start asking him questions.
But again she surprised him. She held her peace until he put the steaming cup in front of her. Then she sipped and said, “So good. Thank you.” She set the cup down. “Tell me about Susie.”
“That’s a bad idea.”
“Tell me anyway.”
He poured himself a cup and took the chair beside her. “You won’t like it.”
“Maybe not. But I want to know.”
“What, exactly, do you want to know?”
She studied his face for several seconds. He endured that scrutiny. And then she asked, “How do you know her?”
“You’re serious? You actually want to hear about Susie?”
“Didn’t I just say so?”
“Luce. I’ve had conversations like this one with women before. They never go well.”
She tipped her head to the side, considering. Then she simply tried again. “I am not blaming you. I am not looking for some way to make you the bad guy. I’m only trying to understand who Susie is to you.”
“Why do you need to understand that?”
“Because you were going to leave me at my door and walk away in order not to have to talk about it.” Damn. Was he that obvious? Apparently, he was. To her. She said, “So I think we need to clear that crap up right now. Tell me about Susie.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I hardly know her.”
“Then this won’t take long at all, will it?”
He opened his mouth to give her more evasions—and somehow the simple truth fell out. “I met her at a party very much like the one tonight. It was about three years ago. Here in New York. I think it was in SoHo. She had a girlfriend with her....”
Lucy had her chin on her hand again. “So it was the three of you?”
“That’s right. The girlfriend had a loft a few blocks from the party. I spent the night there with them. And the next time I came to New York, I called Susie. There was another girlfriend that time.”
“Is that...something you enjoy, Dami? Being with two women at once?”
He felt pinned, grilled. He struck back. “Why? Would you like to try it?”
She picked up her cup again. “I don’t think so.” Very carefully, she sipped and with equal care set the cup down. And then her sweet mouth trembled. She pressed her lips together to make the trembling stop and asked him hesitantly, “Do I...have this all wrong?”
“What are you talking about?” He growled the words.
Her gaze roamed his face as though seeking a point of entry. A small pained sound escaped her. Finally, she asked, “I mean, should I have let you go, stayed downstairs when you tried to get rid of me?”
All he had to do was say yes—and she would leave him, stop pushing him for answers to uncomfortable questions. But the lie stuck in his throat. “Why didn’t you?”
“I told you. It seemed like we really needed to talk this through, so I kept after you. But now... Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to follow you up here. You seem so angry, so defensive. Maybe I’m just butting in where I’m not wanted. Do you want me to go?” She waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, she said, “All right, then. I can take a hint.” Shifting away, she started to slide down from the chair.
He couldn’t bear it. He caught her shoulder. “No.” It came out ragged sounding. Raw. “I don’t want you to go.”
She turned to him again, so many questions in her eyes. “Dami...” She said his name so softly. With tenderness.
He let go of her, knowing he didn’t deserve her tenderness. “What?” he asked, low and gruff.
“I’m not judging you.” She touched the back of his hand—and too quickly withdrew. He wanted to grab her wrist, to hold on. But he did no such thing. She said, “I promise you, I am, truly, your friend first of all. I don’t want you to be anyone but exactly who you are.”
He didn’t believe her. “You say that now.”
“Because it’s the truth. I’m not judging you, but I do want to...understand. I want to understand you, Dami.”
He felt outclassed. Overmatched. By a homeschooled twenty-three-year-old who’d been a virgin until two weeks ago. He gritted his teeth and confessed, “I’ve tried a lot of things you might not approve of.”
She didn’t look the least surprised. “I only wanted to know about Susie because of what happened tonight. For the rest of it, well, Dami, it’s your life. I’m happy for whatever you want to share with me, but I really don’t need to hear about every single sexual encounter.”
“Good.”
But she wasn’t done yet. “As long as they were with other consenting adults.”
He nodded. “They were.”
“And no one was injured.”
He almost smiled. “No one.”
“And, well, now we’re on this subject, there’s something I should have asked you before, in Montedoro at Thanksgiving, but I was too nervous and afraid I might scare you off and not really planning ahead...”
“Luce.”
“Hmm?”
“Go ahead. Ask.”
“Do you— Have you always practiced safe sex?”
“Always.”
She looked into her cup and then back up at him. “Well. Okay, then.” She started to speak—and then didn’t.
He commanded, “Tell me. Just say it.”
“I... Well, I do care that while you’re with me, you’re only with me. I’m just kind of old-fashioned that way.”
The unreality of it—of Lucy as his lover—struck him anew. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined himself having this conversation with her. At the same time, after last night and the nights in Montedoro, he couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone but her. Which was pure insanity. It might feel stronger with her, better somehow. But it was simple sexual attraction and that never lasted. It ran its course and faded, like cut flowers in a crystal vase, like a stubborn head cold.
She spoke again. “If you can’t do that, can’t agree to be exclusively with me, well, that is a deal breaker for me.”
He had zero need to think it over. “Of course I can do that.” For as long as it lasted, she’d said—which as of now was only until Wednesday or Thursday. And that was yet another absurdity. He couldn’t imagine leaving her so soon.
And who did he think he was fooling, anyway? He shouldn’t even be here. It would have been better for both of them if he hadn’t shown up on her doorstep yesterday, better if he’d never let this thing with them get started....
“Dami, are you sure?”
He didn’t flinch, but he wanted to. The question itself was bad enough. Did she have to ask twice? He wanted to be insulted, to lay on the irony: Well, I might have to grab a quickie with a stranger between meetings on Monday. A man has needs after all.
But he looked in her eyes and all he saw was sincerity. She was an inexperienced, truehearted woman involved with a man who had no idea how many women he’d had in his bed. Of course she worried that he couldn’t be faithful.
So he answered her honestly. “I am sure, yes. Absolutely.” He wanted to touch her, to reach for her and draw her close. But that seemed wrong somehow and unfair. He reassured her further. “Until you, I hadn’t been