“So you’ve never been in love?”
“I didn’t say that, did I?”
“So you have been in a relationship before, with just one woman?”
“Of course, but as I said, once my life became what it is today—the constant traveling—it’s hard to stay in love with that kind of guy. At least that’s what my ex told me when she started dating some accountant. You know, wears a suit, carries a briefcase, home every night by six—it’s what women seem to want.” He sighed, setting his coffee down and relaxing further into the couch. His words said he was okay with all this, but the wistful look on his face said otherwise.
“It’s not what all women want,” I countered.
“Correction, it’s what the women I have dated all wanted. At least until now. That’s why what I have works great for me. These women I spend my time with when I’m home? They’re great. They’re happy, I’m happy—why would I rock the boat?”
“Well, you’re already down to two now, and I think you’d feel differently if the right woman came along. The right woman for you wouldn’t want you to change anything about your life. She wouldn’t rock your boat, she’d jump right in and sail it with you.”
“You’re a romantic, aren’t you?” He leaned in, bumping my shoulder.
“I’m a practical romantic. I can actually see some appeal in having a guy who travels a lot, because, frankly? I like my space. I also take up the entire bed, so it’s difficult for me to sleep with anyone.” I shook my head ruefully, remembering how quickly I used to kick my one-nighters to the curb. Some of my past wasn’t all that different from Simon’s. He just had his sexcapades tied up in a much neater package.
“A practical romantic. Interesting. So what about you? Dating anyone?” he asked.
“Nope, and I’m okay with that.”
“Really?”
“Is it so hard to believe a hot, sexy woman with a great career doesn’t need a man to be happy?”
“First of all, bully for you for calling yourself hot and sexy—because it’s true. It’s nice to see a woman give herself a compliment instead of fishing for one. And second, I’m not talking about getting married here, I’m talking about dating. You know, hanging out? Casually?”
“Are you asking me if I’m f**king anyone right now?” I shot at him, and he spluttered into his coffee.
“Definitely the strangest conversation I’ve ever had with a woman,” he muttered.
“A hot and sexy woman,” I reminded him.
“That’s for damn sure. So, how about you? Ever been in love?”
“This feels like an ABC mini-series, with all the coffee and the love talk,” I said. I might have been stalling.
“Come on, let’s celebrate this moment in our lives.” He snorted, gesturing with his coffee mug.
“Have I ever been in love? Yes. Yes, I have.”
“And?”
“And nothing. It didn’t end in a very good way, but what ending is ever good? He changed, I changed, so I got out. That’s all.”
“You got out, like…”
“Nothing dramatic. He just wasn’t who I thought he was going to be,” I explained, setting my coffee down and playing with my hair.
“So what happened?”
“Oh, you know how it goes. We were together when I was a senior at Berkley, and he was finishing up law school. It started out great, and then it wasn’t, and so I left. He did teach me how to rock climb, so I’m grateful for that.”
“A lawyer, huh?”
“Yep, and he wanted a little lawyer wife. I should have caught on when he referred to my future career plans as a ‘little decorating business.’ He really just wanted someone who looked good and picked up his shirts from the cleaners on time. Not for me.”
“I don’t know you that well yet, but I can’t really see you in the suburbs somewhere.”
“Ugh, me either. Nothing wrong with the ’burbs, just not for me.”
“You can’t move to the ’burbs. Who would bake for me?”
“Pfft, you just want to see me in my apron.”
“You have no idea,” he said, winking.
“It’s hard to get everything you need from one person. You know what I mean? Wait, of course you do. What was I thinking?” I laughed, gesturing to him.
We both jumped at the knocking on my door across the hall. The maintenance guy had finally arrived.
“Thanks for the coffee, and the shower, and the pipe rescue,” I said, stretching as I walked toward the door. I nodded at the guy in the hallway and held up one finger to let him know I’d be right there.
“No problem. It wasn’t the nicest way to wake up, but I suppose I deserved that one.”
“Indeed. But thank you anyway.”
“You’re welcome, and thanks for the bread. It was great. And if another loaf happens to make its way over here, that would be okay.”
“I’ll see what I can do. And hey, where’s my sweater?”
“Do you know how expensive those are?”
“Pffft, I want my sweater!” I cried, slapping him in the chest.
“Well, as it happens, I did bring you something—a sort of thanks-for-kicking-my-door present.”
“I knew it. You can drop it off later.” I walked across the hall to let the guy in. I directed him toward the kitchen and turned back to Simon. “Friends, huh?”
“Looks that way.”
“I can live with that.” I smiled and closed the door.
As the maintenance guy went about fixing the problem, I wandered to my bedroom to check on Clive. Just as I entered, my phone buzzed. A text from Simon already? I grinned and flopped down on the bed, snuggling a still-freaked-out kitty to my side. He began to purr instantly.
You never answered my question…
I felt my skin heat up as I realized what he was referring to. I was suddenly warm and a little tingly, like when your foot falls asleep, but all over. And in a good way. Damn, he gave great text.
About whether I’m f**king anyone?
Jesus, you’re crass. But yes, friends can ask that, can’t they?
Yes they can.
So?
You’re kind of a pain in the ass. You know this, right?
Tell me. Don’t get shy on me now.
As it happens, no. I’m not.
“I know this guy—makes the best noodles ever, right on a houseboat in the middle of Ha Long Bay. One slurp and you’ll throw your peanut butter right over the side.”
“God, I wish I could travel like you do. Do you ever get sick of it?” I asked.
“Hmmm, yes and no. It’s always great to come home. I love San Francisco. But if I’m home too long I get the itch to get back out on the road. And no comments about the itch—I’m starting to get to know your mind there, Nightie Girl.” He patted my arm affectionately.
I tried to feign offense, but the truth was I had been about to make a joke. I noticed he still had his hand on my arm, absentmindedly tracing tiny circles with his fingertips. Had it really been so long since I’d let a man touch me that fingertip circles sent me into a mental tizzy? Or was it that this man was doing it? Oh, God, the fingertips. Either way, it was doing things to me. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine O waving at me—still far away, but not as far as she’d been before.
I glanced at Simon and saw that he was watching his hand, as if curious about his fingers on my skin. I breathed in quickly, and my intake of breath drew his eyes to mine. We watched each other. Lower Caroline was, of course, responding, but now Heart began to beat a little wildly as well.