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answered without looking at
him. “They're ready to serve dinner so we need to be seated.”
    Michael followed her to the large head
table where they sat with her parents, the bridesmaids, and their dates. He
attempted to make conversation with the matron of honor's husband, a big blond
guy named Brad.
    “You know how it is in marketing,” Brad
was saying when Michael tuned back in minutes later. “You're lucky to stay one
step ahead of the changing times. That's why focus groups are so critical.”
    “Uh huh.” Michael preferred to focus on
his prime rib. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Paige pushing shrimp
around on her plate without actually eating anything.
    Brad prattled on about market
influences, direct mail, and the latest consumer buying trends. He seemed
satis-fied with Michael's occasional nod.
    After the waiters cleared the dinner
dishes from their table, the orchestra leader called Michael and Paige to the
dance floor. “Please join me in a round of applause for the happy
couple—Michael and Paige.”
    The applause embarrassed Michael. This
whole thing was so over the top. But he took Paige into his arms and went
through the expected motions as the orchestra played “What Are You Doing the
Rest of Your Life?”
    Paige looked up at him with a sad smile.
“Remember?”

    ***

    After they had dinner in a Georgetown
bistro the night they met, they walked slowly back to his apartment to get his
car. In just three hours with her, he felt like he'd known her forever.
    She tucked her hand into the crook of
his arm as they strolled through the quaint, eclectic neighborhood.
    “Oh, look, Michael! They're dancing. Can
we go in?”
    He gazed into the jazz club. “Don't you
need to get home? It's a long ride to Annapolis,” he said, trying not to think
about the two hundred pages he had planned to read that night.
    She grinned. “I don't have an official
curfew anymore.”
    He was already beguiled by that hint of
mischief in her eyes and could feel himself drifting into something that had
the potential to be important. Powerless against the urge to frame that
flawless face with his hands, he hadn't expected the desire to roar through him
when her breath hitched in the instant before he kissed her. He felt her arms
go around him as her eager mouth opened under his.
    Long, passionate minutes passed before a
group of college kids brushed against them, reminding Michael of where he was
and what he was doing. Someone muttered, “Get a room.”
    Paige giggled.
    Still trying to get his head to stop
spinning, Michael decided that no kiss had ever affected him quite like that
one.
    “Does that mean you want to dance, or
what?” she asked with a teasing grin.
    “Yeah.” He opened the door to the club
for her. “Let's dance.”
    On a dance floor packed with couples
swaying to the jazz band's sultry sound, Michael took her into his arms like he
had done it a million times before. He couldn't help but notice how well she
fit against him.
    After they danced for a long while, a
woman who sounded just like Ella Fitzgerald stepped up to the microphone to
sing “What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?”
    Michael looked down at Paige, wanting
more than anything to kiss her again.
    She tilted her face in invitation.
    Swamped with tenderness and need and a
kind of wild desire totally unfamiliar to him, he touched his lips to hers.
    “Paige,” he whispered when the song
ended. “We should go.”
    She nodded and followed him through the
crowded club.
    Back on the street, he took a deep
breath of the cool winter air, hoping to regain control of his rampaging
hormones. They were quiet on the short walk to his building where he helped her
into his Toyota Camry for the ride to Annapolis. He got in next to her, looked
over, and wondered what it was about her that had him so bewitched after
spending just one evening with her.
    She reached out to caress his face. “Michael,”
she said in that breathy voice of