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They entered the chrome and black leather office, and again, she wondered who decorated the space because it didn’t seem like his taste.
He reached for the strap of her briefcase, and she let him ease it off her shoulder. “You’re done with business for today.”
Then he led her over to the sitting area where a bottle of champagne sat in an ice bath along with a bottle of bourbon, platters of Kobi sliders, salmon sliders, mini tacos, an assortment of spring rolls, hummus, what looked like a crab dip, and mountains of crackers. Her mouth watered, having skipped lunch.
“I remembered a few of the things you used to like.”
They’d go to a little place down the street from the Oasis and gorge themselves with every variety of tacos, then hit up the next block and order warm spring rolls.
“It looks delicious.”
He lifted the bottle from the ice, effortlessly popped the cork, and filled her fluted glass.
“That’s something I’ve never been able to accomplish. When I open the champagne, everyone needs to duck.”
He placed the bottle in the ice bucket, uncapped the bourbon, and poured a generous amount into his glass.
The first time she’d ever had champagne was with Samson.
He snatched a bottle from the Oasis, and they headed to the roof for a private after-hours party. He forgot to bring glasses, so they passed the bottle between them, the bubbles tickling her nose with each gulp. Soon, the sparkling wine made her giddy and bold enough to experience another first: sex outdoors where anyone in the neighboring buildings could see them. She straddled Samson and rode him with a wild abandon she’d never felt before or since then.
“You all right?” Samson’s low rasp snapped Lisbeth out of her sextasy, but the wetness in her silk panties was real. She almost asked Samson if he remembered that night too.
“You’ve switched to bourbon, but your drink used to be tequila.” Her words tumbled over each other in a failed attempt to sound normal.
“In those days, I drank whatever I could get my hands on and snorted what I could shove up my nose, but I want you to know I put that shit behind me.” Samson’s face clouded over for a second.
That explained his occasionally erratic behavior. At the time, Lisbeth had been too naive to recognize it, but now it made sense.
“Seems like we recalled quite a bit about each other.”
Frightening how memories could be primed and become so vivid—like the urgency of Samson’s touch and how they made every moment count like it might be their last, amping each other up until—
“Eat.” He waved his hand over the food, then settled in the leather chair on the side of the couch. Far enough away for comfort but close enough for her to see the smokey grey of his eyes. She’d forgotten what an unusual color they were and how they darkened when they . . . No, she would not go there.
“It’s so crazy you showing up here after all these years.” Samson sipped at the bourbon.
“I think it's crazier you being out here. After all, I live in California, but this is a huge jump from New York.”
“I guess we needed a change of atmosphere.”
Interesting choice of words.
“What made you move out to California?”
Because when you turned me away, my whole world fell apart. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely breathe, and my only thought was to move as far away from New York as possible.
“I needed a change too.” She congratulated herself on delivering such a generic answer.
Lisbeth bit into the fish taco. “This is delicious.” She swallowed and took another bite—anything to move the conversation from the past and the emotions he triggered. Feelings she had under control until last weekend now bubbled and simmered just below the surface, threatening to erupt at a moment's notice.
“We decided to add food but only serve until eleven, then the kitchen closes.” His intense focus lingered, and she lowered her eyes, concentrating on the taco like it could save her from this awkward situation.
“Fuckin’ unbelievable, after all these years, fate slammed us together again. Must be a reason, right?”
Her head popped up.
“You know what I mean?”
