"I performed surgery on my self-diagnosed emotional cancer. A 'divorce-ectomy', if you will."

He quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, I mean it wasn't all Brad's fault. I was a bit strung out when it came to food and my body before I met him. I can't think of a single woman I've ever met who hasn't been on at least one diet, you know?"

He nodded as he tore off a chunk of the focaccia. "Well, I can. But there aren't many, it's true."

"I'd been kinda chubby as a teen. Not huge-well, I'd thought so at the time, but really not that big. Smaller than I am now by a good twenty-five pounds. And way more active. I was still hiking and biking and cheerleading back then. But when I started cla.s.ses at USM, I got stressed out and started eating more. I always thought that the 'freshman fifteen' was reserved for students who lived on campus, but apparently commuters aren't immune.

"Anyway, I saw Brad around campus, and just thought he was a dream-tall, lean, wavy blond hair and ice blue eyes. But Mr. "Captain of the basketball team" didn't even know I was alive. So I decided to get his attention by getting thin and pretty. I starved myself over the summer and was nice and slender by the time fall cla.s.ses started soph.o.m.ore year." Lauren pushed a piece of yellow pepper around her plate, tracing the Prussian blue pattern spiraling to its center. "As luck would have it, Brad and I turned out to have the same English cla.s.s, so I had something to talk with him about. You know, as an ice-breaker. At first I tried to sit next to him and say hi or whatever. But after a while he started sitting next to me. And wanting to compare notes on cla.s.s."

Jamie smiled. "I see that sort of thing going on in my cla.s.ses all the time. What happened next?"

"He finally asked me out, and I was over the moon. We went to dinner and he ordered everything for us. If I'd been more with it and there had been fewer stars in my eyes, I would have noticed what was really going on. He was chowing down on steak, and I was eating light pasta with salad. And it was always like that. Whenever we went out to eat, he chose my food. But I didn't think anything of it. Just a.s.sumed it was all part of being a gentleman, you know?

"Anyway, we dated for two years, then he proposed Christmas Eve of senior year, and we got married in June after graduation. We did all right for a couple of years. He was taking law cla.s.ses, and I was subst.i.tute teaching and trying to keep us alive financially." Her hand clenched at the linen napkin by her plate. "But he got more controlling. When he finished law school and found a job, we moved into this building and he decorated our place--didn't want me to have a thing to do with picking anything out. He wanted everything to be perfect for when we hosted dinner parties for work, and so on. He got more insistent about what I ate. What I wore. Who I talked to. And the more he yelled at me, the more I ate. The more I ate, the more he yelled. The breaking point was the office Christmas party year before last, when he told me he was going to go to it alone because he was too embarra.s.sed to be seen with me. And so he just took off and left me home.

"But I screwed up my nerve, got all decked out and turned up anyway. And got the shock of my life when I saw him kissing a girl under the mistletoe. I mean really kissing her. As in examining her for tonsillitis with his tongue." Lauren dropped the much-abused napkin into her lap and tried to smooth out the wrinkles she'd created.

"And that's when it everything fell into place. All his late nights, his anger, his never wanting to touch me. I knew then he'd been fooling around. Maybe with that girl, maybe with others. I dunno. I think there might even have been one in this building." She bit her lip.

"What a piece of... Tell me you let him have it right there in front of all his precious coworkers!"

"Heavens, no! I got out of that place as fast as I could. I sat in my car for...oh...an hour or more just sobbing. I thought my life was over. And I really considered driving myself into the bay, you know? But then I got mad. Really mad. And I started considering driving him into the bay instead. I mean how dare he? How dare he make my life so miserable and then go out and do whatever he wanted?

"I went back to the apartment and waited for him to come home. Which he did not do 'til almost five a.m.. And I confronted him. Told him I knew he'd been cheating on me. Even described the girl he'd been choking to death with his tongue. And when he heard that, he knew I really knew. But instead of telling me he was sorry, he told me it was all my fault for being a big fat, disgusting slob."

Jamie's knife clattered against the plate as he dropped it.

"Oh yes, he did! And I got so mad that I pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket and threatened to go through the numbers on the speed dial and see how many weren't work-related so I could have a record for the divorce proceedings. He made a grab for it, and I dropped it and accidentally stepped on it. It made a crunching sound, and I could hear one last pitiful little whimper from the dial tone before it gave up the ghost."

She sighed inside, wondering what had made her go on for so long. She'd told him this much, so she figured she might as well finish the story. "That's when Brad hauled off and hit me. I mean he nailed me right in the eye. It hurt so bad I thought I was gonna be sick. I threatened to call the cops on him and he backed down. Having a record as a wife beater wasn't going to help him in his line of work. He left. I didn't see him for a week after that. And I didn't care. I had to take time off from work because of my eye. Couldn't have the kiddies see me all purple and swollen, so I spent the whole time packing up his c.r.a.p. When he finally showed up, I directed him to the corner of the living room with all his boxes, suggested he remove them post haste, and told him to be expecting a call from my lawyer. From a rival firm, of course."

Jamie nodded. "I'm glad you got that last dig in. But I wish I'd been around here back then. I would have been happy to belt him back for ya. Or better yet, taught you how to do it for yourself." He took her hand in his, gave it a comforting squeeze, then returned it to her lap.

"Well. It's water under the bridge now. I don't care what he does anymore." She took a bite of the chicken Marsala, savoring both the flavor of it and the knowledge that Brad would have pitched a fit if he'd seen her eating it.

"So how is life on your own, Lauren?"

She beamed at him. "Heaven. Absolute heaven. You'll have to come down to my apartment sometime. I have pictures of what it looked like before he moved out, so you can see what I've done with the place."

"I'm looking forward to it. Judging by that whimsical doorknocker of yours, I think I'm going to like your style." He stood and cleared their plates.

Lauren got up as well. "Let me help you with that."

"Nah. I've got it. Why don't you grab some dessert plates and forks and we'll put a serious dent in that chocolate cheesecake. It'll be the perfect complement to that gorgeous sunset out there." His eyes swept over the window, taking in the distant bay and the sun, half-hidden by clouds, sinking slowly behind the horizon.

Lauren did as he asked and before long she was seated at the table again, drifting away with the velvety cheesecake melting on her tongue.

"How is it that you only just moved here and have already discovered cheesecake from Aurora's?"

"Luck of the Irish, I guess? We Brandts seem to have a knack for finding all the best food." The chirping of the phone interrupted his last bite.

"Excuse me. I'll be right back." He swiped a napkin over his mouth and dashed across the room. "h.e.l.lo? Oh, hi. Yeah. Hang on."

He lifted an apologetic finger and mouthed that he would only be moment, then disappeared around the corner into his bedroom. Lauren felt like all the light had left with him. She got up and set the dessert plates in the sink, which she began to fill with hot water. She tilted her head and tuned into Jamie's deep voice as it rumbled from the next room. Unable to make out the words, she smiled when she heard his distinctive laughter.

Normally doing dishes was not her favorite past-time, but she welcomed the task as she waited for him to return, the soft clinking of the gla.s.ses and silky bubbles soothing her. She swayed along with the jazz floating in the air and tried not to let her self-doubts overtake her mind.

I can't believe I just ate supper with a man like that! Memories of Brad ignoring her chubby little freshman self on campus all those years ago flitted through her head. She shook it, trying to clear it, and brought forth the rea.s.suring memory of Jamie p.r.o.nouncing her "lovely as-is" instead.

Yeah, but... She heaved a sigh. Is he just being kind? Neighborly? Or does he maybe think I am potential date material? She considered his actions over the course of the evening. Well, he didn't rush to throw me out so he wasn't hating it, but then he did ask me in so maybe he just felt obligated to keep me here! Like he had made his bed and so he had to lie in it. She threw a glance in the direction of the room he now occupied. What I wouldn't give to lie in it with him! In frustration, she splashed her hand down into the water and groped for another dish to clean. If I could just get a sign that he really is interested in me, I'd be more than happy to return the sentiment!

She thought again of his angry reaction to her story about her life with Brad. The tenderness he had shown when he'd taken her hand in his to comfort her made Lauren smile in remembrance. She made dreamy swipes at the plate, the damp sponge's motions perfectly synchronized with those of her hips, which continued to sway to the seductive music.

Then she sensed his presence behind her, felt his body heat mingling with hers. Her heart jumped in her chest as he closed the gap between them, wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair.

"Dancing by oneself seems a terrible waste of a wonderful good song." He turned his head and rested it on her shoulder. "You do know that this," he said, prying the sponge from her hand, "isn't necessary? I have a dishwasher."

Turning her to face him, he brushed wayward bangs from her eyes with a tender sweep of his long fingers. "May I have this dance?"

Lauren nodded and his large body enveloped her smaller one as she tried in desperation to remember how to dance.

And breathe.

After what seemed an eternity, her feet finally began to shuffle along with his. He pulled her closer, encircling her with his strong arms, and used his own gently swaying hips to coax hers back into their previous rhythm.

Her breath caught in her throat as Jamie traced his fingertips across her shoulder blades. "You know, I just can't remember the last time I danced with such a beautiful woman."

Oh! He thinks I'm beautiful! In a fit of shyness, she lowered first her gaze, then her head. She nestled against him, rubbing her cheek against his well-defined chest, willing herself to absorb his essence, his body heat. His heartbeat.

She reveled in their reflection in the large picture window across the room, where she saw the look of sincere pleasure on Jamie's face. Then her eyes drifted closed in contentment, savoring the thrill of it all. This gorgeous, brilliant man was happy to be dancing with her!

"Mmmm," she murmured against his chest, feeling braver and more relaxed by the moment. "You smell exactly like a man should."

"Oh?" He stilled. "And just how should a man smell?"

She smiled coyly up at him. "Like equal parts soapy clean, great cologne, and-" Lauren stood on her tip toes and breathed against his ear, "testosterone."

"Is that a fact?" He turned his head to face her, his blue-green eyes gleaming in the evening's half-light. "Well now, I'm so glad I measure up to your satisfaction." He resumed dancing, his large hand sliding lower down her back, his hard thighs brushing tantalizingly close to hers.

She lifted her head in what she hoped was a subtle hint that she wanted him to kiss her. On cue, he lowered his face to hers, first pressing the lightest of kisses against her temple, then grazing her cheek with another. Dipping lower, his gaze settled on her parted lips.

He spoke again, this time sounding far away...

"I'm sorry I took so long." Jamie appeared from the darkened hallway and returned the phone to its resting place.

Lauren lurched back to reality. Her mouth snapped shut, her eyes flew open wide at being caught dancing around the kitchen by herself with a wet plate clutched to her chest, her grip on the wet ceramic plate she clutched to her bosom momentarily becoming an uncertain thing.

He strode across the room, reached for the plate and rag, and pulled them from her unresisting hands. When his arm brushed against hers, she shivered at the contact of the cool skin of his forearm on her own overheated one. Positioning himself just to the left of her, he began to dry the rest of the dishes she had washed.

"I didn't mean to abandon you like that. And I certainly didn't mean for you to pitch in with the kitchen work again." He pulled another plate from the drying rack. "You do know this isn't necessary-I have a dishwasher."

Lauren whipped around to stare at him. Did he say what I think he just said?

"Then again, maybe you're just an old-fashioned kinda gal who doesn't go for those newfangled modern conveniences The clock on the mantle struck nine o'clock, and Lauren jumped at the sound. "Oh, gosh! I didn't realize it was so late." She bit her lip in consternation. "I hate to end this, but I have school tomorrow and I need to go in early to get some projects set up."

To her surprise, Jamie looked a bit disappointed.

"I suppose I ought to walk you downstairs. Would you like to take some of that cheesecake home with you? Just in case you feel like a little nibble later?"

I feel like a big nibble, of you! "Sure, that would be lovely."

He cut a thick slice and placed it on one of the freshly washed plates. "And if you want more later, you know where to find it." He smiled. "Just give me a minute, and I'll walk you downstairs"

"Oh, you don't need to do that." Lauren dissembled. What am I saying? Of course I want him to do that. Her desire for continued physical closeness to this man warred with her fear that she was misreading his interest. But what if I make a complete fool of myself?

"Ah, but I do. I wouldn't dream of not dropping a lady at her front door after a date." He winked at her and scooped up his keys from the countertop.

She swallowed hard and made a grab for her purse on the coffee table. He called it a 'date'. Lauren practically floated out the door and across the hall to the elevator.

The air inside was cold and stale, but for all she knew the elevator was a tropical paradise. Being near Jamie heated her blood. She sidled still closer to him.

"Hold that door," a husky feminine voice called out. A well-manicured hand reached into the elevator.

The red-head, wearing a very skimpy, spangled green mini-dress on her perfect size two frame, appeared in the doorway. Her friends joined her in similar modes of dress. Together they looked like they were ready to audition for a girl group singing contest at the Apollo. The trio sashayed into the compartment and laid claim to one corner, all the while drooling over Jamie, who for his part issued a bland h.e.l.lo but seemed amused to be the center of so much female attention.

Prodded by a jealous impulse, Lauren decided to get things back under control. "Thanks again for dinner, Jamie. And dessert." She gave a little wave of the plate.

"No, no. Thank you. I was glad to have the company tonight."

The flame-haired sylph batted her tarantula-leg eyelashes and parted her supple, raspberry-red glossed lips. She was obviously looking to introduce herself, and would probably suggest she keep him company another night, or maybe even offer to have his children. But her comment was cut off by the chime of the elevator as it reached the fifth floor. To Lauren's joy, all that came out of Ms. Red was a very unattractive squeak, as if someone had stepped on one of the tarantulas.

Jamie took her arm and escorted her from the elevator. She pressed herself into his side, aching to look back and see the expression on the trio's faces, but kept her cool instead.

Until they turned the corner.

There, standing in the hall talking to her grandmother, was none other than a hot pink lycra-encased Barbie Bronowksi, a G.o.ddess who made the redhead look like a troll.

Lauren's heart sank. It was one thing to face down the flame-haired diva-in-training. It was another to take on a living, breathing version of the Mattel nymphet, who happened to be backed by the Wicked Witch of the Northeast.

This was going to take some work!

"Oh, h.e.l.lo, Dr. Brandt!" Hobbling over to him, Gladys grabbed his large hand with her bony, birdlike one. "I just wanted to thank you again for helping me with that laundry basket this afternoon," she simpered. "Please, let me introduce you to my granddaughter Barbie. Barbie this is Dr. Brandt from upstairs. Dr. Brandt this is my granddaughter Barbie Bronowski, a peach of a girl and the apple of my eye."

Lauren wished she had a banana to gag herself with. She turned to her apartment door, brought up one knee to act as a table for the plate of cheesecake as she dug around in her purse for her keys.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bronowski."

Lauren knew exactly how that handshake was affecting Barbie. Her stomach roiled at the thought of Jamie touching the blonde bombsh.e.l.l, even in so innocent a way. Her balance began to wobble, and the plate made a dangerous dip to one side of her leg.

"And of course I'm happy to help you any time I can, Mrs. Brownoski."

Lauren overheard what sounded like a girlish giggle being filtered through gravel, and wondered if Mrs. B. ever regretted that pack-a-day habit.

"I'm so pleased to meet you." Barbie's squeaky voice drilled into Lauren's ears. "You'll have to excuse the way I'm dressed, but Gram left a message at work that I had to come over right away, so I didn't even have a chance to shower after teaching my last step aerobics cla.s.s." She giggled. "Say, you look like you're a work out kinda guy. Maybe you could stop by the fitness center sometime. I'd love to give you a rundown on our programs, especially our individualized ones. If you're looking for a relationship with a great personal trainer, I'm your girl! And I know you'll just love our club. We've got the best equipment and the most experience in town."

Lauren didn't doubt that she did.

"Thank you. I'll tuck that information away for future use." He cleared his throat. "I do hate to be rude and break up this delightful meeting, but I must be getting back to my date."

There was that word again! Lauren grabbed the plate off of her knee before Jamie could see her looking like the Karate Kid getting ready to have dessert. This time she couldn't resist, and glanced over her shoulder at the little group concentrated in the center of the hallway. Yes! Barbie and Mrs. B. were looking quite taken aback at Jamie's proposed abandonment.

Shocked, even.

Now wait a minute, it shouldn't be that impossible an idea. Lauren turned around, head lifted in defiance, the world's most saccharine smile pasted on her face. She tried to ignore the way Barbie was clinging to Jamie and running her hands over him as though a.s.sessing him for the perfect personalized exercise program right there in the hallway.

Mrs. B.'s owl-like eyes fluttered in double-time behind her gla.s.ses, her dentures clacked together. "Well, erm... yes. Of course, we'd hate to keep you from-"

"Good night, ladies." Jamie nodded in salute to the pair, pried Barbie's grasping hands from his arm then turned his attentions back to Lauren, whose aching cheeks were grateful to relax her false smile into a genuine one.

"Now then, where were we? Oh yes. I was thanking you for saving me from a dreadfully boring evening alone, and was ready to beg you to do it again sometime. Soon."

His aquamarine gaze was riveted to hers. He took her free hand, brought her knuckles to his lips, and whispered a feathery kiss against them. Lauren's knees buckled and she lost her grip on the plate, which slid to the floor with a smoosh.

Jamie scooped it up and set it beside the door. "Thank heavens for saran wrap. No harm done, if you don't mind it being a bit lopsided." He straightened and leaned in closer, whispering against her ear, "Remember, if you want more you know where to get it."

His pressed forward, his lips slanting over her mouth, and Lauren discovered she could indeed still taste the lingering flavor of chocolate cheesecake on him. Her heart started to drum in her chest; her face felt flushed with heat.

A vague awareness of being watched crept into her now-fuzzy consciousness, and she giggled into Jamie's mouth. Jamie, laughing along with her, caught her lower lip playfully between his teeth before covering her mouth with his own once more.

Somewhere beyond them, Gladys Bronowski's door clicked shut with a decided att.i.tude of disapproval, which Lauren savored almost as much as Jamie's amazing kiss.

Almost.

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