Mind Over Matter

room floor. Bracing herself, she walked down the hall back into the living room.
    There was candlelight. On the ebony table she kept by the window, candles were already burning in silver holders on a white cloth. She saw the gleam of china, the sparkle of crystal, and stood where she was as David signed a paper handed to him by a man in a black suit.
    “I hope everything is satisfactory, Mr. Brady.”
    “I’m sure it will be.”
    “We will, of course, be back for pickup at your convenience.” With a bow to David, then another to A.J., he let himself out the door.
    “David…” A.J. walked forward as if she weren’t sure of her steps. “What is this?”
    He lifted a silver cover from a plate. “It’s coq au vin.”
    “But how did you—”
    “I ordered it for eight o’clock.” He checked his watch before he walked over to retrieve his pants. “They’re very prompt.” With the ease of a totally unselfconscious man, he dropped the towel and drew on his slacks.
    She took another few steps toward the table. “It’s lovely. Really lovely.” There was a single rose in a vase. Moved, she reached out to touch it, then immediately brought her hand back to link it with her other. “I never expected anything like this.”
    He drew his sweater back over his head. “You said once you enjoyed being pampered.” She looked stunned, he realized. Had he been so unromantic? A little uncertain, he walked to her. “Maybe I enjoy doing the pampering now and then.”
    She looked over, but her throat was closed and her eyes were filling. “I’ll get dressed.”
    “No.” Her back was to him now, but he took her by the shoulders. “No, you look fine.”
    She struggled with herself, pressing her lips together until she thought she could speak. “I’ll just be a minute.” But he was turning her around. His brows were already knit together before he saw her face.
    “What’s this?” He lifted a fingertip and touched a tear that clung to her lashes.
    “It’s nothing. I—I feel foolish. Just give me a minute.”
    He brushed another tear away with his thumb. “No, I don’t think I should.” He’d seen her weep before, but that had been a torrent. There was something soft in these tears, something incredibly sweet that drew him. “Do you always cry when a man offers you a quiet dinner?”
    “No, of course not. It’s just—I never expected you to do anything like this.”
    He brought her hand to his lips and smiled as he kissed her fingers. “Just because I’m a producer doesn’t mean I can’t have some class.”
    “That’s not what I meant.” She looked up at him, smiling down at her, her hands still close to his lips. She was losing. A.J. felt her heart weaken, her will weaken and her wishes grow. “That’s not what I meant,” she said again in a whisper, and tightened her fingers on his. “David, don’t make me want too much.”
    It was what he thought he understood. If you wanted too much, you fell too hard. He’d avoided the same thing, maybe for the same reasons, until one late afternoon on a beach. “Do you really think either of us can stop now?”
    She thought of how many times she’d been rejected, easily, coolly, nervously. Friendship, affection, love could be turned off by some as quickly as a faucet. He wanted her now, A.J.reminded herself. He cared now. It had to be enough. She touched a hand to his cheek.
    “Maybe tonight we won’t think at all.”

9
    “‘I tem fifteen, clause B. I find the wording here too vague. As we discussed, my client feels very strongly about her rights and responsibilities as a new mother. The nanny will accompany the child to the set, at my client’s expense. However, she will require regular breaks in order to feed the infant. The trailer provided by you must be equipped with a portable crib and…’” For the third time during her dictation, A.J. lost her train of thought.
    “Diapers?” Diane suggested.
    “What?” A.J. turned from the window to look at her secretary.
    “Just trying to help. Want me to read it back to you?”
    “Yes, please.”
    While Diane read the words back, A.J. frowned down at the contract in her hand. “‘And a playpen,’” A.J. finished, and managed to smile at her secretary. “I’ve never seen anyone so wrapped up in motherhood.”
    “Doesn’t fit her image, does it? She always plays the heartless sex bomb.”
    “This little movie of the week should change that. Okay,finish it up with ‘Once the above