The Villa

do we." She gave Pilar's arm a little squeeze, even as she sized up her dinner companion. "I hope your mother's well."
    "Very, thank you."
    "I have to get along. Can't leave poor Charlie floundering with those two. So nice to meet you, Mr. Cutter. Pilar, I'm going to call you next week. We'll have lunch."
    "I'll count on it," Pilar replied, then picked up her wine as Susan glided off. "I'm sorry. The Valley's not much more than a small town in some ways. It's hard to go anywhere without running into people you know."
    "Then why apologize for it?"
    "It's awkward." She set down her wine again, left her fingers on the stem to run up and down. "And as my mother predicted, people will talk."
    "Really?" He took her hand from the glass. "Then let's give them something to talk about." He brought her hand to his lips, nibbled lightly on the knuckles. "I like Susan," David said as Pilar stared at him. "She gave me the opening to do this. What," he wondered aloud, "do you suppose she'll say to Laura tomorrow when she calls her?"
    "I can only imagine. David." There were thrills rocketing up her arm. Even when she slid her hand from his they shivered along the skin. "I'm not looking for… anything."
    "That's funny, neither was I. Until I saw you." He leaned forward, intimately. "Let's do something sinful."
    The blood rushed to her head. "What?"
    "Let's"—his voice dropped into a seductive whisper—"order dessert."
    The breath that had clogged in her lungs came out in a laughing whoosh. "Perfect."
    And it was perfect, the drive home in the night under chilly stars and a cold white moon. Music playing softly on the radio as they debated, with some heat, a book they'd both recently read. Later, she'd think how odd it was to have felt so relaxed and so stimulated all at once.
    She nearly sighed as she saw the lights of the villa. Nearly home, she thought. She'd started out the evening almost swallowed by her own nerves, and was ending it with regret that it couldn't have lasted longer.
    "Kids are still up," David commented, noting the guest house was lit up like a Vegas casino. "I'll have to kill them."
    "Yes, I've noticed what a terrifying and brutal father you are. And how your children fear you."
    He slanted her a look. "I wouldn't mind seeing the occasional tremble out of them."
    "I think it's way too late for that. You've gone and raised two happy, well-adjusted kids."
    "Still working on it." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Theo got into some trouble back in New York. Shoplifting, sneaking out of the apartment. His grades, never stellar, plummeted."
    "I'm sorry, David. The teenage years can be hard on everyone. Harder still when you're a single parent. I could tell you some hair-raising stories about Sophia at that age. Your son is a nice young man. I imagine that sort of behavior was just normal acting out."
    "Gave me the jolt I suppose I needed. I was letting him run just a little too free because it was easier. Not enough hours in the day, not enough energy left at the end of it. It was harder on Maddy than Theo when their mother left, so I compensated more with her than him."
    "Second guesses," she said. "I know all about them."
    "I was into third guesses with Theo and Maddy. Anyway, that's one of the reasons I opted to buy the van and drive cross-country instead of dumping us all in a plane. It gave us some time. Nothing like a three-thousand-mile drive in an enclosed vehicle to cement a family unit—if you live through it."
    "It was very brave of you."
    "You want to talk courage?" He drove easily up the lane to the villa. "I've been chief taste-tester on this wine experiment Maddy's conducting. It's brutal."
    She chuckled. "Be sure to let us know if we've got a competitor in the making." She started to reach for the door handle, but his hand came to her shoulder, stopped her.
    "I'll come around. Let's finish the evening off right."
    Nerves rolled back. Just exactly what did he mean by that? she wondered as he walked around the van. Was she supposed to ask him in so they could neck in the parlor? Surely not. It was out of the question.
    He'd just walk her to the door. They could say good night, perhaps exchange a casual—very casual—kiss. Between friends, she reminded herself and geared back up as he opened her door.
    "Thanks. It was a lovely dinner, a lovely evening."
    "For me, too." He took her hand, not surprised to find it chilled. He'd seen the wariness come back into her eyes when he'd opened the