Finally, she settled on the gray linen pants she’d just gotten back from the hotel cleaners, the white camisole and a wide black belt that emphasized her slender waist. He might not notice how she looked but it made her more confident to feel attractive. Attractive. As she said that to herself, she heard the sharp intake of his breath as he looked at her when she was naked, when he told her how beautiful she was. The image of him standing beside the bed, half dressed, staring at her, was burned into her brain.
Oh, God, how was she going to get through the next hour?
She carefully applied make-up and lip-gloss, sprayed on perfume. On the way down to the lobby she did the deep breathing exercises she’d learned in a meditation class but only seemed to use when she was in a panic, never when she actually tried to meditate.
Hoping to be the first to arrive, she’d gone to the bar early only to find he was already there, looking good enough to eat with a spoon. How he could make ordinary black trousers and a white shirt look sexy, she didn’t know but he did.
As soon as he saw her he slid out of the booth he’d claimed for them — the one they’d sat in the night before, she noticed — and stood to greet her. He flashed the glacier-melting smile but after he kissed her cheek, he frowned.
“You okay? You look … ”
“Yes, of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” She slipped into the back of the booth, not sitting close to him, trying not to notice the question in his eyes. Two glasses, which appeared to have Scotch in them, were sitting on cocktail napkins, one at his place and the other next to him. She moved the second glass in front of her and took a large sip.
“I ordered bruschetta for you. You still like it, don’t you?” he said indicating the plate with four slices of toasted bread topped with tomatoes and chopped basil.
“Yes, thanks. That was nice of you. But I’m not very hungry right now.”
“How was the conference today? Go to any interesting sessions?” He picked up his glass and touched it to hers.
“Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
“No, but I thought … ”
“Why did you say we needed to talk?”
“Okay, no small talk. Got it.” He took a sip of his drink, “About last night … ”
God, here it comes. She looked down into her glass, counting the ice cubes, which suddenly seemed of infinite interest.
“Walking home last night, I got to thinking, we made … well, I made … a big mistake.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Don’t worry. I didn’t take it seriously.” She used her nail to move an ice cube around in the glass.
He frowned. “Didn’t take what seriously?”
“You made a mistake. I get it. We’ll just go on from here.” She continued to play with the ice in her glass, avoiding his eyes, hoping he didn’t see that she was beginning to tear up.
“Margo, if I promise to circle back later and try to figure out what the hell you’re talking about, will you let me finish what I started to say?” He didn’t wait for a response, but went on. “As I was saying, walking home I realized I made a mistake last night. I should have taken you to my place. Then I wouldn’t have had to leave; you won’t run into Greer or anyone else you know there. So, how about you check out of the hotel and stay at my apartment until you go back to Portland on Sunday?”