LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Good. Although I feel like I’m a thousand years older than everyone else.”

      Actually Cecilia had left high school only four years ago. He was two years older than she was.

      “Your car’s not giving you problems, is it?”

      “No.” She sounded almost defiant.

      “That’s good.” He wanted her to know how strongly he approved of her going back to school. They’d had a number of arguments over her working at the restaurant; Cecilia thought it was because he was jealous of her being around other men. Maybe that was a small part of his reaction, but there was more. He felt Cecilia was wasting her abilities, her potential. She was smart, a whole lot smarter than she gave herself credit for.

      She glanced at him, and Ian had to resist an impulse to reach across the table and put his hand over hers. Sometimes he ached just wanting to touch her. It’d been months since he’d held her in his arms or kissed her. After Allison, it seemed that whatever she’d felt for him physically had died, too.

      “My car’s only two years old,” he said.

      She didn’t respond, as if she thought he was bragging or something.

      “I know you’re wondering why I asked to meet you, and it has to do with my car.” He had her attention, he noticed; that was a start. “I want you to drive it while I’m away.” He could see from her reaction that she was going to argue with him. “It’s more dependable, especially in the mornings,” he added quickly, hoping she’d see the wisdom of accepting his offer.

      Cecilia shook her head. “I appreciate it, but—”

      “Actually you’d be doing me a favor.” Ian could tell she didn’t believe him. “I mean it.”

      “But…”

      “It’s not good to have an engine sit idle for six months,” he said in authoritative tones. “A lot of guys lend out their cars while they’re deployed for that very reason.” Ian didn’t know if this was true or not, but it made sense.

      “I…I don’t know.”

      Their meals arrived, and Ian studied Cecilia’s dish. Chicken breast on cooked spinach, he thought, with peanut sauce ladled over top. He hadn’t known she liked spinach. That was a pretty minor thing but it made him realize there was still a great deal they didn’t know about each other.

      “What do you think?” he asked. “About the car…”

      “We’re getting a divorce, Ian.”

      He didn’t welcome the reminder. “That doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

      “But…”

      “The choice is yours, but like I said, I’ll be lending it out and if you want to use it, fine. If not, I’ll leave it with a friend.” He probably wouldn’t, but he wanted her to think so.

      “You don’t have to do this.”

      “I’d worry about you less.” That wasn’t the smartest thing to admit. However, it was the truth. If she was driving twenty-plus miles every morning in the heavy shipyard traffic, he’d prefer to know she was in a more reliable vehicle than the dilapidated car she currently drove.

      She smiled then, and it was as if everything in the world had righted itself. “This is really thoughtful of you.”

      Damn, it was hard not to touch her. He shrugged off her words. “It’s more for me and my car than anything.”

      Her smile dimmed.

      “And like I said, you’d be doing me a favor.”

      They ate their dinner and lingered over tea. After an hour and a half, the restaurant was getting full, and their waitress was sending some obvious signals their way. But Ian didn’t want the evening to end.

      “How about a movie?” he suggested, hoping she’d agree but afraid she wouldn’t.

      To his surprise, she smiled and nodded.

      Ian felt a surge of happiness…and optimism. He didn’t care what they saw, as long as he could sit at her side and pretend the last eight months had never happened.

      He let Cecilia choose the movie, and while he bought the tickets, she picked up a bag of buttered popcorn. They sat in the back row of the theater. Because it was a Thursday night, the place was practically deserted. Only one other couple showed up before the previews, and they sat near the front.

      Ian placed his arm along the back of Cecilia’s seat.

      “We went to dinner at the Thai restaurant and then a movie on our first date, too,” she said casually.

      As though Ian had forgotten. “Did we?”

      “Yes.” Cecilia scooped up a handful of popcorn.

      “Did I kiss you?”

      She looked at him and blinked hard. “You mean you don’t remember?”

      He squeezed her shoulder. “I remember everything about that date,” he whispered. And every subsequent one. For the first month after they’d met, she was all he thought about. It was no thanks to him the Navy had survived, since his mind certainly wasn’t on his job.

      In addition to etiquette, his father had taught Ian about birth control. But every lesson he’d ever learned had vanished the first time they’d made love. He wasn’t usually irresponsible, but he’d been so crazy about Cecilia they’d both taken wild chances. He didn’t care, because he loved her. If she did get pregnant, that would be all the excuse he needed to marry her. He wanted to marry her. With an attitude like that, it was bound to happen sooner or later—and for them it had been sooner.

      It took him weeks to talk her into marrying him. That hadn’t been easy on his ego. Her parents’ failed relationship had left her with a real anxiety about marriage. The irony was that now she was the one who wanted out.

      “I still remember our first kiss,” she said in a soft voice.

      “You do?” Ian was surprised she’d admit it.

      “No man had ever kissed me the way you do…did.”

      “Do,” he corrected, and then not giving a damn if anyone saw him, he leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. That kiss was an experiment to see how receptive she was. When her mouth parted and her tongue met his, Ian could hardly keep from groaning aloud. Her lips were soft and slippery from the butter and she tasted like popcorn and salt. His heart went wild; he loved her so much.

      He knew he should stop. They weren’t teenagers without a place to go for privacy. Nor did Ian want anyone to find him necking with his wife in the back of a theater. But those thoughts had barely made it into his head when he found any number of compelling reasons to continue doing exactly what he was doing.

      “Ian,” she whispered, and slowly, reluctantly eased her mouth from his.

      Ian kept his eyes closed and leaned his forehead against hers.

      “Thank you for letting me use your car.”

      He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but he was afraid she’d pull away and the moment would be ruined.

      “I’ll take good care of it for you,” she promised.

      “I’d rather you took good care of yourself,” he whispered back.

      The movie started then, and Cecilia settled back, her head resting on his shoulder. He slid one arm around her; she didn’t object. Ian had no idea what the movie was about. He thought only of Cecilia, remembering the early days of their relationship and reveling in her nearness.

      When the movie ended they walked slowly out of the theater, but Ian wasn’t ready to leave her. “I want to come home with you,” he said, standing next to her car, the driver’s door open.

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