around one o’clock.”
“Where is she?”
“Metro West Detention Center.”
“What’s that like?”
“It’s not the Four Seasons.”
“Well, then, maybe she won’t kill anybody else.” Amanda shakes her head, as if to ask, Can this really be happening? Are we actually having this conversation? “Will there be any problem getting me in?”
Ben shakes his head. “I’ll tell them you’re my assistant.”
Amanda ignores the playful twinkle in his eyes. “Does she know I’m here?”
“No.”
“You think that’s a good idea? She’s not big on surprises.”
“I didn’t want to say anything in case …”
“I didn’t show up?”
“Something like that.”
She glances back out the window, sees the words
Second Skin
printed large across the side of a low brick building. What a good idea, she thinks, shivering inside her black coat. I could use a second skin right now.
“Still cold?” Ben adjusts the heater. A fresh gust of hot air blows against her feet.
“I guess I forgot how cold it gets here at this time of year.”
“Some years are worse than others.”
Amanda nods, studying him in profile. His nose is longer than she remembers, his cheekbones more defined. A handsome man by any standards, she thinks, feeling an old twinge, willing herself to look away. “So, how’ve you been?” she asks after a pause of several seconds.
“I’m fine.”
“You like being a lawyer?”
“I do. And you?”
“I do.” She laughs. “We sound like we’re getting married.”
He smiles weakly. “I think once was enough, don’t you?”
She nods. “You haven’t remarried?” His hands are hidden inside massive black leather gloves, but she doesn’t recall noticing a wedding ring in the airport. She wonders what he did with his old wedding band, if it was easier to let go of than his old Corvette.
He shakes his head no.
“Girlfriend?”
“A friend,” he admits after a pause, clearly reluctant to share the details of his personal life with her.
“A friend who’s a girl,” she teases, although she finds herself curiously annoyed at the idea he might be involved with someone else. Why? she wonders, surprised by this almost visceral reaction. She’s been through dozens of men in the years since she left, including another marriage and divorce. Did she seriously think he’d been pining for her all these years, just waiting for her to come to her senses and return home? Is she evenremotely interested in rekindling the fragile spark that obviously still exists between them? She scoffs out loud, pushes the troubling thought from her brain.
“Something wrong?”
“What does your girlfriend do?” Amanda asks, ignoring the question and deciding that while it might be nice to sleep with Ben, for old times’ sake, she certainly isn’t in the market for anything more. Been there, she reminds herself. Done that.
“She’s a lawyer.”
“She isn’t.”
“With the Crown Attorney’s Office.”
The crown attorney was the Canadian equivalent of the U.S. district attorney. “So you’ve been sleeping with the enemy.”
Ben says nothing. Amanda notices the sharp creases around the knuckles of his black leather gloves as his fingers tighten their grip on the steering wheel.
Who’d have thought? she thinks, then repeats out loud, “Who’d have thought?”
“What?”
“Everything.”
He nods. “Who’d have thought?” he agrees.
EIGHT
T RAFFIC along the highway is mercifully light, although everything slows to a crawl once they reach the Allen Expressway. Somewhere between Lawrence Avenue and Eglinton, Amanda closes her eyes and pretends to be dozing. She has no desire to see the changes to the city time has wrought, and even less desire to pursue the conversation. Amazingly, the ruse drifts into reality, and Amanda awakens just as Ben is pulling into the driveway of the beautiful midtown hotel.
“I fell asleep?”
“Snores and all,” Ben confirms.
“I snored?”
“I
“Where is she?”
“Metro West Detention Center.”
“What’s that like?”
“It’s not the Four Seasons.”
“Well, then, maybe she won’t kill anybody else.” Amanda shakes her head, as if to ask, Can this really be happening? Are we actually having this conversation? “Will there be any problem getting me in?”
Ben shakes his head. “I’ll tell them you’re my assistant.”
Amanda ignores the playful twinkle in his eyes. “Does she know I’m here?”
“No.”
“You think that’s a good idea? She’s not big on surprises.”
“I didn’t want to say anything in case …”
“I didn’t show up?”
“Something like that.”
She glances back out the window, sees the words
Second Skin
printed large across the side of a low brick building. What a good idea, she thinks, shivering inside her black coat. I could use a second skin right now.
“Still cold?” Ben adjusts the heater. A fresh gust of hot air blows against her feet.
“I guess I forgot how cold it gets here at this time of year.”
“Some years are worse than others.”
Amanda nods, studying him in profile. His nose is longer than she remembers, his cheekbones more defined. A handsome man by any standards, she thinks, feeling an old twinge, willing herself to look away. “So, how’ve you been?” she asks after a pause of several seconds.
“I’m fine.”
“You like being a lawyer?”
“I do. And you?”
“I do.” She laughs. “We sound like we’re getting married.”
He smiles weakly. “I think once was enough, don’t you?”
She nods. “You haven’t remarried?” His hands are hidden inside massive black leather gloves, but she doesn’t recall noticing a wedding ring in the airport. She wonders what he did with his old wedding band, if it was easier to let go of than his old Corvette.
He shakes his head no.
“Girlfriend?”
“A friend,” he admits after a pause, clearly reluctant to share the details of his personal life with her.
“A friend who’s a girl,” she teases, although she finds herself curiously annoyed at the idea he might be involved with someone else. Why? she wonders, surprised by this almost visceral reaction. She’s been through dozens of men in the years since she left, including another marriage and divorce. Did she seriously think he’d been pining for her all these years, just waiting for her to come to her senses and return home? Is she evenremotely interested in rekindling the fragile spark that obviously still exists between them? She scoffs out loud, pushes the troubling thought from her brain.
“Something wrong?”
“What does your girlfriend do?” Amanda asks, ignoring the question and deciding that while it might be nice to sleep with Ben, for old times’ sake, she certainly isn’t in the market for anything more. Been there, she reminds herself. Done that.
“She’s a lawyer.”
“She isn’t.”
“With the Crown Attorney’s Office.”
The crown attorney was the Canadian equivalent of the U.S. district attorney. “So you’ve been sleeping with the enemy.”
Ben says nothing. Amanda notices the sharp creases around the knuckles of his black leather gloves as his fingers tighten their grip on the steering wheel.
Who’d have thought? she thinks, then repeats out loud, “Who’d have thought?”
“What?”
“Everything.”
He nods. “Who’d have thought?” he agrees.
EIGHT
T RAFFIC along the highway is mercifully light, although everything slows to a crawl once they reach the Allen Expressway. Somewhere between Lawrence Avenue and Eglinton, Amanda closes her eyes and pretends to be dozing. She has no desire to see the changes to the city time has wrought, and even less desire to pursue the conversation. Amazingly, the ruse drifts into reality, and Amanda awakens just as Ben is pulling into the driveway of the beautiful midtown hotel.
“I fell asleep?”
“Snores and all,” Ben confirms.
“I snored?”
“I
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