“So do I, but we haven’t even defined what it is,” she said. “Maybe it’s just a fling.”
Even as she said it, she held her breath, praying for a denial.
“Connie Collins, is that what you’re really thinking?” he demanded, his voice thick with indignation. “You’re not the kind of woman to have flings. Surely you know I’m more respectful of you than that.”
Relieved by his vehemence, she allowed herself to smile. “I was hoping that’s how you felt, but you never know.”
“Because of my wild and reckless reputation, you mean?”
“You’ve been a bachelor for a while now. Maybe that’s the lifestyle you want. For all I know, I’m just a convenient dalliance because you’ve been bored.”
“Absolutely not,” he said flatly. “Besides, I’m lousy at being a bachelor. I liked being settled down and married, even if I wasn’t very good at it.”
“Wrong women,” she said succinctly.
“Maybe. Or it could have been me. The jury’s still out on that.”
“I know,” she said. “We’ve only been together, I mean officially together, a couple of weeks now, and I’ve already seen the kind of man you are. You’ve been treating me the way any woman wants to be treated.”
“Like a queen?” he teased.
“No, like a real partner. I don’t just like sleeping with you, Thomas. I like the way you talk with me, the way you share what’s going on in your life, the way you ask for my opinion and seem to genuinely care about what I say. That is such a refreshing change for me. I mean, Jake listens to me from time to time, but my ex-husband never did. Jenny’s a teenager. She hardly listens to anyone.”
“Well, I will always listen because you’re smart. I value your insights,” he said at once. “I think we make a good team.”
Connie sighed. “So do I,” she said softly.
“So you’ll put on a brave face and go to Sunday dinner with me?”
“I could just meet you there,” she suggested, not sure why the thought of walking in the door with him in front of all those expectant looks terrified her so. “Maybe ride over with Jake, Bree and the baby. Then, if things go okay, I could leave with you.”
“No way. We do this together, hand-in-hand. Otherwise I might chicken out,” he joked.
She laughed. “As if. I think you’re anxious to throw this in their faces.”
“Not at all,” he said, his tone sobering. “I’m anxious to show them that I’m the luckiest guy around.”
Connie blinked back unexpected tears. “Sometimes you say the sweetest things.”
“Did I make you cry?” he asked worriedly.
“Only for the best possible reason,” she said. “You made me feel like the luckiest woman, not just in town, but on the entire East Coast.”
And no one had ever, ever done that before. Forget the daunting O’Briens. She could face down an entire firing squad for a man like that.
18
When Will walked out of his office after seeing his last patient, he saw Jess leaning against the fender of his car in the parking lot. She lifted her hand in a tentative wave, then let it drop back to her side.
Will approached slowly, trying not to leap to any conclusions about her presence. “What brings you by?”
“I’ve come to thank you and to make amends,” she said at once.
He didn’t pretend not to understand. Instead, he nodded. “Feel like going to dinner? It’ll give you time to grovel.”
Her wary expression gave way to a grin. “Who said anything about groveling?”
“I think it’s the only thing to do under the circumstances,” he replied solemnly.
“I guess that’s one more thing we can discuss over dinner,” she said. “I’m no good at the whole groveling thing. Saying I’m sorry is tough enough. It goes against my nature to admit I was wrong.”
“Do you have any idea what you’re sorry for?” he asked, curious to find out exactly how she’d explained her actions to herself. “Absolutely.”
“Okay, then, you can tell me that, too. Where would you like to go? Brady’s?”
“I think we should reserve Brady’s for celebrations. Since this is all about penance, let’s go to the French café on Shore Road.”
“Seriously?” Will said, surprised. “Why there?”
“Have you ever sat on those chairs?” Jess demanded. “An hour of that is sufficient punishment for just about any crime short of murder. You should hear my dad on the subject. He’s quite vocal, since it’s apparently Mom’s favorite restaurant ever since their honeymoon in Paris. The fact that he goes there because she likes it tells me a lot about how happy he is these days.”
Will laughed. “You’re crazy.”
“Please don’t say that,” she pleaded. “You’re an expert, and I’d have to take you seriously.”
He draped an arm over her shoulders and guided her around to the passenger side of his car, then held the door for her. Before closing it, he met her gaze. “I’m glad you came by, Jess.”
“Me, too.”
“I’d like to kiss you, but it might not be wise, considering we haven’t gotten to the groveling yet. It might send a mixed message.”
She chuckled. “Now who’s the crazy one?”
Ten minutes later, they’d been seated on the café’s uncomfortable wooden and metal chairs that were too small for normal human beings, much less a man more than six feet tall. Will had ordered two glasses of wine, then gave the menu a cursory glance. He didn’t recognize half of the dishes and so settled on salad and quiche, wincing at Jess’s amused look. “Hey, I’m a real man. Eating quiche doesn’t scare me,” he told her.
“Good to know,” she said, then ordered the same thing.
He stretched out his legs in a futile attempt to get comfortable, then looked at Jess. “Okay, anytime you’re ready.”
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
“Any reason I should?”
“No,” she admitted. “But if
