Page 164 of A Matter of Time

It had been a fun night. Dylan and I had got tipsy on the house wine at Tulio’s, and over lasagna and chicken tetrazzini that was served family-style, we sang from Mariah Carey’s songbook. Chris had been mortified until he saw Dane’s smile. He’d made us shut up while we ate, but on the walk to the car, he’d encouraged both Dylan and me to let out our inner divas. It was funny, and Chris now understood that Dane had an appreciation for the ridiculous and just truly liked me. Whatever I did was okay.

“You know, Jory, considering who Dane Harcourt is, he’s a really cool guy.”

“I know.” I burped.

“Gross,” he groaned and shoved me out the front door ahead of him and Dylan.

Dinner Date was an intimate little restaurant downtown that served a beer-based cheese fondue appetizer and had huge Long Island iced teas. I got one and so did Dylan, and Chris warned both of us not to spill. When a man appeared at the table, we all looked up at him.

“Guys, this is Ray Alvarez, who blew us off last Saturday.”

“That’s not fair,” he said quickly, and my head snapped up because the voice was so deep and warm, with a very mellifluous accent. “You must be Jory.” He smiled down at me, holding out his hand for me to take. “It’s good to finally put a face to the name.”

I nodded as I shook his hand. “And you.”

“I understand we both know Nick Sullivan.”

“Yes,” I said, realizing he still had my hand.

He pointed at the booth. “Can I sit?”

“Sure,” I told him as he released my hand, at the same time sliding into the seat beside me.

He turned to look at me. “So how long’ve you known Nick?”

“Close to a year.”

“Oh, so longer than me.”

“Yeah, but you had the whole relationship deal with him.”

He chuckled, and I understood where Nick’s obsession had sprung from. If you caught the eye of Ray Alvarez, you wanted to keep it. And not just because he was so drop-dead gorgeous. His eyes were dark and liquid, his smile had that hint of naughty instead of nice, and his voice just resonated inside of you. His hair was almost black, thick and straight, cut short in the back but longer on top. It looked soft, and I had the urge to touch it and see.

“We went out a few times,” he told me. “It didn’t constitute a relationship.”

I wasn’t listening. “What?”

His smile was wide, and under the table his knee bumped mine. “We’re talking about Nick.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He leaned his chin in his hand, studied my face, his eyes coming to rest on my mouth. I swallowed hard, realizing all of a sudden how long it had been since I’d been to bed with anyone. I felt the blood rush to my groin as he leaned closer to me.

“What are you guys drinking?” he asked, looking at my empty glass then smiling over at Dylan. “Because it’s huge, whatever it is.”

“Long Island iced tea.” She giggled, reaching across the table for his hand. He squeezed it tight and smiled at her. “I was mad at you for standing Jory up.”

“Dyl,” I scolded her.

“No, it’s okay,” he told me, the smile there again. “I got stuck explaining things to Nick, and I couldn’t get out of there. I really wanted to meet you that night, and I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

“Sure.” I nodded as Chris got up.

“I gotta move the car, guys. I’ll be right back.”

“I need to pee,” Dylan announced as I scowled at her. “What?”

“TMI,” I reminded her. “Just a simple ‘hey, guys, I’ll be right back’ is sufficient.”