Page 13 of A Man After Midnight

“What do you do in Baton Rouge?”

“I’m a manager of an independent pharmacy.”

“You enjoy it?”

“I do, actually.” Her lips twisted in a grimace. “I moved back there after my marriage collapsed.”

“From where?”

“Are we playing twenty questions?”

“How else am I to learn about you?”

One eyebrow pitched upward. “Why do you want to know anything about me?”

He frowned. “I generally like to know something about the woman I sleep with.”

Caroline could feel heat engulf her face. At that moment, the waiter came back and cleared the table, asking if they wanted anything more. Both declined and Wren handed over his credit card.

“California,” she answered when they were alone again. “Los Angeles.”

“Troublemaker Cosmetics has an office in L.A.,” he said. “Beautiful weather. Horrendous traffic.”

“I think New York City gives L.A. a run for its money on the traffic issue,” she pointed out.

“Maybe, but we have a superb subway system.”

“L.A. has a subway. Somewhat.” She narrowed her eyes as she assessed him, then shook her head as if coming to a conclusion. “I don’t see you as a subway person.”

“The subway is the only way to travel in Paris,” he admitted, holding up his finger and thumb measuring about an inch. “The streets are this big. So why California?”

“Greg wanted to be an actor,” she replied. “We moved there together.”

“Your husband?”

“Ex-husband. Or will be, as soon as he signs the divorce papers.”

“He hasn’t signed them yet?”

“No.” She sighed. “He gave me this song and dance about how he lost them, so the paralegals had to redraft them.”

“You’re not using a lawyer?”

She shook her head. “There’re no assets, and neither of us is contesting. Paralegals were cheaper.”

“And legal?”

“Of course.”

“Hmm,” he said, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. “I don’t like the fact that you’re still married. I swore to myself that I’d never have sex with a married woman, and you’ve made me break my vow.”

“Shh,” she admonished, looking around to make sure no one heard his off-hand comment. “It’s not like that, and you know it. I doubt you were a monk before I came along.”

“My grandmother thought I was a saint.” Laughter made his grey eyes sparkle like river rocks.

“Poor deluded woman.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “Anyway, once those papers are filed that chapter of my life will be all over.” She couldn’t keep the sad little hitch out of her voice.

“Do you still love him?”

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