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Dinner was roasted veal with tomato, delicately seasoned potatoes and other root vegetables, long and perfect spears of steamed asparagus and dark bread that came warm and fresh to the table on a wooden board with a small bowl of fresh creamery butter.

Connor said, “I am glad you are not one of those women who picks at everything and eats nothing.”

Sandra had long ago stopped worrying that she would make a dinner companion notice that she was not model-thin by actually eating the food on her plate. She liked her body, its curves, and its flaws and if the person across from her thought that she should eat less that was their problem and she said so.

That response elicited a grin from him and his hand covered hers for a moment. The candle light’s glow outlined the curve of his cheek, put more gold into his unruly hair and darkened his eyes. Sandra found it hard to tear her eyes away from his visage.

“What made you want to be a writer?”

“Everything,” he responded promptly to her query. “I wrote notes and letters and poems before I even realized why it was so important for me to do it. I wrote horror stories as a teenager, positive that I was going to be the next Stephen King but then I realized I was not that scary.

“It was my wife who really helped me find my niche. She was my best editor, my biggest fan and my most fierce champion.”

His face softened as he spoke. Sandra knew the story, almost everyone did. Still, it was obvious he still remembered his wife fondly and with good reason. ”I’m sorry for your loss.”

Connor stared down at the succulent meat on his plate. “It doesn’t hurt any more, if that is what you are afraid of. I sometimes wonder what might have happened, or wish we had had children, or wonder if she knew I loved her there at the end when she was quite literally out of her mind with the pain.”

He continued, “I do miss her upon occasion and there are even times when I think life is one fucked up bastard but on the other side of that there had been a lot of living on my part since then. And I think she would have wanted it that way. She was never a selfish woman.”

Why had he said all of that? He was not sure. It was not like him to open up, most women tried to use their sympathy as a way to get into his heart, Sandra had simply said she was sorry and then clammed up. For years he had wished people would do that very thing, how had he not realized that their talking saved him from having to speak?

Slightly embarrassed by his effusiveness he said, “Tell me about you. Have you ever been married?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Oh I just…”she made a helpless gesture with one hand as she tried to think of something to say. “I never met anyone I meshed with. That is a lie. I dated three perfectly nice and stable men who would have made good husbands. We would have had nice calm little lives and raised kids that would likely have hated us for being so bland but we would have been too busy congratulating ourselves on our nice sedate little world, and all of its order to notice. In a way that is exactly what I wanted because…well because that is how I am used to living.”

She took a moment as she collected her thoughts.

“Everything in its place and a place for everything sums me up. But nothing about that seems to fit. That is not true: kids, and love, and a home for all of us does, but there is something missing; was something missing. I know that makes me sound like I am greedy or dissatisfied or high maintenance or…something.”

“Not at all. It makes you sound like a woman who wants more than what everyone thinks she should settle for.”

“Or my mother.” The words left her mouth before she could stop them.

“What about her?”

“She is…capricious is my father’s word and it suits her perfectly. Raine Madigan is her name, her maiden name anyway—she has been married five, or maybe six, times now. She is a gorgeous creature who gets bored before she even gets halfway through a door of a party. At least that is how one of her friends described her once. She got bored with me almost before I was born and my father probably a lot sooner. She left and has never come back.”

“I am sorry to hear that. You know, I think we need to have a pitiful me party—let’s order four desserts, another bottle of wine and see what gets us drunk faster; sugar or alcohol.”

She laughed because she could not help it. “You are being absurd.”

“Not at all.” He waved their waiter over and asked for the dessert cart to be brought over and a dessert wine list as well. The waiter practically rubbed his hands together as he ran off to get the requested items.

That was how they wound up sitting for three hours over dinner, or more precisely dessert. Connor fed her small bites of sweet and flaky apple tarte-tatin, decadent crème brulee, and spectacular cherry clafoutis. Nobody had ever fed her before and at first she felt awkward when the fork touched her lips but soon she relaxed and allowed him to take care of her.

Every bite was a sensual experience. His fingers lingered on her jaw, he watched her face closely to see her reactions, and she watched his as well. They drank shallow sips of the wines they had ordered and engaged in a long and winding conversation that touched on everything from vampires in modern fiction to rock music, politics, and religion.

The restaurant closed but none of the staff bothered to tell them, the exorbitant bill they had incurred earned them a little extra time at the table. When Sandra realized it was well after midnight she said so in a tone of disbelief.

Connor was more than a little tipsy. Sandra’s flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and huge grin assured him he was not the only one feeling the effects of the meal. “We need a cab.”

“I agree,” she hiccupped and slapped a hand across her mouth, a gesture that made him chuckle with amusement.

The waiter took his platinum credit card and promised to let the owners know that Connor would return early the next day to retrieve his car so the restaurant would not have the vehicle towed. The tip Connor added sealed the waiter’s desire to be helpful. Sandra was certain he would have driven them home himself if a cab had not been available.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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