Page 3 of It's a Widow Thing

Funny, but very little about Michael was either of those things. “Well, it looks nice.”

“Can we talk about something more fun?” He stretched his arm back behind her and softly brushed her shoulder with his fingers.

And to think she’d been worried about talking. She hadn’t even considered that she might need to stress out about touching. And so soon, although to be fair to Michael, any man who didn’t know about her past, would assume she was fair game. Was she on the market? Part of her wanted to be. It sounded so fun and carefree. If only it didn’t make her hands sweat and her heart race like she was a teenage girl trying to figure out boys. “We could talk about work. I realize that’s not super original of me.” She folded her hands in her lap. There was nowhere else for them to go that didn’t suggest that she was open to an escalation of their physical contact. It was difficult enough to think straight when he was drawing delicate circles on her shoulder.

Michael cleared his throat and brushed his pant leg. “Fair enough. I pretty much despise everyone I work with and am worried I’m going to hell for being nothing less than an ambassador for greed and wealth.”

“Tell me what you really think.”

“You asked.” He considered her with his damning cocoa brown eyes. “The thing is, the more time I spend doing it, the better I get and the less I have to try. Which gives me a little too much time to think.”

“Were you hoping the blonde would keep your mind off all that thinking?”

“No. That just happened. She approached me and I couldn’t be rude.”

“Never.”

“And I needed a distraction while I was waiting for you to arrive.”

There went Smooth Michael. “You were not waiting for me. I find it hard to believe you would ever wait for a woman.”

“You don’t know me very well, then.”

Sabrina hadn’t bargained on that answer. “Sorry.”

He cleared his throat, seeming as if he was about to say something especially weighty. “Let me ask you this, since I’m clearly questioning my life choices and I know your career is important to you. Do you ever wonder if putting everything you had into a job was a mistake?”

If only he knew how much that exact question weighed on her. She’d spent far too much time working during her marriage, before Andrew got sick. If she’d known their time together was going to be so short, she would’ve done things differently.

“Yeah. I know what you’re getting at, but I try not to live with too many regrets.” Except that was a total lie. She did have regrets, the most painful of which was that she’d been the one in her marriage to put off having a baby. Even when Andrew had made his case more than once.

Let’s do it now. The perfect time for a baby will never come.

Just one more year. Let me get my company to a better place first.

Michael cocked his head to the side, seeming surprised. “So work still comes first?”

“Something like that.” Her voice faded. Caging answers took so much work. It’d be much simpler to simply come out with it and tell him that she didn’t know what else she was supposed to do anymore, but she’d resolved not to dredge up the past tonight. And they were having fun. It was just going to mess things up.

“When I was in my twenties, I thought my whole life was made. Absolutely perfect. I was on top of my game, living here in Manhattan, going out every night, beautiful women around every corner.”

“You really shouldn’t pick your women from corners. That could get you arrested.”

“Funny. Very funny.” He smiled and shook his head. “But then twenty years fly by and I’m looking around wondering what in the hell I’m supposed to be doing now.”

“I get that. Completely.”

“I’d just like to figure out a little more than how to make money.”

A strong breeze swept across the terrace. Goose bumps propagated on Sabrina’s arms, but it was more from his words than the chill. Maybe their flirtation was ill-fated. He was certainly coming at it from a different viewpoint. He was busy pondering the meaning of life while she had entirely too much experience with it. She was exhausted from it. Even questioning the meaning of the next twenty-four hours seemed like an insurmountable task.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“Oh, no. I’m fine.” She pulled her arms tightly around her body.

Michael scooted to the edge of the seat and removed his suit coat. He placed it around her shoulders, rubbed them then gripped them tightly. “There. Better?”

She looked up at him, getting caught in the warmth of his eyes. He really was sweet. And way too handsome for words. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”