to England after the war. "When I left for war, I had a normal life, more or less. I liked stepping out from my family's shadow. I believe the time of unelected leadership has long passed. Even if I didn't believe that, I’m an agnostic. I think that probably precludes me from being head of the Church of England."
"And Miami, was that your break-free moment?"
"Not exactly."
He looked away from her.
"That was years ago. I can't believe you’re still embarrassed."
"It was not my finest moment."
"Yet it was the prelude for the man I’m having dinner with tonight."
“Somewhat,” he said. “I dread having to explain that bit of my past to my children, especially if I have a daughter.”
“Two words,” Willow said. “Young and stupid.”
"That is true" He skewered a shrimp. "But, that’s history. Let us talk about something more interesting.”
"Like what?"
"You."
Willow almost choked on her clam.
"I thought we agreed not to -."
"We agreed not to talk about Sunday. At least parts of it," James said. "That doesn’t mean we can't talk about you."
"Okay, what do you want to know?"
"Are you seeing anyone, even occasionally?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Is the answer important?"
"Sure, I don't want to make his mistake."
"What makes you think he made a mistake?" Willow asked. "If it was even a man."
"You're a beautiful young woman with great fashion taste. You are intelligent. These are undeniably desirable qualities. So, what did he or she do?"
"We were the wrong fit."
"So is it he or she?" James asked.
She gave him a playful look.
“It was a man.”
“How long ago?”
“Seven months or so."
“And you haven’t been seeing anyone since.”
“I haven’t had the time,” she admitted. “But, enough about me. How about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
“This is our third date so I would say yes.”
“Not a date,” she said. “We’re neighbors having dinner. Any news on my car."
"I’m working on it. You know, I can always arrange to have Giles or another employee take you wherever you need to go."
"Thank you, but I sort of love driving. Besides, I might get used being chauffeured then what would happen after?"
"I’m certain we can come to some sort of arrangement."
"I don't want to intimidate my dates."
"I wouldn’t feel intimidated. I’m used to it."
“Okay, it’s apparent you’re going to dance around Sunday, so let’s get it out in the open,” she placed her utensils down and turned to look at him. “I find you extremely attractive. You have broad shoulders and an excellent physique. I could see that from your clothes. Beyond your scar, your face is symmetrical as is the rest of your body. I am attracted to you simply because you represent a fine specimen for procreation. And I am certain you know this from your litany of lovers.”
“Wow,” he said. “Why do I find you attractive?”
They were now looking at each other, the dinner forgotten.
“You just said you wanted kids and, I’m of perfect child bearing age. I have the appropriate ratio that tells you I could bear your children. Obviously you also find my external features appealing enough to engorge your boneless organ. It’s all anthropology.”
He gave a long hearty laugh.
“I thought you were a photographer, not an anthropologist.”
“I am a woman of many talents,” she said.
“When you say something like that, I’m not thinking childbearing,” he said. “What I am thinking may lead to childbearing, but childbearing is nowhere in my mind."
“Let’s not complicate being neighbors,” she said.
“I think you have me all wrong,” James said.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re thinking I just want to have sex with you and that’s it. It’s more than that. I like talking to you. And you’ve been, so far, quite candid and modern in your views on sexuality. I think taking the subtle approach would be rather insulting. And yes, you have, since we’ve met engorged my boneless organ."
It was her turn to laugh. The words falling from his lips were comical.
“So no wining, dining and romancing then?”
“The dining we have down,” he said. “Forget about the wine, I would hate to think whatever happen between us was due to a Chardonnay rather than good old fashion chemistry. As for the romancing, there will be plenty of that.”
“So this is how the magic of James Monroe happens?”
“The invitation is usually the other way round,” he said.
“I see.”
“I’m thirty seven years old,” he said. “I haven’t felt this comfortable or this attracted to anyone in a long time. Four days is a drop in the bucket, but it doesn’t feel like we only met four days ago. So let’s get