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this is what she wants, so I’ll see to it I do everything in my power to make this happen for her.” He realized what he was saying as he was saying it. “Well, not everything . I hope you realize I didn’t agree to lunch because—”
    “No, I understand.” Gio smiled.
    “Good. Because I do like you, Gio. But that’s separate from what I want for Emma.” Mike looked at his watch. He had to get back to work and needed to get out of this room that was suddenly flooded with memories. He felt raw and vulnerable, a bad place to be with a man who was still a relative stranger. “I don’t want to cut this short, but I’ve got a kitchen waiting for me.”
    “Yes, of course. I don’t mean to keep you.”
    Mike smirked. “Well, maybe you do.”
    Gio laughed. “A little, yes.”
    Well, that was something. Mike supposed he wouldn’t have torn his chest open and exposed his heart to just anyone, and there was something intriguing about Gio. If nothing else, they understood each other in a strange way.
    There was a tussle when Mike tried to give Gio money for the lunch and Gio refused, but then they went outside. It was a sunny day, warm but not too hot. Mike paused for a moment to let the light wash over his face. Then he looked at Gio.
    “Thank you for lunch,” said Mike.
    Gio nodded slowly. “You’re welcome.” He sighed and looked at something up the block. “Well, I feel like I’ve made myself clear. I like you, Mike, now even more than I did before lunch. I’d like to see you again. Part of me wants to say that perhaps, for the sake of propriety, we should wait before really jumping into anything. At least until the workshop is over.”
    “Oh.” That was disappointing. It had felt like they were fumbling toward something all through lunch, and now Gio was putting the brakes on it. Mike got it—at least he’d been clear that he wasn’t having lunch and contemplating sleeping with Gio just to get his daughter ahead—but it still made him a little sad to walk away.
    The feeling was apparently mutual, because Gio was doing that weird staring-unfocused thing again, this time glaring at something in the vicinity of the buttons on Mike’s shirt.
    “Hey, Gio?”
    Gio looked up.
    Mike took a chance. He stepped forward as he met Gio’s gaze. Then he gently cupped Gio’s cheek. Gio didn’t flinch or move away, so Mike didn’t think it would be so bad if he pressed his lips against Gio’s. When he did, he was met with a tiny whimper in the back of Gio’s throat and then the full force of a kiss, a strong one tasting a little of balsamic vinegar, openmouthed but no tongues… not yet. But it would be so easy to sink into this one, to get lost in Gio’s mouth, in his arms, in his skin. It would be so wonderful to let desire and instinct take over, to keep moving in search of the dazed, zippy feeling in Mike’s head, to keep the blood rushing in his veins.
    Mike pulled away slowly. “Something to look forward to.”

Five

     
    M IKE was itchy.
    He didn’t like the feeling. His skin felt inflamed, a remnant of wanting and a lack of satisfaction. He felt uneasy but couldn’t put a finger on why. He did know that he’d rather be anywhere other than the kitchen of one of his wealthy patrons.
    He made some adjustments and then slid out from under the sink. His nervous client, Elaine Hutchinson, stood there wringing her hands.
    “Everything looks like it should, Mrs. Hutchinson.” He stood up and pulled the walkie-talkie off his belt. “Hey, Sandy? Turn the water back on.”
    “You got it, boss” came the crackling response.
    Mike waited a moment and then turned the handle on the new faucet. It burbled and sputtered but soon was pouring out clean water. “What do you think?” he asked Mrs. Hutchinson after he turned off the faucet.
    “That’s good. So what’s left to do?”
    Mike picked his clipboard up off the counter and glanced at it. “The tile for the backsplash is due in tomorrow. Then I