LITMIR.BIZ

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      No. He’d been too distracted by the prospect of going out with her. “Some.”

      “What kind of career did you end up with, anyway?”

      “I teach.”

      Lips quirked in a half smile, she studied him in a leisurely perusal that made his skin prickle with heat. He reached for the door, welcoming the January chill.

      “You’re a professor,” she said, as they stepped outside.

      “Good guess.”

      “Well, I can’t picture you surrounded by small children. And college is so much more serious than high school.”

      For a minute, he really wished that he taught teenagers so he could show her he wasn’t as predictable as she imagined. But you are. Depressing.

      On the other hand, coming to see her this evening had been completely out of character. Who knew what other surprises might be in store? “And you’re an event planner,” he said, curious about the path she’d taken.

      She turned to face him, walking backward down the sidewalk. “What would you have guessed? I mean, if we hadn’t run into each other and I happened to cross your mind for some reason, what would you have imagined me doing for a living?”

      Daniel felt as if the question was a test. He had a history of unintentionally insulting her, which he didn’t want to do now, but she wasn’t the type of person who would appreciate a disingenuous answer, either. “No idea. But I could have pictured you as a lawyer. You always enjoyed arguing.”

      Her laugh suggested she was not offended by this assessment. Instead, she winked at him. “I enjoy lots of things, Danny.”

      His pulse pounded in his ears. He was suddenly very grateful Felicity hadn’t accepted his proposal. The fact that Mia’s mischievous smile seemed sexier than anything that had happened to him in the past six months proved there had definitely been something missing in his last relationship.

      “Why did you come here today?” she blurted. “If it’s just because you feel like you owe me an apology for putting your foot in your mouth the other night, don’t worry about it. I was already cranky from that jackass trying to—”

      “I’m here for fun.”

      She raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. He didn’t blame her. When was the last time he’d done anything for the sheer hell of it—because it made him smile, because he liked the exhilaration of not knowing what would happen next?

      He held her gaze, feeling freer, lighter, than he had in a long time. “You said that if I had changed, we could have had fun together. Maybe I need a change.” He’d carefully planned his life, set short-and long-term goals and worked studiously toward them, yet where had his efforts landed him? Single, with a family that would drive him ever crazier as the fall election approached. And as much as he hoped the university’s board of regents granted him tenure, stressing about their answer wouldn’t improve his chances.

      “Daniel Keegan having fun.” Mia’s tone was light and teasing. “There’s a mind-blowing concept.” They’d run out of sidewalk, and she paused at the edge of the parking lot. “So where to? Did you have a specific place in mind?”

      No. He was officially making this up as he went along. The only place he wanted to be was alone with her, but that seemed like an odd thing to say to a woman he hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. “What are you in the mood for?”

      “Ever had a plantain s’more?”

      “A what, now?”

      “Baked plantain, rolled in chocolate, marshmallow and graham cracker crumbs. There’s a restaurant about fifteen minutes away that does Latin American and Caribbean food. They shouldn’t be too crowded on a Monday. Excellent dessert menu.”

      Her priorities amused him. “You always decide where to have dinner based on the desserts?”

      “Yes.” Her husky tone was both challenge and invitation. “What’s wrong with enjoying the evening more because you know it’s leading up to something deliciously decadent?”

      “I can’t argue with that.” The longer his gaze held hers, the more he wanted to hear about her ideas of decadence. He broke the connection, glancing toward his car. “I’m, ah, parked over there. Do you want me to follow you to the restaurant?”

      “To be perfectly honest, I spent the afternoon in traffic and am in no hurry to get back behind the wheel. Do you mind driving? I can give you directions to the restaurant, then you can bring me back here. If that’s not taking you too far out of your way.”

      “Not at all.” He might be out a little later than expected, but that might be a good thing. If he went to bed later than usual, would he stop waking up at three thirty or four in the morning, unable to fall back asleep?

      He’d had insomnia since New Year’s. During that window of time when he tossed and turned, pretending he might actually fall back asleep, it wasn’t Felicity who haunted him so much as his family’s faces when he’d told them. Poor Daniel had hung in the air like suffocating smog. His two older brothers were both married and unquestionably successful. Had he imagined the hint of smugness in their condolences? Daniel’s birthday was in a few weeks, which meant the usual family dinner. God willing, he’d have tenure by then. He would not be the failure in the Keegan family.

      He led Mia to his car and opened the passenger door for her, which earned him a bemused smile.

      “The polished manners of gallant Daniel Keegan,” she said softly.

      “Is that a roundabout way of saying I’m old-fashioned?” His own friends called him stuffy. To a free spirit like Mia, he must seem downright rigid.

      “It’s a roundabout way of saying I’m surprised you’re voluntarily spending time with me. I’m not known for demure refinement...as you pointed out more than once when we went to school together.”

      He flinched. In retrospect, he’d been a bit of a self-righteous ass when he was younger. Luckily, the longer he’d been out of his parents’ house, the less he judged others through the Keegans’ narrow worldview. When he’d met Mia, he’d found her both fascinating and discomfiting. He’d been raised not to steal attention from his brothers, who were clearly Going Places, raised never to do anything controversial or scandalous. His job was to blend, to be polite and unobtrusively charming.

      Mia Hayes did not blend.

      When he climbed in on his side of the car, he told her, “I’m sorry if there were times I was a sanctimonious jerk.”

      “If?” But she smiled, looking pleased by his apology.

      “You were so different from most of the girls I’d known.” And not because he’d rarely seen tattoos and turquoise-streaked hair at his parents’ country club. “You seemed to thrive on friction.”

      “Under the right circumstances, friction can feel pretty damn good.”

      His brain lit up with images of bodies rubbing against each other, and it was on the tip of his tongue to say to hell with the restaurant and ask her back to his apartment.

      But then she instructed, “Make a left at the intersection,” and he shifted his focus to driving. More or less.

      As they waited at the red light, he told her, “I know we were never friends in college, but I did admire you. I respected your smarts—”

      “Even when I got a higher grade than you did?” she needled.

      The gallant response would be yes. “On two projects, Hayes.” He’d busted his ass to earn an impressive GPA. “As I recall, I finished with a higher final score in both classes we had together.”

      “Because you were teacher’s pet, dutifully regurgitating what the professors told us instead of exploring more divisive interpretations.”

      “Arguing

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