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they walked to his car. “Anxious to be away from them, aren’t you?”
    She shrugged as he opened her door. “They’ll only make me nervous.”
    He looked into her eyes. “Do you think you need to be nervous?”
    She touched his arm and shook her head. “Not at all.”
    “Damn! You’ve grown into a beautiful, sophisticated woman, and now I’ve lost all of my worldly, forbidden appeal. I don’t impress you at all anymore.”
    “That’s not true.” She got into the car, and he closed her door. When he slid in on his side, she smiled at him. “You’re still just as appealing as ever, only now I’m not worried that a beautiful, sophisticated woman is going to saunter up to you and tell me to run along and play.”
    “No, that certainly isn’t going to happen.” He took her hand and kissed her wrist. “You really do look beautiful. I’m glad I took the chance and contacted you.”
    “I am too.”
    She had a very hard time keeping a jubilant grin off her face as they drove to his apartment.
    * * * *
    Erik handed Susan a glass of wine before going back into the kitchen to check the lasagna. He wasn’t nervous. That simply wasn’t the feeling that had his stomach in knots. What was it? He planned on taking it slow with Susan. In all the years they’d been apart he had never stopped thinking about her. Since nothing had ever happened between them, they’d really been friends. Now? He didn’t know what she was expecting. He couldn’t deny how much he wanted her, and he had no intention of reining his flirting in, but how was he going to balance everything? He wanted her to take him seriously. If they had sex too soon, would she think that was all he wanted? His reputation was mostly just that, as he had told her. It was a reputation. He had done some things to deserve one, but he felt certain she wouldn’t be shocked by anything.
    The lasagna was just beginning to bubble around the edges, so he moved it to the bottom rack of the oven and slid the garlic bread in. He turned the oven down and picked up his own glass of wine. He took a long sip and then a deep breath.
    “You know, it’s odd Italian food is considered romantic. It tends to have garlic in it, and by the end you’re so full you hardly feel like moving,” he said. He sat down beside her. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
    She laughed. “Yes, I would. I do tend to wind up curled in a ball on the couch after too much pasta.”
    He hesitated. “I’m not trying to break the mood, or on the contrary try to get anything out of the way, but I just wanted to say in person that I’m so sorry about what happened to Mark. I’m sorry I didn’t make the funeral.”
    She touched his hand. “That’s fine. It was a small service. He didn’t like big, hectic affairs. I got your note. It was very sweet. You got my letter?”
    “Yes. I thought it was very kind of you to take the time to write back. I know you were busy and distracted. I was thinking about you every day. I knew you’d need time.”
    She put her wine down and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m just glad we had the time we did together. I’m glad the last two years of his life were good.”
    “I’m sure he was amazingly happy. I don’t mean to make you sad, but I had to say something. I’m sorry I never met him.”
    She laughed, which surprised him.
    “What?”
    “Oh, he would not have liked you. I don’t mean that as an insult. He would have known you were attracted to me, and he would never have let us hang out alone. He wasn’t jealous, and he trusted me, but he didn’t trust other men. He was convinced most men wanted to steal me from him.”
    “Most men probably did.”
    “Not that I recall.”
    He waited a few seconds, and then he asked, “So how is David? He lost his wife around the same time, right?”
    “Yes. Only two weeks later.”
    “That’s terrible.”
    “It was. He took it very badly. I can’t imagine him dating. His sense of humor has returned, but