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wife.”
    Amanda waits for Kelly to protest—
Oh, no. I’m sure you were a wonderful wife
—but no such protest is forthcoming. “What do you think he wants?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “He said it was really important.”
    Amanda nods, feels her body tense.
    “Are you going to call him later?”
    “No.”
    Silence. Her secretary sways from one foot to the other. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll go home now.”
    Amanda nods her approval, even as Kelly remains rooted to the spot. “Is there something else?” Amanda ventures warily.
    Kelly approaches, extends a small piece of paper toward her boss. “His home phone number,” she says, depositing the pink memo slip carefully on Amanda’s desk. “In case you change your mind.”

THREE
    T HREE reasons why Amanda knows Carter Reese is married even before he admits it: number one, the little out-of-the-way spot he has chosen for dinner is so little and out-of-the-way that Amanda, who knows the area well, drives twice through the nondescript strip mall in which it is located before finally spotting it cramped between a pet store and a discount shoe outlet; number two, it is so dark inside the windowless space that she can barely see what she is eating, although she notices her companion glances nervously toward the front door every time he hears it open; number three, he is constantly touching the ring finger of his left hand, as if to make sure he remembered to remove his wedding band, a nervous habit and dead giveaway.
    “It’s okay,” she tells him finally, finishing the last of her mussels and deciding to put him out of his misery. “I have no problem with your being married.”
    “What?” Even in the dim light, the shock is clearly visible on his face.
    “It doesn’t bother me that you’re married,” Amanda says earnestly. “In fact, it makes things easier.”
    “What?” Carter Reese says again.
    “I’m not looking for a serious relationship; I have a very demanding career; I’ve got a million things on my plate at the moment; and it’s much less complicated this way. So you can relax. You don’t have to lie to me. Most of the time, anyway,” she adds with a smile.
    There is a moment’s silence while Carter Reese tries to decide if this is one of those times. The candle in the middle of the table flickers precariously as he exhales. “Is this some kind of test?”
    Amanda laughs. “I’m just saying it’s not important, that’s all.”
    Carter leans back in his chair, shakes his head, folds his muscular arms across his chest, stares off into the darkness.
    “Is there a problem?” Amanda asks.
    “To be honest, I’m not quite sure how to take this.”
    “What do you mean?”
    He laughs self-consciously. “Well, truthfully, I don’t know whether to be ecstatic or insulted.”
    Amanda reaches across the table for his hand. “It was certainly never my intention to insult you.”
    Another deep exhalation. “Okay, then.” A smile that wavers precariously between
I must be the luckiest guy on earth
and
There’s got to be a catch here somewhere.
“Okay, then,” he repeats, squeezing her fingers. “Ecstasy it is.”
    Amanda laughs. “Good. Now that that’s out of the way, maybe we can order dessert.” She looks around for their waiter, but sees only vague shapes moving in the background.
    “Is there anything you’d like to know?” Carter asks.
    “About what?”
    “About my marriage.”
    Amanda gives the question a moment’s thought. Clearly he feels he owes her some sort of explanation, but truthfully, there is nothing about his marriage she wants to know. She senses, however, that he will be hurt if she says this, so she settles for the obvious: “How long have you been married?”
    “Fifteen years. Two kids. A boy, Jason, he’s thirteen, and a girl, Rochelle, who’ll be eleven in March. Sandy’s an artist,” he continues unprompted, as if his wife were standing at his side, waiting to be introduced. “She paints. She’s