Temptation Read Free Page B

one person meant for you” destiny crap.’
    Another of her laughs. But then she said, ‘Well, actually I do. I just haven’t met the guy yet.’
    Once again, the tone was blithe. Once again, a glance passed between us.
    But it was only a glance, and we were quickly back in our conversational whirl. I was astonished by the way we couldn’t stop talking, how we riffed off each other, and shared such a similar world-view. The sense of connection was astonishing . . . and a little terrifying. Because – unless I was reading things very wrong – the mutual attraction was enormous.
    Eventually, we got down to business. She asked me to tell her about my proposed pilot. My pitch was a sentence long:
    ‘The harassed professional and personal life of a middle-aged female marriage counsellor.’
    She smiled. ‘That’s good. First question, is she divorced?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘Troubled kids?’
    ‘A teenage daughter who thinks that Mom is a serious jerk.’
    ‘Nice. Does our marriage counsellor have an ex-husband?’
    ‘Yes – and he ran off with a twenty-five-year-old yoga instructor.’
    ‘We’re obviously talking about an LA setting.’
    ‘I was thinking San Diego.’
    ‘Good call. The Southern California lifestyle without the LA baggage. Is the marriage counsellor dating?’
    ‘Relentlessly – and with disastrous results.’
    ‘And meanwhile, her clients . . . ?’
    ‘They’ll raise a smile, believe me.’
    ‘A title?’
    ‘
Talk It Over
.’
    ‘Sold then,’ she said.
    I tried not to smile too broadly.
    ‘You know I can’t start work until after the second season . . . ’
    ‘Alison briefed me on that already . . . and that’s fine with me. The important thing is: I’ve got you.’
    She briefly touched the top of my hand. I didn’t move it away.
    ‘I’m pleased,’ I said.
    She met my stare. And asked, ‘Dinner tomorrow night?’
    We met at her place in West Hollywood. As soon as I was through the door, we were tearing each other’s clothes off. Much later, as we lay sprawled across her bed, sipping a post-coital glass of Pinot Noir, she asked me, ‘Are you a good liar?’
    ‘You mean, about something like this?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘Well, it’s only the second time it’s happened in the eleven years I’ve been with Lucy.’
    ‘When was the first time?’
    ‘A one-night stand back in ’99 with an actress I met in the book shop one night. Lucy was back east at the time, visiting her parents with Caitlin.’
    ‘That’s it? Your only extramarital transgression?’
    I nodded.
    ‘My, my – you do have a conscience.’
    ‘It is a weakness, I know – especially out here.’
    ‘Are you going to feel guilty now?’
    ‘No,’ I said without hesitation.
    ‘Why’s that?’
    ‘Because things between Lucy and myself are now very different. And also . . . ’
    ‘Yes?’ she asked,
    ‘. . . because . . . well, because it’s you.’
    She kissed me softly on the lips.
    ‘Is that a confession?’
    ‘I guess it is.’
    ‘Well, I have one too. Ten minutes after meeting you yesterday, I felt: this is the guy. I felt it all last night and all today as I counted down the hours to seven o’clock, and you walking through my door. And now . . . ’
    She ran her right index finger down the curve of my jaw.
    ‘. . . now I’m not going to let you go.’
    I kissed her. ‘Is that a promise?’ I asked.
    ‘Girl Scout’s honor. But you know what this means . . . in the short term, anyway?’
    ‘Yes – I’m going to have to start learning how to lie.’
    Actually I had already started, having covered my first evening with Sally by telling Lucy that I was flying to Vegas overnight to do a little look-around for a future episode. Sally didn’t even mind when I used her phone at eleven to call home and tell my wife that I was happily ensconced in The Bellagio and missing her terribly. When I arrived home the next evening, I studied Lucy carefully for any telltale