Bed of Roses Page 0,65

And she saw me, before she jumped you. She knew you'd brought me with you, so she put on a show."

"Deliberately embarrassed herself? Why would anyone do that?"

"She wasn't embarrassed, she was revved." She angled her head, looking into his baffled eyes. "Men really don't see things like that, do they? It's so interesting. Jack, she was the star of her own romantic tragedy, and she fed on every moment. I bet she sells more of that nonsense she calls art tonight because of it."

When he drove in silence for the next few moments, she winced. "And all that really hammered your ego."

"Scratched it, superficially. I'm weighing that against knowing I didn't somehow give her the wrong signal and actually deserve that entertaining little show." He shrugged. "I'll take the scratch."

"You're better off. So . . . any other ex we-had-a-thing you want me to meet?"

"Absolutely not." He glanced at her, and the streetlights sheened over the golds and bronzes in his hair.

"But I do want to say that, for the most part, the women I've dated have been sane."

"That speaks well of you."

T HEY CHOSE A LITTLE BISTRO AND SHARED A PLATE OF ALFREDO. She relaxed him, he thought, which was odd, as he'd always considered himself fairly relaxed to begin with. But spending time with her, just talking about anything that came to mind, made any problem or concern he might be dealing with in some corner of his brain vanish.

Odder still was being excited and relaxed around a woman at the same time. He couldn't remember having that combination of sensations around anyone but Emma.

"How come," he wondered, "in all the years I've known you, you've never cooked for me?"

She wound a solitary noodle on her fork. "How come in all the years I've known you, you never took me to bed?"

"Aha. So you only cook for men when you get sex."

"It's a good policy." She smiled, her eyes laughing as she nibbled away at the noodle. "I go to a lot of trouble when I cook. It ought to be worth it."

"How about tomorrow? I can make it worth it."

"I bet you can, but tomorrow won't work. No time to market. I'm very fussy about my ingredients. Wednesday's a little tight, but - "

"I have a business thing Wednesday night."

"Okay, next week's better anyway. Unlike Parker, I don't carry my schedule in my head backed up by the BlackBerry attached to my hand, but I think . . . Oh. Cinco de Mayo. It's nearly the fifth of May. Big family deal - you remember, you've come before."

"Biggest blast-out party of the year."

"A Grant family tradition. Talk about cooking. Let me check my book and all of that, and we'll figure it out."

She sat back with her wine. "It's almost May. That's the best month."

"For weddings?"

"Well, it's a big one for that, but I'm thinking in general. Azaleas, peonies, lilacs, wisteria. Everything starts budding and blooming. And I can start planting some annuals. Mrs. G will put in her little kitchen garden. Everything starts over or comes back. What's your favorite?"

"July. A weekend at the beach - sun, sand, surf. Baseball's cruising. Long days, grills smoking."

"Mmm, all good, too. All very good. The smell of the grass right after you mow it."

"I don't have grass to mow."

"City boy," she said, pointing at him.

"My lot in life."

As they both toyed with the pasta, she leaned in. The conversations humming around them barely registered. "Did you ever consider living in New York?"

"Considered. But I like it here. For living, and for the work. And I'm close enough to go in and catch the Yankees, the Knicks, the Giants, the Rangers."

"I've heard rumors about ballet, opera, theater there, too."

"Really?" He sent her an exaggerated look of puzzlement. "That's weird."

"You, Jack, are such a guy."

"Guilty."

"You know, I don't think I've ever asked you, why architecture?"

"My mother claims I started building duplexes when I was two. I guess it stuck. I like figuring out how to use space, or change an existing structure. How can you use it better? Are you going to live in it, work in it, play in it? What's around the space, what's the purpose? What are the best and most interesting or practical materials? Who's the client and what are they really after? Not all that different, in some way, than what you do."

"Only yours last longer."

"I have to admit I'd have a hard time seeing my work fade and die off. It doesn't bother you?"

She