"It's okay. You can barely see it anymore."
"Oh."
He didn't know at exactly what point in the conversation they had started whispering. It was silly, really, but somehow the topic, the setting, and the mood called for soft, confidential voices.
They simultaneously realized that their eyes seemed locked to each other and that he was still stroking her palm. Guiltily she pulled her hand from his grasp, though he was reluctant to let it go. Taking his cue from her, he resumed eating, but his appetite for food had deserted him, to be replaced by hunger for her.
The only sounds in the silent house were those of the rain pelting the windows and of cutlery against their plates. However, if sexual awareness and suppressed longings were capable of generating sound, the noise would have been as blaring as a brass band.
"More pizza?" she asked.
"No thanks."
"Salad?"
He shook his head. As she cleared the dishes from the table, he refilled both their wineglasses. When she returned to the table, he noticed their reflections in the window glass. It was a portrait of intimacy, a man and a woman sharing a candlelight dinner. Devon noticed it too.
"Appearances can be deceiving."
"Yes," she answered softly.
After a moment he said, "Devon, I'm going to shoot straight with you. You don't know me very well, but I assure you that shooting straight is not something I usually do with a woman."
"I don't find that at all hard to believe." She was smiling as she raised her wineglass to her lips.
"No, I guess not," he said ruefully. Leaning back in his chair, he contemplated the candle's flame through the ruby contents of his wineglass. "There's this girl in Milton Point that I've been seeing for a couple of months."
"Rest assured that I don't intend to make trouble between you and your girlfriend."
"That's not what this is about," he said crossly.
"Then why bring it up?"
"Because you need to know about her."
"What makes you think I'm interested in your romances?"
"This isn't about romance. Just hear me out, okay? Then you'll get your turn." She gave him a small nod of concession. "This girl's daddy is a big shot at the bank that's holding a loan on my business."
"Is that why you were dating her?"
He got the impression that she would be disappointed if he said yes. "No. I started seeing Susan because she was one of the few available women in town that I hadn't been to bed with yet."
She cast her eyes downward. "I see."
"I told you I was going to shoot straight, Devon."
"And I appreciate your honesty," she replied huskily. "Go on."
"Susan is spoiled rotten. Accustomed to winding her daddy and everybody else around her little finger. Selfish. Self-centered." He could go on and on, but felt that he had captured the essence of Susan's personality and didn't want to be accused of overkill.
"Anyway, she's made up her mind that she wants to be Mrs. Lucky Tyler."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "My sister says because it would distinguish her."
"That's considered a distinction in Milton Point?"