“I can see that,” he said, thinking that she was rapidly becoming a treasure that meant a lot to him. Now that he saw her again, he realized that he liked her even better than he had before. There was something very real and meaningful about seeing her where she lived. It was different than seeing her in restaurants, or on Charlie's boat. She had looked beautiful and appealing to him then, but now she seemed more real.
They talked about her gallery then, and the artists she represented, while they waited for the pizza to arrive.
“I'd love to see your work,” she said thoughtfully, and he nodded.
“I'd like you to see it too. It's not the kind of work you show.”
“Who's your gallery?” She was curious, he had never mentioned it to her, and he shrugged when he answered.
“I don't have one at the moment. I was really unhappy with my last dealer. I have to do something about finding someone else. I don't have enough for a show yet anyway, so I'm in no rush.”
The pizza arrived then, and Sylvia paid for it, although Gray offered to. She told him it was his fee for stopping her leak. They sat at her kitchen table, and ate the pizza as they chatted comfortably. She shared the wine with him, turned down the lights, lit candles, and served the pizza on good-looking Italian plates. Everything she did or touched or owned had a sense of elegance and style. Just as she did, in her simple ponytail, bare feet, and jeans. She was wearing the same stack of turquoise bracelets he had noticed her wearing in Italy.
They sat there for a long time, talking about nothing in particular. They just enjoyed being together, and she was glad he had come over to help her with the leak. It was ten o'clock when he finally admitted that the jet lag was getting to him. That with the wine was putting him to sleep. He got up from the table regretfully, helped her put the dishes in the dishwasher, although she insisted she could do it herself after he left. He liked helping her, and he could see it wasn't familiar to her. She was used to doing things herself, just as he had been all his life. But it was nicer doing things together, and he was sorry to leave. He liked being with her, and when he turned to her before he left, she was looking up at him.
“Thanks for coming by, and helping me, Gray. I appreciate it. I'd be swimming around my kitchen by now if you hadn't turned the water off for me.”
“You'd have figured it out. It was a great excuse to see you,” he said honestly. “Thanks for the pizza, and the good company.” He reached out and hugged her then, and kissed her on both cheeks, and then he stopped and looked at her, and held her there, wondering if it was too soon. There was a question in his eyes, and she answered it for him. She reached up to him and pulled him closer to her, and as she did, their lips met, and it was hard to tell if he had kissed her, or she had kissed him. It no longer mattered, they were holding tightly to each other, with all the longing they had felt for each other in the past few weeks, and the emptiness they had lived with for months and years before that. It was an endless, breath-consuming, life-giving kiss. And when he held her afterward, she leaned her face against his.
“Wow!” she whispered. “I wasn't expecting to do that.…I thought you just came over to fix my sink.”
“I did,” he whispered back. “I wanted to do this in Italy, but I thought it was too soon.” She nodded, knowing it probably would have been. She wanted to go to bed with him, but she knew it was much, much too soon, according to all the rules. They had barely known each other for a month, and hadn't seen each other in weeks. One day at a time, she told herself. She was still savoring their first kiss. And just as she thought about it, he kissed her again. This one was more passionate, and she couldn't help wondering how many times he had done this with other women, how many affairs he'd had, how many crazy women had come into his life, wanting him to rescue them, how many times it had ended, and how many times he had started over again with someone else. He had had a lifetime of meaningless relationships, like a merry-go-round of women, and in her whole life, she had loved only two men. And now him. She didn't love him yet. But she thought she could one day. There was something about him that made her want him to stay and stay and stay, and never leave. Like the man who came to dinner, and never left, and just moved in.
“I'd better go,” he said in a gentle sexy voice that aroused her just listening to him. She nodded, thinking she should agree, but she didn't. She opened the door for him, and he hesitated.
“If I turn the water on tomorrow,” she whispered, “will you come back to turn it off again?” She looked at him innocently, her hair slightly tousled, her eyes full of dreams, and he chuckled at her.
“I could turn it on right now, and give us an excuse for me to stay,” he whispered hopefully.
