it so longingly that Lee finally threw his hands up and pushed the plate toward her.
“Go ahead—have the rest. I can tell you want it.” He turned to Butts and laughed. “She always does this. No matter what she orders, she always wants what I have.”
“I do not!” Kathy protested, but she gobbled up the rest of the fettuccine greedily.
“Hmm,” Butts remarked, chewing on his steak. “I guess you suffer from pasta envy.”
“Touché,” Lee said, poking Kathy in the ribs.
Butts smiled broadly, obviously pleased with himself. Kathy pretended to be irritated with both of them, but in truth she was feeling good—a little tipsy, full of excellent food, sitting in this charming restaurant with a man she loved. Happiness filled her like helium; she was buoyant as rising dough. She wished she could always feel the way she felt right now. Later, she would think back to that evening and wish she could have stopped the hands of the clock right then and there.
CHAPTER FIVE
As soon as Lee unlocked the dead bolt to his apartment door, the phone rang. He rushed through the living room to answer it, but he wasn’t quick enough—by the time he reached it, the phone had stopped ringing.
“Damn,” he muttered, throwing his coat on the couch. He looked at the caller ID, which read UNAVAILABLE. That meant someone was calling from a blocked number—or that they had dialed *69 before calling him to hide their identity. Either way, he wouldn’t be able find out who it was and call them back.
Kathy trailed in behind him, closing the door after her.
“Just missed it?” she said, sinking down on the couch.
“Yeah,” he said. “They blocked caller ID, too, so I don’t know who it was.”
“Who would be calling you at this hour?”
“My first thought would be my mother,” he replied, “but she doesn’t even know what caller ID is, let alone how to block it.”
“Maybe they’ll leave a message.” She rubbed her stomach and grimaced. “Oh, I am so full. I can’t believe I finished the rest of your fettuccine. I’m terrible, aren’t I?”
Lee laughed. “One of these days I’m going to order something you really hate, like liver, so I can eat the whole thing myself.”
She threw a couch pillow at him. “Sadist.”
He dodged out of the way, then picked it up and threw it back. “Glutton.”
She hurled it back at him. “Poseur.”
He aimed at her head, then, as she ducked, threw it at her torso. “Nympho.”
“Oof!” she said as the pillow hit her stomach. “Got me right where it hurts.” She bent down to pick it up off the floor, then stopped. “What’s that smell?”
“What smell?”
“Like lilacs,” she said, sniffing their air. “It smells like lilac perfume.”
“Oh, that,” he said, feeling guilty, though he had done nothing wrong.
She threw the pillow back at him. “Do you have a mistress?”
He threw his hands up in surrender, letting it hit him. “Okay, you caught me.”
“I knew it! What’s her name?”
“Promise not to tell anyone?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
He sat down next to her and whispered in her ear. She hurled another pillow at him at close range.
“Ow!” he said. “That hurt!”
“Serves you right,” she said. “Leading a girl on like that.”
“Well, you are my mistress,” he said. “Or my girlfriend, or whatever you want to call it.”
“Seriously, though, was someone here wearing lilac perfume?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Who was it?”
“Well, I guess since she wasn’t here as a patient, it’s all right to tell you.”
He had known two things about Kathy Azarian soon after meeting her: that she was courageous and that she was willful, someone you would want nearby in a crisis. But it was as impossible for him to put a finger on what exactly he was drawn to as it was to pluck a single drop of water from a running stream. Her slim androgyny hid a femininity so profound that he felt in touching her, he was touching all women. It was as though his atoms had been perfectly formulated to resonate with hers.
He told her the story of Ana’s visit, including her past as his patient—though he neglected to mention her attempt to seduce him years ago. Kathy didn’t seem to be the jealous type, but he had no desire to test that theory.
Kathy listened, frowning. “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”
“I don’t know what to think. I was thinking that might be her calling when we came in.”
“Maybe it was a wrong number. Why don’t you see if they left