“First Washington Capital Bank, Branch Manager Roger Dinsmore here.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” purred the woman on the phone. “You really should be here.”

I had to stifle a laugh as I shifted the phone to my shoulder. I glanced toward the door to my office, but no one loitered in the hall outside to overhear.

“Hello, Claire,” I said. “You know I would love to be there with you, but I don’t think John would like it.”

“John wouldn’t care. Or if he did, it wouldn’t matter. We’re divorced.”

I sat up straight and nearly fumbled the phone. “Really?”

“Mmmm, hmmm. Well, not officially yet. However, he has taken his own flat in Hampstead, leaving me so alone to rattle around in this big place.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No you’re not. You never liked him.”

“He never liked me,” I protested.

“You were a threat, darling. I almost ran off with you.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Oh, but can you be sure? We had such wonderful times together.”

I let out a sigh. That year in London had been one of the best of my life, and Claire had been a big part of it. I’d sensed the chemistry when we’d first met, when my colleague Jimmy had dragged me along to meet his old friends. Claire had looked me up and down as if I were a Greek god instead of just an American intern. I’d returned the favor, noting the low smolder in her eyes and lips that pursed as if to spit forth a quip worthy of Wilde. Then I’d noted the man standing possessively close to her—tall, dark, aristocratic, and curling his lip as he regarded ‘the nasty Yank,’ as he’d later called me. Of course, if Jimmy hadn’t insisted on me joining his ‘gang,’ I never would have heard his verbal sneers….

“But John is, well, John is happier now. Or at least he will be when he thinks it through.”

I snorted. “That’s what you said to me.”

She laughed. “And I was so wrong. Ah, well. Perhaps I will be wrong about John as well.”

“Perhaps.”

“But in the meantime, you should be here.”

I laughed. “I can’t just jump a plane to London on a whim.”

“Mmmm, but I’m not in London. I’m in Washington, at Dulles. My flight home was cancelled and they’ve rescheduled me for eight tonight. Perhaps you could come out for a little tête-à-tête?”

I let out a long breath. I looked at the stack of papers on my desk. I looked at my jammed daytimer. I looked at the clock. There would be hell to pay.

“Oh, but you must come out. This whole trip has been dreary and I need some excitement.” Her voice dropped low. “Wouldn’t you like some excitement with me?”

I sighed, but my cock knew no reason. It stiffened anyway.

“How about lunch?” I said. “I’ll call your cell when I get to the airport.”

“Brilliant! See you soon!”

She gave me her number and then hung up. Meanwhile, I mentally kicked myself for once again behaving like an eager puppy when it came to Claire.

The entire drive down the Dulles Access Road, I wondered what the hell I was doing. It was just so... Claire. The absolutely last minute plans. The refusal to let me politely decline her request. And the teasing innuendo that I knew, just knew, wouldn’t lead to anything.

We’d been down that path too many times before. Every time ‘the gang’ got together, she’d flirt outrageously with me and only tone it down when John was standing nearby. Finally, one night I called her on it when John had stepped away to the bar for more drinks.

“You know you’re just a tease,” I’d said. “Tormenting me for fun. All heat and no flame.”

She arched an eyebrow and excused herself to the ladies’ room. When she returned, she thrust a small ball of fabric into my blazer pocket. Her panties of course. I hadn’t been able to keep my attention off her all evening, even when she once again went home with John.

I’d finally escaped her maddening cat and mouse games when my year had ended and I’d returned to the States. But now she was here.

Claire met me curbside and slid into the passenger’s seat as I pulled up.

“Thank God!” she said. “I thought I was doomed to an afternoon of warmed fast food and tabloid magazines.”

“I’m sure you would have found something to keep you entertained.”

She chuckled. “Perhaps. But I’m sure we’ll come up with something far better.”

At least I managed ‘better’ for lunch. I whisked Claire to a top seafood restaurant in Reston. We reminisced and made small talk, mostly about ‘the gang,’ until dessert arrived and we’d each consumed our first glass of wine and were well into our second. And of course we flirted like we’d always done.

“So,” I said after a chit-chat pause, “why did you and John split up? You seemed very committed to him.”

She sighed. “I was. But married life was… dull. We started fighting all the time because I wanted to go into the City and he just wanted to sit in front of the telly.”

“You used to go out all the time with us,” I said. “In fact, you organized a bunch of the outings.”

“Yes, but we were dating then. Once we were married....” She threw up her hands dismissively. Then her eyes met mine before dropping to the table.