“Me too. And we’re usually horizontal.”
Nothing like getting right to the point.
“We had some vertical moments, Danny, lots of them,” she teased.
He gave a soft chuckle. “Like that time on the fire escape?”
“I was referring more to times we were vertical with clothes on,” she said, giving into the urge to flirt. When was the last time she’d flirted with someone? And why were her nipples tightening?
“Tell me about Annalissa Granger. I’d like to get to know her again.”
“I don’t know where to begin.” She really didn’t. He already knew the big details of life, the all-consuming ones that defined her days.
“Start from when we last saw each other,” he suggested. “You drove off in your car and…”
She quietly took as deep a breath as the constriction in her throat allowed. “I drove off in my car and arrived at school without you, and it felt strange not to have you there anymore.”
“We lost touch after that weekend, didn’t we?”
Anna nodded, riding a wave of memory that began at his family’s cottage on the New Jersey shore and crested at the threshold of a three-story Victorian, the loneliness of her first apartment, and the start of her third year of art school.
“What did you do after that summer?” she asked.
“I went to Europe, fell in love with everything about it, came home, and moved to New York City. My parents helped me buy a loft, and I’ve lived here ever since.”
“Would you send me a picture?”
“One is on its way,” he said, his voice as richly luxurious as the velvet she found the day before. “Does this mean I get a picture of you?”
“Soon,” she assured him, hoping a little lie wouldn’t hurt. “The camera on my phone is broken.”
An email with attachment arrived. She downloaded the photo and double-clicked. Either Daniel had a huge couch, or he was in bed. His ankles were crossed, and past his polished loafers was a space with a soaring ceiling, light-colored walls, huge paintings, and modern furniture.
“Nice feet, Danny.” She grinned. It appeared he still eschewed socks.
“Those feet could be next to yours on a beach,” he said, his voice deepening further. “Is your passport up to date?”
“It is. Why?”
“Well, I was thinking I’d fly out to see you, but then I looked at your weather. You must love rain.”
“You get used to it.” She shrugged. You get used to the rain and the incessant gray sky during certain months, just like you get used to the quiet in the house when the kids move out and the empty half of a bed.
“How about some sunshine? Mexican sunshine,” he said. “Here, I’ll forward a couple of websites to you. Pick one. My treat.”
“For what, a winter break?”
“An October break. I can clear my calendar, take a few days before I leave for Berlin. Or right after I get back. Can you get away, say, in two weeks?”
“I’ll think about it,” she mused, smacking at the inner Anna waving wildly and bouncing off the walls. Her breasts were ready to pack a carry-on and fly to wherever Daniel Strauss booked a room.
“What’s to think about, Annalissa?” he asked, his laugh soft, throaty. “I’m inviting you on an all-expenses paid trip, and all you have to supply is a bathing suit and something to wear to dinner.”
This Daniel, the man who took charge, was familiar. She wanted to hear more about him.
“Tell me about your work.” She steered him away from the beach, the outer banks of flirtatious, and led him back to the more neutral topics of work and family. Chatting casually about meeting in Mexico was a conversation she was not ready to have. When noise in the background of his office alerted her the hour allotted for the call had passed, Anna didn’t want their conversation to end.
“The rest of my assistants will be back in a few minutes,” Daniel said, “and I don’t want to hang up, but I also have clients coming in.”
“I understand. I should get to work too.” Back to swooning over all-inclusive resorts was more likely. She had quietly clicked on one of the links Daniel sent while he was in the middle of describing a difficult client, and she’d almost squealed into the phone.
“Let’s talk again in the next couple of days,” he suggested.
“I’d like that.”
Anna stayed seated at the desk long after the call ended. Her palms sought the wood’s smooth surface and pressed down.
If she went to Mexico, she would need resort clothes. Cabo San Lucas was on a beach. A beach meant a bathing suit. She’d stopped wearing bathing suits after the last one lost its elasticity and the inexplicable vagaries of menopause had rendered her waistline obsolete.
She owned one dressy dress, the olive-and-black-striped number she had no intention of wearing again. The horizontal stripes were too close to the all-weather fabric on Gary Jr. and Suki’s deck furniture. Burning questions begged her to prioritize. She could shop for underwear in Vancouver on Friday, before the breathing workshop, and schedule salon appointments when she went to see Gigi about the dress. She was beyond overdue for a haircut. What about highlights? Should she wax or shave? And what about pre-tanning?
If she went to Mexico, she would meet up with a man she hadn’t seen in almost thirty years.
If she went to Mexico, she might get naked in front of the aforementioned man, and she hadn’t been naked in front of a man in five years.
Shit.
Talk about dire straits. Daniel had last seen her body two pregnancies and almost three decades ago, and now he wanted to see her in a tropical location where there would be swimming pools, soaking pools, and beach walks. And she was such a water baby she’d kick herself if she didn’t get into all of them, especially the ocean.
Anna added a bathing suit to her shopping list. Agony would ensue. But maybe if bouts of nerves kept dampening her appetite, she’d have fewer excess pounds
