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Ander justchuckled as they began to leave the rink. He suggested a little Italian placejust a few blocks down for dinner—remarking it was one of his favorites—and Loriagreed. It was a mild evening and Lori enjoyed the walk and was genuinelyinterested in the story Ander told her about the architect who designed thebuilding on the corner.

She wasevidently too relaxed, however, because she randomly spoke what was on hermind. Rarely a good idea.

“You know, Ander,sometimes it’s a little unnerving to be around you. I mean, you’re so good ateverything. You knoweverything.”

Ander gave hera sideways look. “I told you the other day that I only knew about Asian fansbecause I did my homework.”

Lori couldn’thelp but laugh. “I know. But, seriously, you’re amazingly knowledgeable andcompetent. I generally think I’m a smart, talented person. But I sometimes feellike an inexperienced ignoramus when I’m around you.”

Her tone hadbeen light but Ander came to a stop on the sidewalk, causing the couple behindthem to veer widely around them with a muttered grumble. “Lori, that’s absurd.”

“I know.” Shefelt shy and a kind of squirmy for some reason. “I’m not saying it’s somethingI believe. I justfeelthat way sometimes. And sometimes I wish...I wishyou didn't always have to be the teacher. I wish there was something I couldteachyou.”

Her voice fadedoff on the last words, as she was mostly speaking to herself. She stared at theconcrete and processed what she’d just said.

But Andersuddenly grew tense and he moved a hand to her face, lifting it so she waslooking into his eyes. “Lori,” he said, his voice unexpectedly thick. “Do youhave any idea what you’ve taught me?”

Lori’s mouthfell open again. “What?” she breathed, her pulse starting to pound frantically.

For just amoment, she thought she would drown in his eyes. They looked more gray thanblue in the lowering light and they held such depth she couldn’t begin tounderstand them.

Then his mouthquirked up with a dry humor she recognized. She usually loved his sense ofhumor but the sight of it now made her want to scream—since it meant his moodhad shifted from the delicious tension of a moment ago.

Ander murmuredsomething that might have been the truth, but was obviously not what he’doriginally intended. “You’ve taught me how to research Asian fans.”

** *

As they walked the last twoblocks to the restaurant, Lori’s high spirits returned with the quicksilvervariability that seemed to define her time spent with Ander over the last fewweeks.

She wasactually giggling as they walked into the small, candle-lit restaurant. The airsmelled like garlic and delightful music played in the background. A genialMediterranean-looking man greeted Ander by name and turned to Lori with ablinking smile that looked vaguely surprised.

Lori loved theplace immediately.

There weren’tvery many tables and evidently all of them were taken. The host was extremelyapologetic and offered them a complimentary drink while they waited a fewminutes for one of the tables to vacate.

Not used tosuch treatment by a restaurant host unless she tossed around the name Claire Kent,Lori leaned toward Ander as they stood near the wall in the pleasant entryway.“What have you done to earn such treatment?” she murmured, foolishly enjoyingthe sense of having him so close to her in such a public place.

Ander smiled,his eyes lingering on her face in a way that made her shiver in delight. “Icome here a lot.”

When the hostbrushed by her on his way to scout out table availability, Lori swayed evencloser to Ander, instinctively putting one hand out to curve gently around hisside, just under his ribs. “Do you live around here?”

She had no ideawhere he lived and she was dying to know what his home was like. But she askedthe question absently, without any underhanded motive to pry.

“Not far.” Anderdidn’t look particularly closed off, although his answer wasn’t at allforthcoming. He didn’t pull away from her. In fact, he shifted a little,leaning against the wall and somehow moving even closer to her.

Their hips,chests, and arms brushed against each other, and Lori still hadn’t removed herhand from his side.

She liked theway he was looking at her. She liked the way his body felt beneath her palm—thewarm, firm flesh she felt beneath his shirt not sexual as much as intimate.

And sherealized that this was something she was missing—the feel of being with a manin public, having everyone around them know they were together. She was paying Anderfor his time and attention this evening, but everyone who saw them must assumethey were a couple.

Itfeltlike they were together. And that tiny, nagging, inner voice that alwaysinsisted on spoiling Lori’s simple fun kept telling her she was treading very dangerouswater here.

She wasn’tentirely a fool. And she was very afraid she was becoming one of those silly,desperate women who started to believe in a fantasy. Who convinced themselvesthat what they had with Ander was real.

She wasrelieved when the host came back over and brought them their drinks. Lorisipped her red wine and watched, strangely fascinated, as Ander took a swallowof his scotch.

“Sorry aboutthe wait,” Ander murmured, adjusting so his arm was around her and she wasleaning against the wall with him. “We can go somewhere else if you want.”

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