LITMIR.BIZ

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shook his head. ‘Naw, I’m okay.’ He sat down on the floor with his back to the wall.

      She started up the stairs to her apartment. ‘If you change your mind, just come on up, okay?’

      ‘Okay.’

      He did not come up. Half an hour later she went downstairs with a glass of apple juice and some cookies. ‘I thought you might like something to eat.’

      He put down the comic book he was reading and looked up in surprise. He took the glass and the small plate from her. ‘Thanks.’

      ‘You’re welcome. When does your dad come home usually?’

      He shrugged again. ‘Different times.’ He bit into one of the cookies. ‘These are good,’ he said.

      ‘I made them myself. I’m famous for my chocolatechip coconut cookies all over Africa.’ This was rather an exaggeration, but it did get his attention.

      ‘Really?’ he asked. ‘Did you live in Africa?’

      She nodded. ‘Several places. Last I was in Cameroon. I taught English at a boarding-school, and I was the girls’ counselor too.’

      His face closed up. ‘Oh,’ he said, and glanced back at his comic book.

      Berating herself for her stupidity, Zoe went back up the stairs into her own apartment and left the door ajar, hoping to hear Bryant’s arrival home. Paul was twelve, old enough to be on his own for a couple of hours when it was necessary.

      It was five-thirty when she heard voices in the hall below. Bryant. Not so late.

      Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on her door and Bryant stood in front of her, suit jacket gone, tie gone, shirt-sleeves rolled up. He handed her back the glass and small plate she’d given Paul earlier.

      ‘Thank you,’ he said, smiling. ‘That was very nice of you.’

      His hand was brown and strong, she noticed as she took the things from him. ‘I asked him to come up here, but he refused,’ she said, trying not to be affected by this tall, vibrantly sexy man standing in front of her. It was hopeless. Her heart fluttered crazily and her blood tingled.

      ‘He told me.’ His blue eyes held hers, as if looking for something. ‘I’d like to take you to dinner tonight,’ he said.

      She laughed. ‘Because I gave Paul some cookies?’

      His mouth quirked. ‘No, because I want to. Paul’s going to spend the weekend with his cousin in Philadelphia. He’ll be picked up in half an hour. I thought it would be a good opportunity to try out that little Thai restaurant on M Street and for us to get better acquainted.’

      The gods are with me, she thought with sudden excitement. Maybe this was the opportunity she’d been looking for, an opportunity to find out more about what was going on. Maybe Bryant had changed his mind and decided he wanted to talk about Paul. Perhaps talking over dinner was easier than in her office, and in a casual atmosphere she had more chance to reach him.

      ‘Do you like Thai food?’ he asked.

      She smiled. ‘Oh, yes. I love fire and spice.’ Oh, God, she thought, shut up.

      A gleam in his eyes, a faint smile. ‘Is that a yes?’

      

      She tried to look sober, not to give him any ideas. ‘Yes, it is,’ she said evenly.

      She stood in front of her closet finding something to wear. It was no use fooling herself—her concern for Paul was not the only reason she was interested in having dinner with Bryant. Bryant alone would have been incentive enough, but she was aware of very conflicting feelings. She was interested in this man, yet she was also wary.

      She frowned. What to wear? There was not a whole lot of choice; since coming back home she’d had to buy a whole new wardrobe and most of her clothes now consisted of suits and dresses she wore to the office and casual sports wear. She took out a short, casual dress of multicolored silk with a wide belt Fall colors—fiery orange, wine-red, glowing copper, golden yellow-colors that looked perfect with her chestnut hair and brown eyes, as the sales lady at Woodies had pointed out rather enthusiastically.

      She put the dress on the bed and blow-dried her hair, thanking Mother Nature for her easy, manageable hair. It curled happily all by itself and she just let it do what it wanted to do. It hung just to her shoulders and often she put it up to keep it out of her face, but tonight she’d let it hang loose.

      She slipped on the dress, put in gold hoop earrings and stepped into high-heeled shoes. Some carefully applied make-up, a dab of perfume and she was ready.

      She picked up her purse and a soft knit jacket against the evening chill, and went down the stairs. Bryant came out of his door as she reached the hall. His glance moved over her discreetly and the look in his eyes left nothing to the imagination: he liked what he saw.

      ‘I’m ready,’ she said unnecessarily.

      ‘Shall we walk?’ he asked. ‘It’s not far.’

      ‘It’s nice out, sure.’ She hoped her feet would manage in her high heels; they weren’t used to such fashionable footwear.

      It wasn’t quite dark yet. It seemed strange to be walking side by side with this man, who was a stranger, and to feel this odd light-headedness at his presence. He wore camel trousers, a dark blazer and a shirt and tie, but even in the less formal clothes he looked impressive. He moved with an easy stride as if he enjoyed walking and was in no particular hurry.

      Once at the restaurant they didn’t talk about Paul. They talked about his work in Argentina and her work in Africa. Suddenly it was hard to think of Paul, of the things she’d wanted to say.

      ‘Why did you come back to the States?’ he asked, pushing his empty soup bowl aside.

      ‘I woke up one morning and there was a message painted on my ceiling. It said, Go home! Be normal! Exclamation marks.’

      He quirked a brow. ‘Really?’

      She grinned. ‘Well, sort of. Maybe it wasn’t actually on the ceiling. Maybe it was my imagination, or my subconscious giving me a message.’

      He studied her face for a moment. ‘So, you want to be normal?’

      She put her spoon down. ‘I thought I’d give it a try.

      It sounds so nice and comfortable.’

      One corner of his mouth twitched upward. ‘What made you go to Africa in the first place?’

      She smiled. ‘I was bored with nice and comfortable. I needed a challenge, an adventure.’

      He nodded. Obviously it was a sentiment he could identify with.

      ‘I started off in the Peace Corps,’ she went on. ‘It was quite an adventure, let me tell you, and one thing led to another and before I knew it I’d been gone six years. I’m twenty-nine. I thought it was time to come home and.settle down, work on my career here. Be normal.’

      ‘Some people end up staying overseas forever,’ he commented.

      She twirled the stem of her wine glass. ‘Yes. I have a friend who’s been gone seventeen years, and I don’t think he’ll ever come back. I don’t think he could ever adjust.’

      ‘Are you finding it hard to adjust now?’

      ‘In some ways, yes, very.’ She grinned. ‘Shopping is a major problem. All those choices! The decisions! But it’s great being back. I love the fall, and the air is so clean and crisp, like drinking spring water. In Cameroon the air was so humid at times, you could ladle it up like soup.’

      He looked into her eyes, saying nothing for a moment. ‘You have beautiful eyes,’ he said then. ‘Warm and smiling. You must be a happy person.’

      She laughed, taken aback a little. ‘Oh, I think I am, most of the time.’

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