first meet someone through a friend or through work.” He’d met Bry, a cop, when he was researching his first Kalti Brown book. He’d needed information about the structure of the police department, how crimes were investigated, and so on. “You hit it off, go for a beer, talk about something other than work. Find common interests. Discover you think the same way about things, have the same values.”
Her eyes were narrowed in concentration. “Go on.”
“The relationship grows. Pals turn into good buds who are there for each other, no matter what.”
Now there was a sheen in her eyes. Was she thinking of a close friend? Or maybe wishing that’s how it was with her sisters?
“So,” Damien said, “what if you had that kind of thing with someone of the opposite sex? A solid friendship plus great sex. Maybe that’d be worth building on, rather than moving on to the next lover.”
“Yes, I…” She swallowed. “I think it sounds wonderful.” Her voice was choked up, like she was on the verge of tears.
Suddenly he realized that he must have made her think of her ex-husband. “Crap. Sorry, Theresa. I didn’t mean to remind you of your marriage. I’m an idiot.”
“No. But, surprisingly,” a tiny smile flashed, “you’re a bit of a romantic.” The smile disappeared. “And, while that kind of relationship does sound great, how do you know it’s real? That you can trust in it?”
“That it’ll beat the statistical odds? I dunno. Gut instinct? Leap of faith?” He wondered whether she’d fallen out of love with her husband, or vice versa.
Knowing that the enforced companionship of a long flight could breed its own kind of trust and openness, he tested the waters. “I’m sorry your marriage didn’t work out.”
“I made a big mistake, falling for Jeffrey. I learned I couldn’t trust him.”
“Damn. He cheated on you?” The guy must’ve been a right bastard and a fool.
A corner of her mouth turned up ruefully. “Not in the way you’re thinking. Not with another woman. And in fact, he didn’t exactly cheat on me, he cheated me out of recognition.”
I’m intrigued.”
She made a face, picked up her wineglass, and drained it. “For this, I need more wine.”
He leaned into the aisle, caught Carmen’s eye, and held up his own empty glass. She gave him a nod, then turned toward the galley.
She returned with the wine bottle, filled their glasses, and gathered up their entrée plates and silverware. “For dessert, we have a cheese and fruit platter, lemon cheesecake with pomegranate glaze, and chocolate Cointreau mousse.”
“The mousse, please,” Theresa said.
“Cheese and fruit,” Damien said.
“I’ll be right back. Coffee, tea?”
Theresa ordered decaf coffee and Damien asked for the same. Then, when the two of them were alone again, he said, “Go on. Tell me what happened with your ex.”
She took a drink of wine, another, then put the glass down decisively. “When we met, he was a tenured sociology professor at the University of Saskatchewan. With my brand-new PhD, specializing in indigenous studies, I’d just won an appointment in their native studies program. I had an idea for a research project, and went to him to get his opinion.”
She grimaced. “He was enthusiastic. About not only the project, but me as well. We started dating and he helped me put together a grant application. We had a whirlwind courtship—in a way that would probably strike you as hopelessly dull and academic, but all the same it seemed romantic to me—and got married two months after we’d met.”
“He swept you off your feet. I wouldn’t have taken you for the type.” Damien felt a twinge of jealousy, and also annoyance at the jerk who’d hurt Theresa and made her so cynical. He wanted to touch her, offer comfort, but her arms were wrapped protectively around her body and he sensed she wouldn’t welcome it.
“I was young. Naïve. Dazzled by his interest,” she said grimly.
Her eyes were narrowed in concentration. “Go on.”
“The relationship grows. Pals turn into good buds who are there for each other, no matter what.”
Now there was a sheen in her eyes. Was she thinking of a close friend? Or maybe wishing that’s how it was with her sisters?
“So,” Damien said, “what if you had that kind of thing with someone of the opposite sex? A solid friendship plus great sex. Maybe that’d be worth building on, rather than moving on to the next lover.”
“Yes, I…” She swallowed. “I think it sounds wonderful.” Her voice was choked up, like she was on the verge of tears.
Suddenly he realized that he must have made her think of her ex-husband. “Crap. Sorry, Theresa. I didn’t mean to remind you of your marriage. I’m an idiot.”
“No. But, surprisingly,” a tiny smile flashed, “you’re a bit of a romantic.” The smile disappeared. “And, while that kind of relationship does sound great, how do you know it’s real? That you can trust in it?”
“That it’ll beat the statistical odds? I dunno. Gut instinct? Leap of faith?” He wondered whether she’d fallen out of love with her husband, or vice versa.
Knowing that the enforced companionship of a long flight could breed its own kind of trust and openness, he tested the waters. “I’m sorry your marriage didn’t work out.”
“I made a big mistake, falling for Jeffrey. I learned I couldn’t trust him.”
“Damn. He cheated on you?” The guy must’ve been a right bastard and a fool.
A corner of her mouth turned up ruefully. “Not in the way you’re thinking. Not with another woman. And in fact, he didn’t exactly cheat on me, he cheated me out of recognition.”
I’m intrigued.”
She made a face, picked up her wineglass, and drained it. “For this, I need more wine.”
He leaned into the aisle, caught Carmen’s eye, and held up his own empty glass. She gave him a nod, then turned toward the galley.
She returned with the wine bottle, filled their glasses, and gathered up their entrée plates and silverware. “For dessert, we have a cheese and fruit platter, lemon cheesecake with pomegranate glaze, and chocolate Cointreau mousse.”
“The mousse, please,” Theresa said.
“Cheese and fruit,” Damien said.
“I’ll be right back. Coffee, tea?”
Theresa ordered decaf coffee and Damien asked for the same. Then, when the two of them were alone again, he said, “Go on. Tell me what happened with your ex.”
She took a drink of wine, another, then put the glass down decisively. “When we met, he was a tenured sociology professor at the University of Saskatchewan. With my brand-new PhD, specializing in indigenous studies, I’d just won an appointment in their native studies program. I had an idea for a research project, and went to him to get his opinion.”
She grimaced. “He was enthusiastic. About not only the project, but me as well. We started dating and he helped me put together a grant application. We had a whirlwind courtship—in a way that would probably strike you as hopelessly dull and academic, but all the same it seemed romantic to me—and got married two months after we’d met.”
“He swept you off your feet. I wouldn’t have taken you for the type.” Damien felt a twinge of jealousy, and also annoyance at the jerk who’d hurt Theresa and made her so cynical. He wanted to touch her, offer comfort, but her arms were wrapped protectively around her body and he sensed she wouldn’t welcome it.
“I was young. Naïve. Dazzled by his interest,” she said grimly.
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