here we are.”
“Naked and unashamed.” She yawned, stretched. “Look,” she said, “I’m going to treat myself to a shower, even if I didn’t win the right in the
The bathroom had a window, and one look showed that she was on a high floor, with a river view. She showered, and washed her hair with his shampoo. Then she borrowed his toothbrush and brushed her teeth diligently, and gargled with a little mouthwash.
When she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in the big yellow towel, the aroma of fresh coffee led her into the kitchen, where he’d just finished filling two cups. He was wearing a white terry robe with a nautical motif, dark blue anchors embroidered on the pockets. His soft leather slippers were wine-colored.
“I made coffee,” he said.
“So I see.”
“There’s cream and sugar, if you take it.”
“Just black is fine.” She picked up her cup, breathed in the steam that rose from it. “I might live,” she announced. “Do you sail?”
“Sail?”
“The robe. Anchors aweigh and all that.”
“Oh. I suppose I could, because I don’t get seasick or anything. But no, I don’t sail. I have another robe, if you’d be more comfortable.”
“With anchors? Actually, I’m comfortable enough like this.”
“Okay.”
“But if I wanted to be even more comfortable…” She let the towel drop to the floor, noted with satisfaction the way his eyes widened. “How about you? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable if you got rid of that sailor suit?”
Afterward she propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at him. “I feel much much better now,” she announced.
“The perfect hangover cure?”
“No, the shower and the coffee took care of the hangover. This let me feel better about myself. I mean, the idea of hooking up and not remembering it…”
“You’ll remember this, you figure?”
“You bet. What about you, Peter? Will you remember?”
“Till my dying day.”
“I’d better get dressed and head on home.”
“And I can probably use a shower,” he said. “Unless you want to…”
“You go ahead. I’ll have another cup of coffee while you’re in there.”
Her clothes were on the chair, and she dressed quickly, then picked up her purse and checked its contents. The little glassine envelope was still in there, and unopened.
God, she’d been drunk.
She went into the kitchen, poured herself more coffee, and considered what was left in the pot.
Had they had drinks when they got to his place? Probably. There were two glasses next to the bottle, and he hadn’t gotten around to washing them.
What a shock he’d given her! The touch, the unexpected warmth of his skin. And then his voice.
She hadn’t expected that.
She uncapped the bottle, opened the glassine envelope, poured its contents in with the vodka. The crystals dissolved immediately. She replaced the cap on the bottle, returned the empty envelope to her purse.
She made her cup of coffee last until he was out of the shower and dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, which was evidently what a Wall Street guy wore on the weekend. “I’ll get out of your hair now,” she told him. “And I’m sorry about last night. I’m going to make it a point not to get quite that drunk again.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Jen. You were running a risk, that’s all. For your own sake—”
“I know.”
“Hang on and I’ll walk you to the subway.”
She shook her head. “Really, there’s no need. I can find it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“If you say so. Uh, can I have your number?”
“You really want it?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”
