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He stopped short for a second. He never had thoughts like that with other women he’d slept with. Never had a problem leaving after the moment had passed. As he plucked his clothes from the floor and the coffee table where he’d thrown them earlier, he realized he didn’t really want to say goodbye. He wanted to see her again.
That didn’t happen often, either. But Della was...different. She leaned on the doorjamb between the living room and the entryway, watching him, looking sleepy, and maybe a bit sad.
Or was Gabe imagining that? Wishful thinking?
Once he was dressed, he planted his hands on his hips, took a breath, his resolve returning.
“I should get some sleep,” she said, clearly trying to avoid the awkward goodbye. “Thank you. I hope you...have a nice stay in the city.”
“Della, wait.”
He walked toward her and drew her into a hug, kissed her hair, then her cheek and her lips, before he backed away.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Her lips parted like she was going to say something, but no words came out, so he walked to the door, stepping out into the early morning darkness. The upper Manhattan streets were quiet. There wasn’t a cab in sight, so Gabe headed to the nearest subway station, refocusing on his task and leaving Della’s welcoming warmth behind.
* * *
DELLA DIDN’T HEAR the conversation going on around her, she was too busy thinking about randomness. The odds of her meeting Gabe were, in the context of the entire world, astronomical. If he hadn’t been seated next to her, would the night before have even happened? Would they have met by some other mechanism? Would she have tripped over his foot in the aisle on her way to the bathrooms, and he might have caught her? Or would they still have mixed up their bags?
No, her analytical mind rebelled. That would suggest fate or determinism. That they were “meant to be.” That was romantic nonsense, according to her mathematician’s mind. It was impossible to know how they ended up sitting next to each other, only that they did. If she had more data, such as when they had bought tickets, how many seats were gone at the time and a swath of other information, she could figure out the probabilities. Then their ending up together would seem far less magical.
But the night they’d spent together had been magic. Chemistry, not physics.
“Della? Della, what do you think? What do you have there?”
Chloe Brown, her colleague and friend, marched across the carpeted floor of the fancy dressing room to pluck a napkin from Della’s fingers that had been under her champagne glass. The ladies she had been chatting with walked back out into the main area of the store, no doubt to retrieve more dresses.
Chloe’s huge blue eyes widened as she glanced at the paper in her hand.
“Math? You’re doing math? I need opinions on this dress, and then we need to get your dress, as well. The wedding is in three weeks, you know.” Chloe sighed. “I must have been out of my mind to agree to such a rushed date, but with Justin’s job moving, we couldn’t wait.”
“I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to be the one supporting you, but I’m just distracted today,” Della apologized.
She should be focusing more on the dress choices and helping Chloe, but all she seemed to be able to think about was what happened with Gabe last night.
Chloe looked at the napkin more closely.
“Wait a minute...what’s that graph? Who’s Gabe?”
Della had forgotten that she’d labeled her variables with G and D, and reached to snatch the slip of paper from Chloe’s hands.
“Nuh-uh. Come to think of it, you were late this morning, and you’re never late. You have shadows under your eyes, like you didn’t sleep well. And what’s that red mark behind your ear...is that a hickey?”
Della scrunched her shoulders, hiding the mark, and inwardly chastising herself for not wearing a scarf, but it was summer in New York—wearing a scarf would draw even more attention.
“What are you, a detective?” Della grumbled, sticking her tongue out, but having a tough time hiding a smile.
She, Della Clark, had girl talk to share.
How many times had she sat at lunch or out for drinks, listening to friends talk about their dates, man troubles and sex lives, when she had nothing to contribute. Now she did.
But she was finding it hard to talk about her news, surprisingly.
What would Chloe think of her? She was marrying a guy she’d been with for years, since college. And Della had taken a man she met on the plane to her apartment for a night of amazing sex.
And she wished she could do it again. Maybe that was the problem with her dating life. She was looking for Mr. Right instead of Mr. Right Now. If she wanted great sex, did she really need a relationship?
Chloe plopped down in the large, cushiony chair next to Della, the satin and lace of the dress she wore billowing all around her. Della reached out and took one edge of the lovely fabric between her fingers, marveling at how soft it was and how detailed the design of the lace.
“It almost looks like fractals,” Della murmured, studying the design.
Was she really only interested in one-time sex? It satisfied a short-term goal, for sure, but what about longer-term goals? What about a day when she might get to wear a dress like this? Have children? Grow old with someone?
What if she missed meeting the man she could spend the rest of her life with when she was pursuing simple pleasure? Not that any of her dating profile responses today looked any more promising than before on either score.
“Della, honey, tell me what happened,” Chloe said, breaking into her thoughts and taking Della’s hand with a friendly squeeze.
“I don’t know if I made a mistake. But it’s made me rethink everything,” Della said. “I’m a little confused.”
Once she started telling Chloe about Gabe, and what had happened, it all poured out much more easily than she thought it would. Chloe listened, and when Della was finally finished explaining as much as she could—without certain details, of course—she saw her friend was smiling.
“Well. Good for you, Della. It’s about time.”
Della sat back in the chair, surprised. “You don’t think I’m a...well, a slut?”
Chloe burst out laughing. “No, not at all. It sounds to me like you met a great guy and had a good time. No harm in that. I slept with Justin the first night we met, too. And had fun with quite a few men I knew before him. There’s nothing wrong with sex for fun.”
“Really?”
“Really. Who knows, a one-night stand could be your wedding-dress guy someday. Stranger things happen. People meet in all kinds of ways.”
“I just wish... I’d really like to see him again. Gabe. I feel like last night was kind of a dream, and believe me, the odds of me finding another man like him are not high.”
“Well, why don’t you see him again?”
“Our meeting was totally random and totally random things are not repeatable,” Della said, and then saw that look on her friend’s face.
“This has nothing to do with math, Della. What’s really going on?”
“He made it clear it was just a one-night thing. He’s only here for a short time, works with the government, something with Homeland Security. When he left, he didn’t say he wanted to see me again. Or what if I did, and it wasn’t as good? Maybe last night was just a fluke.”
Chloe paused, sitting back in her chair. “There’s only one way to find out. You contacted him once about your bags, just contact him again. You don’t have to wait for him to ask, Della. You can ask for what you want, and you should.”
Della frowned. “I don’t know, I feel weird calling him again. Especially for, um, you know for—”
“For sex. Believe me, he won’t mind,” Chloe said with a chuckle. “The worst that can happen is that he says no, or doesn’t pick up the call. Then you have your answer.”
Della shook her head. “And if he says yes, what if I miss my chance at someone else really great?”
“By the looks of the responses you have on your dating profile, I don’t think you have to worry about that anytime soon. If you want to see this guy again, you need to go for it.”
Della was tempted, but not convinced. She’d worked with men her entire life, and she was used to being the only woman in the room many times when it came to lectures or think tanks, but this was different. She would feel so foolish if he said no, and that would put a pall on the entire experience. Wouldn’t it be better just to enjoy the memory?
No, she was just making excuses.
“Think of it this way. It’s practice, right? You haven’t had a lot of chances to be with men who really know what they’re doing, and now you met one. Enjoy it, work off some steam and get some mad skills in bed for when you do meet Mr. Forever.”
Della brightened slightly. “That’s true.”
“And if he’s working for DHS, he has to be pretty trustworthy, right? What kind of work does he do for them? Is there some kind of problem in the city? Some new threat?”
Chloe looked slightly worried suddenly.
“Oh no, nothing like that,” Della reassured. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be hooking up with me if it was anything that serious. But we didn’t really talk about work that much.”
“If you must calculate odds, the best bet is that if you meet him again, you’ll have a great time. A guy that good in bed doesn’t lose his skills overnight, so take advantage while you can. Anything else, you can’t know for sure, no matter how many algorithms you apply.”
Della realized Chloe was right. It was her downfall that she often made things more complicated rather than simplifying them. Divide, instead of multiply. Just call Gabe and see what happened, and no matter what happened, she would have made a decision. It was better than drowning in what-ifs.
“You’re right. I feel so much better. I’ll call him after we’re done here,” she said, excitement making her bounce in her seat.
“Great! Maybe we could even do a double date, or if he’s here for a while, he could be your wedding date, perhaps?”
“Let’s see if he even talks to me. I don’t want to count on anything.”
Chloe smiled. “Now you’re learning. Just enjoy the moment. But still, if there’s a chance, I’d love to meet him. He sounds like quite a guy.”
Della smiled in return. “That would be nice. Thanks, Chloe.”
“You’re welcome. Now, what do you think of this dress? It’s the one I keep coming back to, but the cost is through the roof.”
Chloe stood, and Della, having made her decision to call Gabe and take control of her destiny—or at least of her sex life—was able to focus on the task at hand. She followed her friend to the mirror, studying how lovely Chloe looked in the gown. The special moment settled in, and tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away.
“I love it. It’s perfect. You only get married once, Chloe, and you should have the dress you dream about.”
Chloe looked like she was blinking away tears as well, and nodded.
“You have a romantic streak, Della. And it’s so good to have you here. I know we’ve known each other for less than a year, and this wedding was sort of a rush, but you’ve been such a good friend. And with none of my own family around, you’ve really become more like a sister.”
Now Della did get teary, as she had no siblings, either. To think that Chloe felt that way about her was very moving.
“Thank you. I feel exactly the same. I’m so honored that you asked me to be your maid of honor, even though you know I have no clue what I’m doing.”
They laughed, and Chloe grinned. “How are the dance lessons coming along?”
Della made a face. “I suck.”
Chloe laughed again. “You’re being too hard on yourself. You haven’t had much time to learn. And you need a good partner. Maybe Gabe can help you out,” she added with a hint of mischief.
Della bit her lip, wondering. She hadn’t considered that, or that perhaps Gabe would be her date to some wedding events, if he was around. Justin’s best man was married, so Della had resigned herself to going solo, but maybe...?
Don’t go there, she reminded herself. That way lay disappointment. Just enjoy whatever happens, if anything does happen.
“So, now that we know what I’m wearing to this event, we need to try on your selections.”
“Selections? I haven’t made any selections yet.”
“I did,” Chloe said mischievously.
Della rolled her eyes, but submitted as Chloe signaled to the saleslady to bring in some of the dresses she had set aside for Della.
Chloe was always chiding her about her bland style, wearing mostly black and grey, wool and cotton, and relatively modest clothes. The skirt and tank top she’d worn out with Gabe the night before had been obtained on a shopping trip with Chloe, who had given in on the black tank top, but convinced her to buy the form-fitting denim skirt.
Gabe had clearly approved, and so Della decided maybe Chloe had a point.
The saleslady brought in three dresses, and all of them made Della gasp.
“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” Chloe cooed. “C’mon, try them on.”
Della was led away by the saleswoman, along with the gowns. The assortment ranged among shades of rose, which was Chloe’s choice, of course, and all three were as daring as they were...sensual.
The first one was a Grecian, off-the-shoulder style of sheer, draped material that caught at the waist with a silver pin. It moved around her in the most wonderful froth of fabric Della had ever imagined. When she walked, it was if she were floating.
“Oh, that one is superb. It would drive any man crazy,” Chloe said approvingly.
“It’s very comfortable, too. I like it.”
“Try the next, anyway. We need to see all of them.”
Grudgingly, she did so. The second one had a neckline so deep Della was pretty sure she could probably step out of the dress through the front. Chloe liked it, but commented that Della would probably have to tape her breasts in place, so as not to have a fashion faux pas. Della nixed that dress immediately.
The third was more modestly cut, but fit like a glove, and because of that, was even more revealing than the others.
“I like it,” Della said, studying her image in the mirror with Chloe. She looked so sleek, and the dress seemed to compress all of her curves into a very nice shape. “But it doesn’t feel as nice as the first one, and it would be difficult to dance in this one. I really like the Grecian style, and I would rather move comfortably.”
“Agreed. And the first is a very romantic dress, while still being sexy. It also looked the best with your hair color and figure. I was worried that rose color, with your strawberry, would be a clash, but that shade works. I think because it’s muted, and the off-the-shoulder style takes the color away from your neckline, so it shows off that amazing skin of yours, rather than clashing with your hair.”
Della smirked. “You really think a lot about these kinds of things. Good thing one of us does.”
Chloe chuckled. “You have basically good instincts. You just need to be a bit more daring.”
“So this is decided?”
“Yes. Do you want to go get a coffee to celebrate?”
“I can’t,” Della said, looking at her watch. “I wanted to drop some paperwork off downtown, and I have an appointment after that.”
