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your world so much luster. Don’t you think?”
    Luster. Until then Claire had been unable to pinpoint what it was she had started to feel. But his words hit her with unexpected force. She nodded, open-mouthed, feeling as if he somehow understood something she had long ago forgotten. And in that dreamlike moment when the world exists in a narrow, slow motion frame, she reached out and touched the scar above his lip, letting her fingernail rest there for a second. His skin was warm and damp. “God, I’m so sorry,” she said, quickly withdrawing from the intimacy of the gesture.
    Andrew delicately brushed the inside of Claire’s wrist before she’d completely pulled away. “It’s all right. It was a skiing accident when I was a kid.”
    Sabina appeared at the table as Claire was collecting herself to offer coffee and dessert.
    “I’ll just have a cappuccino, thanks, Sabina,” she said, twisting her napkin tightly around her offending finger. She felt heat in her cheeks and neck.
    “Oh, come on. Live on the edge. Have some cheesecake in honor of New York, and its karmic possibilities.” He ran a bent knuckle back and forth over the scar.
    The dessert arrived on one plate, with two forks, and they relished it as little children would a last piece of birthday cake. Claire steered the conversation back to the safety of a certain Italian bakery on Mulberry Street, and to the city in general.
    “So, what made you leave New York?” Andrew asked.
    “Michael, actually. We met at the home of a mutual friend on Long Island. He was in from out of town, and he swept me right off my Charles Jourdan stilettos.” She placed her fork on the edge of the plate and stared silently into the candlelight, recalling a dinner party nearly two decades earlier when a charming and brilliant new player had crashed her social whirl.
    “And?”
    “And after a few months of commuting, I found myself back in the Bay Area, engaged. It was the late eighties and Michael was just striking his semiconductor gold in Silicon Valley. Life was so . . . exciting.” Her thoughts drifted, and she felt Andrew’s leg skim hers under the table.
    “Excuse me,” he said with some embarrassment; whether it was feigned or real, Claire couldn’t tell, and she didn’t mind.
    His eyes seemed a brighter green to her now with a hint of aqua, almost the same color as her own, and they burned with equal parts attraction and unbound desire. They picked up their forks. Claire wiped phantom crumbs from the tablecloth with her other hand. “Enough about me. Tell me what you do with your time when you’re not attending museum galas or checking out the galleries.” Banter, I can do banter, she reminded herself. “No, wait, let me guess. You like car racing. You definitely ski. And you paint animal portraiture on Thursdays.”
    “Very nice—ten points for originality and near-accuracy.” Andrew swallowed the last of his wine. “I do actually enjoy car racing, and I like to heli-ski these days.”
    “Ah. I always seem to gravitate toward risk-takers.”
    Andrew raised both eyebrows this time.
    “I mean, Michael’s that way. The nature of his business and all.”
    As they stabbed at the crust of the cheesecake, Michael reappeared at the table and apologized to Andrew for his long absence. Issues in Hong Kong, he offered by way of excuse. “So, how long will you be in town, Andrew?” Michael asked, focusing in on his guest.
    “I have meetings scheduled through the end of the week, and I’ll be visiting friends in Aspen next week. But I’ll be at the Hotel Monaco while I’m in Denver.”
    Claire ran her fingers through her hair, tucking one side behind her ear, leaving the other to fall over the corner of her eye and cheekbone.
    “Fine. I’ll be in touch with you before I leave for Europe.” Michael handed his credit card to Sabina. “Excellent job as always, sweetheart,” he said to the exotic server, who smiled demurely.
    Andrew shook Michael’s