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before flaring out at the hips. It had a fairly low,
crossover bodice, and the pretty lace of her new black bra showed occasionally above
the material. Clearly, Dion had noticed too.
    Both of them
wanted only a light lunch, but because of the cold weather they both ordered potato
soup with mushrooms and homemade rustic bread. Dion asked to see the wine list
and asked for a bottle of Bollinger Les Vieilles Vignes Francaises . Megan
nearly had a fit when she saw the price.
    “Dion!” She gasped
as the waitress nodded at his good taste and walked away.
    “What?” He looked
genuinely puzzled at her shock.
    “Didn’t you work
out the exchange rate? That costs hundreds of dollars.”
    He looked amused.
“Yes, little Miss Provincial, I know what the exchange rate is. I thought we
were celebrating.”
    “Yes, but…” Words
failed her. She’d never spent more than twenty dollars on a bottle of wine.
    “My treat,” he
said firmly. “I haven’t seen you forever. I want you to have a good time.” His
eyes met hers. Was it her imagination, or did a mischievous twinkle appear at
the words ‘good time’?
    “Well, well.” She
leaned back in her seat and played with her napkin. “Clearly you’ve done very
well for yourself.”
    He laughed. “I’ve
done okay. Part of the job is taking out clients for business lunches. You soon
get to know the good wines and spirits.”
    “So you’re just a
salesman then?”
    He shrugged.
“Pretty much.”
    “Dion, I’m teasing
you. Don’t you remember how I used to tease you? I bet you’re fantastic at it.”
    He smiled and
visibly relaxed. “I do okay.”
    “Oh come on, don’t
be modest,” she said. “Tell me about the company.”

Chapter Seven
    So she listened as
he told her about how he’d started by going out with the technical reps to
learn the ropes, and how he’d quickly learned everything there was to know
about paper sizes and storage and what brand would likely cause the most
faults, and how to placate the customers who grew irate when they couldn’t get
their magazines or brochures to print. And how he discovered he had a talent
with people—how he calmed even the most furious customers and kept their
business, even though occasionally they threatened never to buy from the
company again.
    Because of his success,
his father transferred him to sales, and there he learned the business behind
the business. Remembering tiny details about customers’ wives’ and children’s
names, taking interest in their problems, making the effort to always return
calls personally and never palm them off—these things enabled him to make a name
for himself, and gradually his clientele grew.
    Their soup
arrived, and while they ate he told her that one of the older sales women had
taken him to fancy restaurants to teach him which foods to choose to impress
customers. Reading between the lines, Megan pressed him a little, and he
admitted the woman had seduced him, and he’d given in.
    “She was quite a
bit older than me.” He trailed his spoon in the soup and watched the pattern it
made. His gaze came up to hers and he frowned. “I was very young, only twenty,
and she was very attractive.”
    “You don’t have to
explain yourself to me.” The tug of jealousy at his words surprised her, though.
Did she think he’d have stayed celibate over the past eight years?
    He shrugged and
poured her another glass of champagne. “I’m not declaring myself completely
innocent. I knew she was married. I’m not proud of what I did.”
    She said nothing.
He spoke like a man in his forties, and he was only twenty-six. For a moment he
seemed weighed down, and she wondered what a strain the job had on him. Salesmen
were notorious for having health problems. Long lunches and rich food, too
little exercise and the pressure of performance at work. At least he looked
like he took care of himself—he wasn’t overweight, and he obviously went to the
gym.
    “What happened?”
she asked,