“Why?”
“I enjoy being with you and want to spend time with you.”
She enjoyed being with him, too. Naked, no problem. That was easy to categorize into just sex. But spending time with Lucas with her clothes on? That wasn’t so easy to justify away from work.
“I’d like to take you to this little French bistro off Broadway. They have this fresh-baked bread that just melts in your mouth.”
“And straight onto my hips.”
“Your hips are perfect, Emily.”
His compliment came out as sincere and not one meant to puff her up. She liked that. Liked that he sounded as if he truly believed what he said.
“But they won’t be if I indulge in fresh-baked bread,” she pointed out, trying not to get too elated that he’d said her hips were perfect. He made her feel perfect. When he looked at her, touched her, with such awe, how could she not?
He’d always done that in the beginning, made her feel good about herself, made her feel as if she was the only woman in the world and the center of his existence.
“I promise to make you burn every single carbohydrate before the sun comes up.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know what will be coming up before the sun.”
He grinned. “You know me so well.”
Yes, she did. And yet she didn’t. Not anymore. He’d changed in the years they’d been apart. He was more mature, more stable these days, more caring and aware of others around him. Then again, he was five years older, a man in his thirties. Of course he’d matured.
“Does that mean you’ll give me the privilege of taking you to a late dinner for two?”
She sighed, then nodded. It wasn’t as if she could say no. Even if she could, all she’d do was think about him and hope he showed at her apartment. What would be the point of saying no? “But only if you promise to make me enjoy every second of carb-burning.”
His grin was lethal. “Was there ever any doubt?”
No, that, Emily never doubted.
* * *
Emily’s menu hadn’t had prices, but she didn’t need dollar signs to know she was in a restaurant way out of her price ballpark. Part of her wanted to question Lucas about wasting so much money on taking her to eat at such a place when she’d have enjoyed grabbing a pretzel dog and walking around Times Square to people watch just as much.
Well, almost as much.
She had to admit the cozy candlelit booth with just the two of them was nice. Perhaps a bit too over-the-top romantic for a divorced
couple. Then again, most divorced couples weren’t having hot sex every night, either.
Or maybe they were. What did she know about such things other than that Lucas got to her physically as much as he ever did? The absence of the golden band he’d slipped onto her finger so long ago hadn’t changed that one bit.
Not really.
“You got quiet. Should I be worried?”
“I was thinking about when you put my wedding band on my finger.” Automatically, her thumb brushed across the empty spot. She’d never been much of a jewelry person, and these days she chose not to wear any rings unless it was a fun, chunky costume piece that complemented whatever she was wearing.
His expression tightened. “What about it?”
She shrugged. “Not really anything specific. I was just thinking about you doing so.”
“Do you still have your rings, Emily?”
Wondering if she should admit such craziness, she nodded. “I thought about selling them, but there just seemed something weird about doing so. I guess keeping them is just as weird.”