Conor told himself not to think about the deception.
There was no reason to think about it. He could protect Miranda and love her at the same time. He didn't have to let his thoughts revolve around what a conniving bastard he was. As for learning about her past... she was more than willing to talk about herself, and he loved to listen.
It was easy to let himself think they were like any other couple, exploring the city while spring overtook the grey canyons. They did the things lovers do, strolling through the South Street Seaport, riding the elevator to the top of the Empire State Building, dining on pushcart hot dogs or in pricey restaurants as the spirit moved them.
Early one evening, they sat at a table at a rooftop bar, she sipping a glass of white wine and he drinking an ale, with the city far below.
"We could have dinner here," Conor said.
"Or?"
He smiled. "How'd you know there was an or?"
Miranda grinned, put her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands.
"Innate genius," she said. "So, what's the or?"
"We could go to this place I know in Chinatown."
"That sounds good. I like Chinese food."
"Szechuan?"
"Is it really, really hot?"
"Guaranteed to make your eyes water and your ears turn red."
"In that case, what are we waiting for?"
"You had me worried there, Beckman. That was a test and for a couple of seconds, I wasn't sure you were going to pass."
"And?" She smiled. "If I hadn't?"
"If you'd turned up your nose at Szechuan, you mean?" He shook his head. "I guess I'd have been forced into rethinking this whole arrangement."
Miranda looked at him over the rim of the glass, her smile suddenly soft and vulnerable.
"Is that what we have?" she asked. "An arrangement?"
It was such a cool, businesslike term but the way she said it and the way she looked at him, made it anything but cool or businesslike.
"Yeah," he said gruffly, and reached for her hand, "I think we do. Is that okay with you?"
Her eyes glowed.
"It's wonderful with me," she said.
Conor leaned across the table and kissed her.
* * *
They took a taxi to the restaurant. Conor asked for a corner booth and ordered for both of them.
It had always bothered her, the easy way some men had of taking over as if the female of the species were incapable of making decisions, but it was different with Conor. He made her feel safe in a way she never had before, not just from physical danger but from the things she'd feared for as long as she could remember.
Love and desire, and, most of all, trust.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, she awakened in his arms and wondered how such a miracle could have happened. Nita had once called her a cynic where men were concerned, but she wasn't, she was just a pragmatist and anyway, despite their closeness, there were things about her Nita didn't know, things she'd never told anyone, not even Jean-Phillipe.