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She suddenly wanted to hug him. Because, really, how many men could there be who just wanted their protégés to move on to a better life?

Just like her, with the way he’d so readily agreed to give her the project and a promotion. But that was Dane.

They reached Lloyd Lake, where Dane stopped at a spot with a clear sight line across the water. With him standing behind her, his body close enough for her to feel his heat against her back, his whisper sent a sweet little quiver down her spine.

“Over there.” He pointed. “See it?”

The structure reminded her of a columned doorway from Roman times, standing by itself on the other side of the lake as if it might lead to another world.

Dane murmured, “It was the front entry to railroad tycoon Alban Towne’s Nob Hill mansion. It’s all that was left after the 1906 earthquake. Just the entryway. It was moved here as a reminder of all that was lost that fateful day in San Francisco, when our fair city burned to the ground after the great earthquake.”

She felt his heat everywhere along her skin, the timbre of his voice resonating deep inside her. She wanted to lean back, to lay her head on his shoulder and look at him. But all she could do was whisper, “It’s beautiful.”

“You’ve never seen it before?”

She shook her head, her hair brushing his cheek. “Never heard of it.” It wasn’t far from the soccer field where they’d played the game that Sunday in January.

“You said the tulip garden was serene. I feel that here, like it’s a peaceful place.” His breath washed over her ear as he chuckled. “Except Pebble Beach, of course, when we’re hiking in the woods.”

On a spring weekday, just the two of them were at the lake, and the beauty and harmony enveloped them. The intimacy of his body so close and his breath in her hair shot tingles to all her erogenous zones.

“Thank you for showing me this.”

“Thank you for showing me the tulips. Sometimes we forget to stop and smell the flowers.”

She couldn’t even laugh at the cliché. The moment was too perfect. And she nodded against him, reluctant to step away. If only they could stay this way forever.

How long they gazed at the portal she couldn’t say. A path led around the lake, and they could have walked through the columns, but somehow the memorial was best seen from afar, as if you could step through into the San Francisco of the early 1900s. Getting too close would ruin the effect.

“Where to now?” he finally asked, even as she remained mesmerized by his nearness.

To his bed, she thought. It was the only place she really wanted to be.

But it was the only place she could never be. Not ever again.

“We should ride a cable car.” The words almost burst from her, as if she needed the clickety-clack of a cable car and the laughter of other people to burst the bubble in which they stood.

She called another Uber. It dropped them off a couple of blocks from the cable car turnaround near Union Square so they didn’t have to wait in the long line with the other tourists. And soon they swung up onto the running board of an overpacked car, Cammie’s heart in her throat when she thought her foot might slip. Dane was right there, helping her grab a pole and paying the fare in exact change when the conductor came by. They went up, up, up the monumental hills of San Francisco, turned left on California and then right on Hyde, the car swaying as she held on tight. At the top of Lombard Street, the crookedest street in the world, the crush of bodies eased as many of the passengers jumped off for their turn to walk down among the blooming hydrangeas.

Dane pulled her inside, where it was still standing room only. “Unless you want to get off here and walk down Lombard.”

She shook her head. He was so close behind her she didn’t want to move, not even an inch. “I’ve done that. Let’s ride all the way to Ghirardelli Square.”

“Sounds good to me.” His breath whispered across her hair. The cable car’s jolt as it took off again pressed her against him. And somehow she just stayed there.

Even above the clank and clang of the car, she was sure she heard him breathe deeply, as though he was sniffing her hair. His heat caressed her spine, sending more tingles through her, all the way to her fingers and toes. And other parts.

It was crazy. It was unprofessional. And it was exhilarating.

* * *

Dane breathed her in as if she were a life-giving elixir. Allowing the cable car’s gripman behind him plenty of room to work the manual brakes, he used it as an excuse to hold her close. And he felt her everywhere.

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