Seeing Richard had tickled something in her mind, reminding her that there was something she needed to do, but she couldn’t put a finger on it.

But it was Scott, and his request about the house, that filled her mind. The meeting had left her deeply unsettled, but she wasn’t sure exactly why. She herself had just been thinking that the house was too big, that she’d be happier somewhere else—so why did his request that she sell it set off such a storm of anger?

She got into her car and started the engine. It was hot and she rolled the windows halfway down, anxious for some fresh air. She backed out of the parking space and started home.

Scott was right about the money, too—it didn’t make sense to tie up all that equity in the house. With that much cash, she could travel, she could take a year off work and think about what she really wanted to do with her life. Maybe she could go back to school or write a book ...

So why was she so angry?

It was the divorce, of course. The affair, and the lurid way it had come to light. She thought she’d processed it all, but no, not really. It was always there in the background, waiting to ambush her when she was most vulnerable.

She was going to go home, pour herself a glass of wine, take a bubble bath and watch a movie, something lighthearted and silly. Bringing up Baby, maybe.

The thought of Bringing up Baby made her think of Richard again. He looked a little like Cary Grant, and he was a little like Grant’s character in the movie, too—a brilliant but socially inept scientist-type.

Idling at a red light, she frowned. The thought of Richard was nagging at her, but she couldn’t think why. Their paths hadn’t crossed since Charlotte was in eighth grade. They worked on completely opposite sides of campus, her in the Administration building, him over in Engineering—

“Damn it!”

She slapped the steering wheel in dismay. Of course—tonight was the Gradios reception, which would be held at the Engineering building, and she was expected to be there.

She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. The reception started in a little less than an hour. Her indulgent evening of self-care now looked like a frantic scramble to get ready, get back to campus on time, and spend the evening shaking hands and making small talk.

The light turned green and she stepped on the gas, anxious to get home.

She parked and let herself into the house, almost dropping her keys in her hurry to get through the door. Flinging her purse on the kitchen counter, she ran up the stairs, unbuttoning her dress as she went. In her room, she sat on the bed and began taking off her sandals, and then stopped.

She was done for the day. Already running on fumes, she was sure any attempt to network at the reception would simply be embarrassing.

Back to Plan A: take out and a movie.

The question: what to tell Harv?

She considered telling him she had food poisoning or a migraine, but she’d never had a migraine in her life and the thought of lying to Harv made her feel like a coward. She didn’t want to get into it over a text, but Harv would probably understand when she explained the situation in person.

She finished taking off her shoes. Shedding her dress completely, she grabbed a light robe and headed back downstairs where she dug her phone out of her purse and quickly texted Harv.

Sorry, Harv. I won’t be able to make it tonight. I’ll explain later.

At least that gave her the weekend to think of a decent excuse.

She shut the phone off and threw it back in her bag. Turning, she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of chardonnay. Scott had always turned his nose up at Chardonnay, so naturally, it was the only kind of wine she bought now.

Pouring a glass, she paused momentarily, remembering Charlotte’s quip about Cat’s and Zena’s moms and their Valium mojitos.

She settled for half a glass.

She began riffling through the drawer with the take-out menus. Indian, Chinese, pizza, Thai ... none of it sounded appealing, but the last thing she wanted to do was cook. She pulled out the Thai menu and studied it to see if they delivered.

The doorbell rang. She sighed. A package, probably, though it was possible that Charlotte had come home and was too lazy to unlock the door. Tucking her robe more tightly around her, she made her way to the front door and pulled it open.

There stood Chris. He blinked in surprise at the sight of her, then swept her up and down with appreciative eyes. Self-conscious, she fought the urge to clutch the collar of her robe more tightly around her neck; she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“Why, Joy,” he gave her his biggest smile. “I see you were expecting me.”

* * *

“I thought you were the UPS guy,” she growled.

“Lucky UPS guy. I never seriously considered a career as a delivery man, but it’s starting to look pretty good.” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Don’t tell me all those porn movies are based in reality?”

“What porn movies? And what are you doing here?”

“Ruining some poor UPS guy’s evening, from the looks of it. And you know, those porn movies with the lonely housewife and the delivery man.” He scratched his beard. “Come to think of it, maybe it’s usually a pizza guy.”

She sighed. “Why don’t you come in before my gossipy neighbors call the tabloids. How did you know where I live?”

“Your friend Eva pointed out your house. I’m renting a place just a few streets over. Some professor of Latin Studies who’s on sabbatical in Peru,” he explained as he stepped in, catching the subtlest scent of perfume as he brushed past her.

His appreciation of the sight of her had not been faked; the silky robe slid over her curves and slipped open at the neckline to reveal a touch more cleavage than was probably intentional. Still, the sight of her in her robe unnerved him in more ways than one.

“I’m not actually interrupting anything, am I?” he asked, trying to hide the fear that he was.

“Would it matter if you were?” she asked drily.

He gave her a look of surprised innocence. “Hey, if you’ve got a delivery man stashed away somewhere, just tell me and I’ll get out of your hair. But if you don’t, I actually came by to see if you wanted to go out for dinner and talk over the production.” His heart was pounding but he tried to keep his tone casual. Just two old friends getting together for dinner. No biggie.

“I don’t think so, Chris. I’m ... pretty wiped out.”

He nodded knowingly. “On account of that emotionally draining encounter with your ex-husband?”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “For crying out loud, is there no privacy in this town? How on earth did you know about that?”

“Sorry,” Chris said, sincerely. “I didn’t mean to spy on you, but I got into town this afternoon and met up with Simon at that café where you and I went. We were on the patio, and I saw the two of you through the glass. You didn’t look happy, so I also came by to see how you were doing.”

“I wasn’t happy.” She turned and walked toward the kitchen. “It was nice of you to worry, but I’m better now. You want a glass of wine?”

He spied the single glass on the counter. “What’s this? Drinking alone?”

“I haven’t had the chance, what with all the UPS guys that come through here.” She pulled a second glass out of the cupboard. “No, actually, I was going to have a glass of wine, get some take out, and watch Bringing up Baby.”

“Hey, that’s one of my favorite movies!” he exclaimed, brightening at the coincidence.

Just a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she pulled a second wine glass out of a cupboard. “I know. You were the one who recommended it.”

That summer, she didn’t say, but he knew that was what she was referring to. He remembered the conversation now; they’d been in the green room at the theater talking about their favorite comedy films and he’d told her she had no business taking a stand until she’d seen it.

She poured another glass of wine and handed it to him. “I admit it—you were right. It’s a great movie.” They clinked glasses and each took a sip.

“So, it’s a great movie, but still,” he schooled his expression to look deadly serious, “it’s a good thing I came by.”

“Because?”

“I’m saving you from yourself. Home on a Friday night watching movies and drinking Chardonnay alone. Joy, nobody drinks Chardonnay anymore. So, dinner?”

She looked at him skeptically over the top of her wine glass. “Do pick-up lines like that work in Hollywood?”

He shrugged. “More often than you’d think.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, I think most of the chicks are just after my body. My subtle wit doesn’t impress them much.”

“I’m surprised.”

“So, how about it? Dinner?”

She shook her head. “I, uh ... actually can’t leave the house tonight.”

He raised his eyebrows curiously. “Because ...?”

She shook her head. “I just can’t.”

His brow wrinkled. “Is this some ... female thing?”

She rolled her eyes again. “I’m supposed to be at a work event tonight, and I just couldn’t deal with going. I didn’t tell my boss why, but I’m sort of hoping he’ll assume I wasn’t feeling well. If it gets back to him that I was out having dinner with some guy, then my cover’s blown.”

“‘Some guy?’“ Chris put his hand on his heart in mock pain. “Is that all I am to you? Okay, don’t answer that. Do you really think if we go grab a quick dinner somewhere your boss is going to find out?”

“You don’t even live in Silverweed and you know I was talking to my ex-husband an hour ago,” she pointed out. “You’d be amazed at how quickly news travels around here.”

“It’s like Hollywood, with less sushi,” he observed, nodding sympathetically. “Fortunately for you, you’re with a master of disguise.”

She snorted lightly into her wine glass.

“Okay, not really. But I do have some slight experience with avoiding the press. Basically, we just find some hole in the wall where no one else goes. And wear sunglasses and hats.”

“How about we just do take out? Maybe I can even get something delivered.”

“I like how you’re saying ‘we’ now.” He grinned triumphantly. “Your eyes are gonna get stuck like that if you keep rolling them at me. C’mon, grab your purse and some sunglasses. And a hat. I’m hungry.”

She crossed her arms. “First of all, I’m not even dressed. Second, I don’t recall ever saying I was actually going to go out with you.”

“You’ve found the one flaw in my otherwise perfect plan. Easy to fix, though—go put some clothes on.” He settled down on one of the stools at the counter. “Go on, now. I’ll wait.”

She didn’t bother to point out that she’d found two flaws in his plan and he had only addressed one. She just kept her arms crossed and looked at him.

“You know what,” he jumped off the chair again, “I have a better idea. I’ll go get take out and bring it back, and you don’t get dressed at all.”

“I think there’s a compromise in here somewhere. Here are all the take-out menus. Choose something you like, call it in, and when you get back, we’ll go over the schedule.”

“Most women would be thrilled to be seen in public with me, young lady. But then again, staying in might be even better.” He winked at her.

She gave an exasperated huff, but he caught a glint of humor in her eyes before she turned and went upstairs.