling the thrill of touching him—and also a certain rightness. Her hand fit perfectly in his. “Come on.” She pulled him back toward her car. “I’ll give you my address and phone number.”
“Where’s Michael?” Sydney asked, when she let herself in the house at quarter of eleven and found Lani sitting on the sofa alone, wearing Tweety Bird flannel pajama bottoms and a yellow cami top.
“How was the big date?” Lani asked, with a too-bright smile.
Sydney slipped off her red shoes and dropped to the sofa beside her friend. “It was better than … anything. Wonderful. I’m crazy about him. He’s coming for breakfast at seven-thirty.”
“Good. I can check him out. See if he’s good enough for you.”
“He’s good enough. You’ll see. I thought maybe one of your fabulous frittatas …”
“You got it.” Lani took off her glasses and set them on the side table.
“Hey.” Sydney waited until her friend looked at her again. Then she guided a thick swatch of Lani’s dark, curly hair behind her ear. “You didn’t answer my question about Michael.”
Lani’s big eyes were a little sad, and her full mouth curved slightly down. “Tonight, when I watched you getting ready to meet this new guy, putting on your makeup, fixing your hair, waffling over that perfect red dress …”
“Yeah? Tonight, what?”
“I thought, ‘That. What Syd’s feeling. I want that.’“
“Oh, sweetheart …”
Lani’s shoulders drooped. “And then you left and Michael came over and I thought what a nice guy he is … but I couldn’t go on with him. Because he’s not the guy.” She laughed a little, shaking her head. “Do you know what I mean?”
Sydney reached out. Lani sagged against her and they held each other. “Yeah,” Sydney whispered into her friend’s thick, fragrant hair. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”
The next morning, the doorbell rang at seven-thirty on the nose.
“I get it!” Trevor fisted his plump hand and tapped the table twice. “Knock, knock!” he shouted. “Who’s there?”
Sydney kissed his milk-smeared cheek. “Eat your cereal, Bosco.”
“Banana!” Trev