When he did, he stopped at the door of the bed room, staring at the feast laid out on his bed. “I’ve never understood the mysteries that lie at the bottom of a woman’s bag, but I won’t question this one.”

Angela patted the spot beside her. “Sit.”

He handed her the half-gallon of milk and she set it down beside her bag. “Is there a fully-equipped pastry kitchen in your purse?”

“No, I took these from the table at the ball game.

They were just going to go to waste and they were so good.”

He tipped his head back and laughed. “I swear the surprises never end with you, Angela. And just when I think I have you figured out.”

“What’s surprising? That I’d steal goodies for future consumption? I’m a very practical girl, Max.

You should know that by now.”

“That you’d admit it with such unabashed glee.

Besides it’s not stealing when it belonged to you in the first place. It’s relocating. Or even liberating. You liberated those éclairs.”

She picked one up and held it out to him. “Taste.”

Max bit into it and then moaned softly. “These are good.”

“Better than sex?”

Max pretended to consider his answer, furrowing his brow. “Better than bad sex. Doesn’t touch what we have, though. That would take a double chocolate cheesecake with raspberry sauce and whipped cream.”

Angela pretended she was insulted, then playfully pushed an éclair into his nose, leaving custard dripping onto his chin. But before he could return the favor, she leaned forward and caught the dripping custard with her tongue. Slowly, she licked the rest of the mess off his face.

“Do that again,” he murmured.

Angela straddled his crossed legs, facing him, the éclair in her hand. She touched the chocolate to his nose, then licked it off. Dotting custard and chocolate on different parts of his body, his shoulder, his chest, his biceps, she used it to explore the perfection of his form.

When she was through, she took a huge bite of the éclair and handed it to him. “Yum,” she said with a wicked grin.

“Now I’m all sticky,” he said.

“We could go back up to the roof for a swim.”

“That sounds like a plan,” he said. “Or we could just take a shower.”

She lay down next to him and groaned. “I love éclairs but I don’t think they love me.” Angela rubbed her belly. “Let’s stay here a bit longer. I’m not sure my legs are fully functional yet.”

He grabbed the milk and took a long drink, then set it aside. “I could get used to this,” he said.

“Eating éclairs in bed?”

“No, having you in my bed. Naked and happy. I like it.”

Angela smiled to herself. She’d expected to feel a tiny bit of guilt over what they’d done, a sliver of doubt over her choice. But there was nothing about what happened between them she could regret.

“I guess our second date went pretty well,” he said, staring up at the ceiling again. “Swimming, sex and dessert. My batting average is quickly rising.”

She reached out and smoothed her hand over his belly, coming to rest at his groin. “You’ve got a few more innings left to play, Max,” she said.

5

MAX ROLLED OVER IN BED, opening one eye to the morning light. A sharp pain in his shoulder caused him to curse and he rolled back again, working out the twinge. Though the surgery had been nearly four months ago, he still had pain. Either the swimming or the sex had been too much for him and considering how much time he spent at both last night, Max was sure it wasn’t the swimming.

When the ache had subsided, he sat up and found the other side of the bed empty. “Angela?” he called. His voice echoed through the silent apartment. Then he noticed the note on her pillow. Max snatched it up. “I have to work sometime. Date number two tonight. Better make it good.”

He chuckled, then flopped back down onto his pillow. Smiling seemed to be the only thing he could manage. His body was exhausted, his desire completely sated and he felt completely transformed. He reached for the phone beside the bed, ready to call her, merely to hear her voice. Then he realized he didn’t know her number by memory yet.

At that very moment, the phone rang and he reached out and grabbed it. “You better have a very good reason for leaving my bed this morning,” he said.

“Some of us have to work,” Angie replied. “And with all the noise I made, you didn’t even move. You were snoring.”

“I’m sure that was attractive,” he said. “What time did you leave?”

“About an hour ago. I caught a cab. I just got home.

I’m going to shower and then head into work.”

“Why don’t you shower and head back here?” he said. “You’re the boss, you can take the day off.”

“I took yesterday off,” she said. “And if the boss doesn’t work, the boss doesn’t make money.”

“I have plenty of money for both of us,” Max said.

“I’m not dating you for your money,” she said.

“Why are you dating me?” he asked.

“For your body. Call me later. Tonight, I get to choose what we do. Go back to sleep.”

“Bye, baby,” he said.

“Bye,” she cooed.

The line went dead. He switched off the phone and tossed it aside. But almost immediately, it rang again. “She can’t get enough of me,” Max murmured.

He pushed the button and held it to his ear. “I knew you’d change your mind. My bed is so lonely without you.”

“That is not what a mother wants to hear first thing in the morning, Max.”

He winced, biting back a curse. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, darling. I won’t bother asking you what you’ve been doing.”

“It’s not what you think,” he said.

“I prefer not to think about it,” she said. “Get out of bed and get dressed. I’m on my way to your place. We’re going to have coffee. I’ll pick you up out front in five minutes.”

Max ran his hand over his chest. He was still sticky from last night’s adventure with the éclairs. “Give me ten. I have to hop in the shower.”

“All right. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Max drew a deep breath and rolled out of bed. Reaching behind his head, he stretched the kinks out of his shoulder, then rubbed at the scar as he walked to the bathroom.

Five minutes was all he needed for a shower and five minutes after that, he was downstairs, watching for his mother’s car. When the Saab pulled up, he hopped in the passenger side, then leaned over and gave his mom a kiss on the cheek.

“Where’s the nearest coffee shop?” she asked.

“Out the driveway, then take your first left. As long as we’re in the car, we’ll go to my favorite place.”

Max gave her directions as they drove west. The coffee shop, Beanie’s, was in a busy part of the Lincoln Park neighborhood. He kept his eye out for a parking place, but knew that at this time of the day, it would be a while before they found something close. To his surprise, his mother pulled into a spot a few moments later.

“Why is it I can search forever for a spot and you always find one the minute you start looking?”

“You’re buying me coffee,” Maggie Morgan said as she stepped out of the car.

“It’s free,” Max said. “I own this place.”

“Really?” She stared up the facade. “It’s very nice. So you feed them drinks at night and soothe their hangovers in the morning. Your father would call that smart business.” She walked past him. “Too bad you don’t conduct your personal life with such care.”

“Here we go,” Max muttered. All of this because he’d made a mistake answering the phone. He followed his mother inside, then ordered coffees and pastries for them both. They found a table near the window and he pulled out her chair for her. “Before you start in on me, I’ll just say that the woman I was with last night is someone pretty special.”

“Movie star or model?”

“Neither. Just a regular, normal girl. Well, not normal. Very pretty. And nice. You’d like her.”

“Maxwell Morgan, it is time you seriously reevaluated your social life. You can’t keep sleeping with these women and expect any good to come of it. You’re not going to find a nice girl that way.”

“Oh, I know what this is about,” Max said. He took a bite of his pastry and slowly chewed. “David told me you want to set me up on a date. That’s why you’re here. To convince me to come to your barbecue. I’m not interested. I’m busy that weekend.”

“Just consider this girl. She’s lovely and she’s from a good family. And she’s not the sort to go sleeping around.”

“You’ve met her?”

“No, but her mother has shown me photos. She owns her own business and has a master’s degree.

You went to high school with her. You might even remember her.”

“I went to high school with 3,000 kids,” Max said.

“I didn’t know all of them.”

“She went to Northwestern, too. Although she finished all four years.” His mother grabbed her bag. “I brought your yearbook along. We’ll look her up and see if you remember her.” She flipped through the pages. “Here she is.” She paused. “Oh, my. This isn’t a very flattering picture. She looks nothing like this anymore.” She slammed the book shut. “Just trust me. Besides, if you don’t hit it off, you haven’t lost anything.”

Max grabbed the yearbook. “Show me. I’d like to know what you consider a lovely girl.”

Reluctantly, she found the page again and then held it out to Max. “Top row, second to the last.”

“Where?” Max asked, scanning the photos.

“There,” his mother said. “She had braces and she’s wearing glasses. She looks so much better now.

She’s blond. You seem to prefer blondes.”

The photo looked strangely familiar, but he shook his head. “Oh, Mom, no. This girl I’m dating is re ally great. I was thinking about bringing her to the barbecue. Her name is Angela.”

“Yes, dear. Angela Weatherby. I know.”

Max blinked in surprise. “How did you know that?