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milking.”
    “Right. And so you’re sleepy now, but you’ll be back in bed in what. An hour?”
    “Less than that,” he admitted with a glance at the sky. “He’ll have done a lot of it already.”
    “And if you’d had coffee, you wouldn’t be able to sleep. You’d be up all day, running on empty.”
    It’s the truth, and he knows it.
    “I don’t like tomato juice,” he says. “Tastes like pennies.”
    Corinne smiles. “Fair enough. I’ll remember that.”
    He leans across the center console to kiss her once more, taking a chance that she won’t chastise him again. The kiss is sweet and lingering. When he tries to draw away, she holds him by the collar for a moment, staring deep into his eyes.
    “Good boy,” she says.
    And Reese is lost to her.

Chapter Six
    He’d ordered her a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. Her favorite. After all these years, and he still remembered. It shouldn’t have meant anything, but try as she might to pretend it didn’t, all she had to do was sip from her glass to be reminded of how once upon a time, Reese Ebersole had been hers, completely and utterly.
    He’d ordered the meal for her as well, and she ought to have been annoyed but found herself amused, instead. Charmed, a little. He got it mostly right. She’d have preferred grilled chicken instead of shrimp, though he couldn’t have known she’d started keeping modified kosher after she got married. He had chosen the right dressing for her salad and exactly the appetizer she’d have picked for herself, though.
    “Most men don’t order for their dates these days,” she murmured, taking off the shrimp and setting it aside without comment. “It’s considered a little overbearing.”
    “You’re not allergic,” he said with a glance at the cast-off shellfish.
    “No,” she said, and offered him no more explanation than that, because she didn’t owe him a damned thing, especially not about the changes she’d made to her life as part of her now-defunct marriage.
    Reese stroked a thumb along the sweating edge of his water glass, drawing her attention to his hands. God, how she’d always loved his hands. Strong enough to break her, although he never had…at least never physically.
    “Anyway,” he said, “this isn’t a date.”
    Corinne arched an eyebrow. “Of course it’s not. I was joking.”
    “I guess my sense of humor’s changed since the last time we saw each other,” Reese replied.
    At least he was acknowledging there’d been a last time. He’d greeted her the way a stranger would and had seemed surprised when she hugged him. Corinne sipped her wine, relishing the earthy flavor.
    “I never thought I’d see you here. I knew the offer was coming from Ebersole Enterprises,” she said after a moment. “I did have a minute where I thought… But then, no. How could it be? What kind of coincidence would that have been?”
    He sat back in his chair. “I find that hard to believe.”
    “Hard to believe what?” She studied him. “In coincidence?”
    “That you’d have even for a second imagined it might have been me.”
    The tone of his voice was hard to read. Corinne paused before answering, then said carefully, “Why wouldn’t I?”
    “I find it hard to believe you’ve spared a passing thought for me in the past fifteen years, that’s all.” He shrugged and gestured to the passing waitress, who turned at once, all big eyes and bouncy, swinging hair. “Another glass of Cabernet for Mrs. Levy.”
    Corinne shook her head. “Actually, no, I’ll take an iced coffee, please. Cream and sugar.”
    She waited until the girl had left before she added crisply, “One glass is enough. I have to drive, not to mention I have to head back to the office after this.”
    Reese said nothing.
    “And it’s Ms. Barton. Not Mrs. Levy. I never took my husband’s name.” She paused again, watching him. When they’d been together, she’d prided herself on being able to know his emotions just by looking at his