of the pads of his fingers. She wondered if he still rowed, recalling the thick calluses he had built up in college. Then she pulled apart the patterned paper and stopped. Tulips—dozens of Rembrandt tulips, the striated, white-and-red, white-and-orange, and white-and-purple flowers depicted by the Flemish master.
“They’re your favorites, right?” he asked.
She looked up. “I’m amazed. How did you remember?”
“You didn’t think Stephen kept track of those kinds of things, did you? I may not have graduated magna like some people I know—” he tipped his chin down as he eyed her “—but I’ve got a pretty good memory for details.”
Lilah pressed her nose to the flowers. The waxy petals were just starting to open, and their faint perfume was intensely fresh. She closed her eyes for a moment, and felt transported back to a simpler time when her worries consisted of studying Old Masters, not worrying whether she could help yet another woman get proper obstetrical care rather than risk death in childbirth.
She opened her tired eyes. “You always did remember the details—especially when it involved women.” Irony was the only emotion she seemed able to muster.
“I’m not sure that’s entirely a compliment, but I’ll just assume it is.” He looked around, then pointed to her backpack. “Is that all you’ve got?”
“That and my laptop.” She held up the case for him to see. “I prefer to travel light. It’s just easier, faster. I’m all about streamlining.”
He nodded uncertainly. “I can imagine the advantages. Well, let me take your pack.” He didn’t bother to wait and moved to take it off her shoulders. He slipped his long fingers between the padded strap and the thin cotton of her T-shirt.
Lilah felt her skin prickle. She blinked. I really must be tired after the flight from Spain, not to mention the hard work getting the race all sorted out. The race… That’s right. Her muscles were still sore.
Yes, she was tired, but even Lilah couldn’t deny the ego boost of having a good-looking male in his absolute prime touching her body—even if it was strictly on a practical level and wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination accompanied by smoldering looks. Ah, the imagination…
Lilah watched Justin sling her pack over one shoulder as if it contained only a fistful of Ping-Pong balls instead of the forty-pounds-plus of clothing and paperwork stuffed into its bulging sides. Relieved of the weight, she felt as if her spine had decompressed and she’d grown an inch. And she would have felt even more relieved if she didn’t still feel the residual tingle of Justin’s touch.
“Shall we go find the car, then?” he asked with a nod of his head.
That tingle she was feeling just got even more annoying because it appeared that Justin was totally oblivious to the same hypersensitivity. Lilah frowned. The decision to return to Grantham appeared to promise additional obstacles. At least, maybe she could find out about the obvious one that had been bugging her ever since she’d heard about the award. “I was wondering. I know you said you weren’t Stephen’s emissary, but do you know if he’s planning on coming this weekend?” She tried to sound oh-so-casual. She practically had to hop to keep up with Justin’s long strides.
“As far as I know, he’s not coming to Reunions. So you’re safe,” he said, waiting for her to go through the revolving door first.
Lilah stopped. “Safe? I think the embarrassment factor is still pretty high. I can’t begin to remember the number of times I poured out my soul to you. About the only thing I do remember is that it was way more than to Stephen.”
“And you never thought that was one of the problems with your relationship?” He scooted in behind her into the slowly turning segment of the revolving door.
She was conscious of his legs coming perilously close to the back of her thighs. Lilah cleared her throat. “Let’s leave that evaluation aside for now, okay? I don’t need you to lecture me on how I wronged your good buddy. Besides, for all I know, as soon as you’re alone, you’ll immediately contact him to let him know my rear end is bigger than ever.”
Finally, the slowly revolving door deposited them on the sidewalk, and she stumbled out on the pavement. The fresh air should have been a relief, but this was Newark, and fresh air was a relative concept given the bus and taxi fumes.
Justin followed closely behind. “I won’t text, let alone communicate with Stephen in any form. I should let you know, I haven’t kept up with him since graduation.”
Lilah raised her eyebrows. “You’re kidding me.”
“So you’ve nothing to worry about on that score.” He held his arm out toward the street. “We need to cross here. I’m parked in the lot across the way.”
“But you two were practically joined at the hip in college.”
“Except where you were concerned,” he reminded her. “And by the way, I don’t know where you get off saying your butt is too big. Anyone can see you’re incredibly fit and trim.” He started to cross the street when the light changed. “In fact, if anything, you could probably afford to gain a few pounds.”
She shouldn’t have felt pleased, but she was. It was the inner-anorexic in all women who were once overweight. “Well, I run a lot these days—the job kind of requires it. So, it’s hard to gain weight.”
“You could try eating more.”
“Eating? Who has time for eating?”
“Lots of folks do. It’s called three square meals a day.”
“I know. It’s something we try to make happen in the villages.”
He slanted her a glance. “And you don’t practice what you preach?” He kept up a steady pace as they passed the rows of cars.
Lilah frowned. Why did he seem angry with her? She took a few giant strides to catch up. “Wait a minute. I don’t get it,” she called out after him.
Justin stopped. He fished some keys out of his pocket and waited.
She jogged to his side. “Tell me this. If you’re not here because Stephen sent you to escort me, why are you here?”
A giant SUV pulled out of the row near them, and the driver gunned the engine as he raced off.
“Why am I here?” he repeated. “To tell you the truth, I don’t usually get too involved with Reunions stuff.” He wet his top lip. “I’m here because of you.”
“Me?” Lilah stopped while Justin opened the trunk of a green sports car. She looked down. “And this…this…little car is yours?”
“This is not just a little car. It’s a fully restored…well, partially restored—I still have some body work to do—Triumph TR4, a British classic.” He gazed at it lovingly.
The rust around the back fender didn’t exactly induce confidence. “Is it roadworthy?” she asked.
He narrowed his eyes. “Careful, or I’ll change my mind.” He shut the trunk lid and gave it an extra push to make sure it closed. Then he turned to her. “I
