A Silken Thread by Brenda Jackson

walking over toward her table. She could feel herself tremble with every slow and methodical step that he took. He was staring at her with the same intensity that she was staring at him. What was she going to say to him? She had failed miserably at keeping him at bay.
    She cleared her throat when he came to a stop in front of her table and she had to tilt her head back to look up at him.
    “Rita.”
    She swallowed before she managed to say, “Wilson.”
    “You look lovely tonight.”
    “Thank you.”
    He jammed his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Did you enjoy dinner?”
    She hesitated a moment before saying, “Yes. Did you?”
    He chuckled. “Funny thing, I never got around to ordering anything. I guess I was fine with my drink.”
    The proper thing to do was to ask him to join her, since she felt bad being caught in a lie. “If you continue to stand I’m going to get a crook in my neck looking up at you,” she said in a teasing tone, trying to make light of the situation she had backed herself into. “Would you like to join me?”
    He nodded. “Yes,” he said, pulling out a chair and taking it.
    She leaned back and crossed her legs. “How long have you been in here?”
    He seemed to have studied her movement and his gaze moved from her legs up to her face. “Awhile. I saw you when you walked in.”
    “Why didn’t you let me know you were here?”
    He shrugged. “I figured you would prefer it that way.”
    Because of what she’d said earlier when he’d invited her to dinner. There was nothing she could say…but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t try.
    “Wilson, I—”
    “There’s no need to explain, Rita.”
    She was quiet for a long moment as she thought about what he’d said. No, there was no need to explain. But she felt she needed to anyway.
    “You’re married.”
    If he found that statement odd he didn’t show it. “Yes, I am married.”
    She released a shuddering breath. Not that he needed to confirm such a thing, but for some reason she needed to make sure his marital status was out there, planted firmly in both of their minds.
    “And I have never been unfaithful to my wife during the entire thirty years of our marriage.”
    She nodded. That was good to hear. Had he said that to let her know that—although there might be some crazy vibes still flowing between them, vibes that seemed more heated now than earlier—he was a happily married man? For some reason she doubted the happily married part. Her aunt Grace had once told her that being married meant more than sharing names on a marriage certificate. It meant being one with the other. As she had been with Patrick.
    Remembering the man she had loved deeply made her take another sip of her wine and she couldn’t help noticing her glass was almost empty. Her server had already noticed before she had and he was back refilling her glass. She should tell him she’d had enough, but decided not to do so.
    The man then turned to Wilson. “Sir, would you like a refill?”
    “Yes.”
    “And will you be joining the madam here?”
    He gave her a quick glance before returning his attention back to the server and saying, “Yes.”
    The server then quickly moved away and they were alone again. Wilson’s gaze reclaimed hers. “Now, you were saying…”
    She managed a shrug, not sure she was capable of saying anything. She took a sip of her wine. “Nothing. I think you’ve said it all, Wilson.”
    He chuckled, and the rich, husky sound was something to be admired. Really it was. There was something so invigorating about him. She thought that Karen Sanders was a very lucky woman and wondered if she knew that.
    “Have you been enjoying the music?” he asked her.
    “Yes, very much so. I’ve always enjoyed good music and was trying to compare this club with one back home.”
    A smile touched his lips. “The music is somewhat different, although I’ve always been a fan of Lars Gullin and the Swedish jazz sound. The man was one hell of