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the waiter brings us the check, we throw
down enough cash to cover the meals, drinks and tip. We get up, hug, and say
our goodbyes, and then we both set out on our way to work.

FOUR
    It’s right at one o’clock in the afternoon when I
walk through the door of Art through a Lens . That is the name of my
photography shop. Walking in, I smile and say “hi” to Jenny, who’s behind the
front counter wrapping up a large framed 24x36 photograph of a ten-foot wave I
captured in Hawaii last year.
    She flashes a bright smile at me and asks, “Do you
need something to drink or help preparing for tomorrow?”
    “A bottle of smart water would be great, but no
rush,” I reply. “I think I have everything covered for tomorrow. I just need to
make sure the layout is perfect. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” I
continue making my way to the back.
    Placing my purse on my chair in front of my
computer, I walk over to the portfolio lying out on the long section of my L-shaped
desk. I take a seat on the bench in front, placing my right leg underneath my
butt to get comfortable. I know I’m going to be here for a while, dwelling over
which photos should be where in this layout. I wasn’t this indecisive with the
first book I published last year.
    A few minutes later Jenny walks in with my water
and I take it from her hand, thanking her. She walks right back out of my
office to go back to the front. I pop the cap up and take a sip. The water
tastes refreshing as it eases down my throat. Afterwards, I place it to my far
left so there isn’t a chance of spilling it. I’m somewhat clumsy. 
    The front door chimes, but I ignore it. Jenny’s
out front; she can deal with the customer. Today, I don’t need any
distractions. 
    The voices I hear are low, but I am able to make
out Jenny saying, “Miss Taylor is busy today. Sir, would you like to make an
appointment to come back to see her?” There is a pause before she continues.
“Excuse me, sir, but you can’t go back there. Sir?”
    I feel his eyes on me before I see him. It’s that
same warm tingling feeling that washed over my body this morning. I look up,
over my left shoulder at the door. There he is, filling the doorframe with his
large hard body; staring at me with those blue flames. Holy cow, this man is
too hot for his own good.
    It should be a sin.
    Perhaps it is and I don’t know it. I’m a terrible
Catholic who hasn’t been to church since my early teens. Now that so many years
have passed, I wouldn’t dare take communion without confessing my secrets. And
well…that just isn’t going to happen. You would think if a person could talk to
someone, it would be easy to tell one’s priest. But it’s not. I did try once,
but I chickened out before I even walked into the church.
    He clears his throat, pulling me out of my
thoughts. My eyes roam over him from head to toe on their own accord. He’s
dressed in the same suit he was wearing this morning, minus the jacket. The
disappointment I felt earlier at the thought of never seeing him again
vanishes. My eyes travel back up, locking onto his.
    Jenny is right behind him and tries to push her
way into the room, but he doesn’t budge. “Excuse me, sir, but I − ”
    “It’s okay, Jenny. He can stay,” I cut her off,
but never break eye contact with him. How did he know where to find me? I don’t
even know who he is, yet he’s standing here in my gallery, in my office; this
makes me smile on the inside for some reason.
    “Okay, but call me if you need anything.” Jenny
leaves to go back up front and we continue to stare at each other. 
    I turn on the bench so I’m facing him with my
hands in my lap, but I remain seated in the same position with my right leg
tucked under me. He walks closer, coming inside my office. Now I’m looking up
at him and he’s staring down at me.
    I’m the first to break eye contact, looking down
at my hands. “What are you doing here, and how did you know where I worked?”