“Sure,” she said, and they turned onto the wharf and walked down to the Gray Gull.
“Bar or table?” Crow said.
“Damn,” Molly said. “I’m in uniform.”
“Leave the raincoat on,” Crow said. “Who will know.”
Molly nodded.
“Table,” she said.
Crow nodded and pointed at a table, and the young woman doing hostess duty led them to it. Molly ordered a vodka gimlet; Crow had Maker’s Mark on the rocks.
“How many kids have you?” Crow said.
“Four.”
“They okay?”
“Sometimes I think no kids are okay, but they’re as okay as anyone else’s kids.”
“Husband?”
“It’s a good marriage,” Molly said.
So what am I doing here?
“How’s the Francisco kid?”
“A mess,” Molly said. “If she were mine, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“If she were yours,” Crow said, “she’d be different.”
Molly nodded.
“Probably,” Molly said. “You married?”
“I’m not here to talk about me,” Crow said.
“Even if I want to?”
“I don’t talk about me,” Crow said.
“So…” Molly paused.
Do I want to go this way?
“So,” Molly started again. “What are we here to talk about?”
Crow smiled.
“Sex,” he said.
She felt herself clench for a moment and release.
This is crazy. The man is a stone killer.
“What aspect of sex did you have in mind?” Molly said.
“You and me, once, no strings,” Crow said.
Molly met his gaze. They were silent for a moment.
Then Molly said, “Why?”
“We both want to,” Crow said.
“You’re so sure of me?” Molly said.
“Yes.”
