"Next time," he said and cut into his steak.

They lingered over the meal until twilight. She'd forgotten what it was

like to talk about unimportant things, to laugh over dinner with music

in the background and a candle flickering. The dog, sated with half of

Emma's steak, snored by her feet. Nerves, strung tight for months,

smoothed out.

He could see the change. It was a gradual, almost a muscle-bymuscle

relaxation. She never spoke of her marriage, or the separation. He

found it odd. He had friends, both male and female, who had gone

through divorces. During the process, and long afterward, it had been

their favorite topic of conversation.

When Rosemary Clooney's seductive voice drifted from the radio, he rose

and pulled Emma to her feet. "The old ones are the best to dance to,"

he said when she took a step in retreat.

"I really don't-"

"And it'd give Mrs. Petrowski such a thrill." Gently, he drew her

closer, forcing himself to keep the embrace friendly and undemanding.

Emma moved with him automatically as Clooney crooned out "Tenderly."

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on staying relaxed, on ignoring the

emotions that were creeping into her. She didn't want to feel anything,

unless it was peace.

There was only a flutter of a breeze now as they danced across the

gra.s.s. The shadows were long. When she opened her eyes on a long,

careful breath, she could see the sky in the west glowing in sunset.

"When I was waiting for you to come, I figured out that we've known each

other about eighteen years." He brushed a finger over the back of her

hand. She didn't jerk away this time, but there was a moment of

stillness. "Eighteen years," he repeated. "Even though I can count the

days I've spent with you on one hand."

"You didn't pay any attention to me the first time we met." She forgot

to be nervous when she smiled up at him. "You were too busy being

dazzled by Devastation."

"Eleven-year-old boys can't notice girls. Those particular optic nerves

don't develop until the age of thirteen, twelve in some precocious

cases."

Chuckling, she didn't object when he brought her a few inches closer. "I

read that somewhere. It's fully developed when the young male

antic.i.p.ates the arrival of Sports Ill.u.s.trated's swimsuit issue as much

as he antic.i.p.ates the football preview." When Michael grinned, she

lifted a brow. "It was your loss. I had quite a crush on you."

"Did you?" He skimmed his fingers up her back to toy with the ends of

her hair.

"Absolutely. Your father had told me about how you'd roller-skated off

the root I wanted to ask you how it felt."

"Before or after I regained consciousness?"

"In flight."

"I guess I was up for about three seconds. It was the best three

seconds of my life."

It was exactly what she'd hoped he'd say. "Do your parents still live

in that same house?"