“I would hope so, seeing as how I do,” I said.

She shook her head, and picked up a pottery figurine shaped like a little fat-bellied dog that I had bought at a market in Cuzco. “No, I mean, that other place, that was just sad. It didn’t look like anybody really lived there. But I can see you, like, picking out that chair because you liked it and thought it would match the carpet, or whatever.”

“Is that how interior decorating works?” I asked. “I though the carpet was supposed to match the drapes.”

She shot me a dark look, and returned the dog to its place on the coffee table. “That isn’t funny.”

“Come on,” I said, “it’s a little funny.”

“I don’t want to encourage you,” she said. “So is this where you throw all of your wild parties?”

Did she think I was the wild party type? “Not really,” I said. “Actually, nobody knows about this place except my parents and Will. And you, now.”

She looked at me for a moment, her grey eyes wide and luminous, and I wished to God that I knew what she was thinking.

“Let’s eat,” I said, to break the silence. “Lunch is getting cold.”

She sat at the small table, just big enough for two, and I plated the food and brought it out to her.

“It smells really good,” she said, picking up her fork. “What is it?”

I chuckled and took a seat. “Eggplant pizzas and baked polenta fries.”

“Wow,” she said. “And here I thought you mainly survived on takeout.”

“You aren’t wrong,” I said, “but keep in mind that my brother is a chef. I haven’t been able to avoid learning how to make a few simple dishes.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes, and then she said, “Tell me about your family.”

I shrugged. “There isn’t much to say. You’ve met Will. My parents have been married for thirty years. We all get along. It’s fairly boring.”

“Happy families are all alike,” she quoted. I raised an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes. “I know I didn’t go to college, but it’s not like I crawled out of a swamp.”

“You didn’t go to college?” I asked, surprised.

“Uh, no,” she said. “Didn’t you know that? I didn’t even finish high school. I’ve been working in strip clubs since I was seventeen.”

“Oh, Sasha,” I said, my heart breaking. But I knew she would be irritated if I expressed too much dismay or sympathy, so I said, “I’ll tell you how my parents met.”

“Very adorably,” she said. “Or, no, I bet it was something scandalous, like he was her professor.”

I grinned. “Not quite. My mother didn’t come from money. Her father was an accountant, and her mother taught kindergarten. Very middle-class. Anyway, my mother ended up going to business school, and she was hired on at the Turner Group as a Vice President. Apparently they got into a screaming match the first time they met, and six months later they were engaged.”

“That is pretty adorable,” Sasha said. “And then your dad quit working at the company?”

I nodded. “He’s still on the board, but my mother’s been running the show for decades. He does a lot of philanthropic work now, but when Will and I were younger, he mostly just stayed home with us.”

“That must have been really nice,” she said.

“It was,” I said, “although the whole stay-at-home-dad thing wasn’t so common back then, and he complained a lot that people acted like he was a child molester when he took us to the park.” She laughed, and I said, “Tell me about your parents.”

She looked down at her plate. “They were neighbors. They grew up next door to each other. My mother’s a little bit slow, you know, mentally, and I think my dad felt like he needed to take care of her. They used to turn on the radio in the kitchen, after we were all supposed to be asleep, and they would dance together. Me and my sister would sneak out of bed and watch them. I know he really loved her.”

She was using the past tense, and I remembered the oxygen tank in the picture on her dresser. “Did he die?” I asked, very gently.

She swallowed. “Yeah. A couple of years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She looked up at me and gave me a faltering smile. “It’s okay. We all knew it was coming.” She took the last bite of her lunch, and then said, “That was really good. Thanks for cooking for me.”

If she wanted to change the subject, I wasn’t going to act like a boor and refuse. “You’re welcome,” I said. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

She leaned back in her chair and gave me a considering look. “Now what?”

Well, all I wanted to do was tumble her into bed and tease her until she forgot her own name, but I thought suggesting that mere moments after discussing her deceased father might be a little crude. “Anything you want,” I said. “We could open a bottle of wine, if you’d like.”

“No,” she said. Her eyelids dipped down, and then she glanced up at me, a sly heat in her eyes that set my pulse racing. “I want you to take me to bed.”

And so I did.

14

I lay her down on her back in my bed, her face lit by the sun streaming through the skylight above. Her hair spread across the pillow in a dark mass. I lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, and drew the fingers of my free hand along her neck and down her chest to the triangle of pale skin revealed by the neckline of her blouse.

She shivered at my touch, and this was one of my favorite things about her: how responsive she was, how eager for more.

“You magnificent creature,” I said.

“I’m not a creature,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“A nymph,” I said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “A maenad.” I kissed her mouth, feeling it curl into a smile, and she wrapped her arms around me and gave herself over to the kiss.

She was soft and yielding beneath me, and I claimed her mouth with my own, opening her with my tongue, tasting her lips and teeth. I drew my hand down her body, cupping her breast, mapping out the lush curve of her hip. She had the sort of body that would make angels weep. I wanted her naked so that I could explore every inch of her skin. Just the thought of it had my cock standing at attention inside my jeans.