Sandra Brown: Play Dirty

She looked at him quizzically as he passed it to her. “What’s this?”

“One way to find out.”

She held it, hesitating a moment before pulling the end of the ribbon to untie the bow. He realized he was holding his breath as she removed the lid. Lying on a bed of satin was a tiny gold star with an infinitesimal diamond in its center. She kept her head down, staring at the charm, so he couldn’t see her reaction. But she remained so still he began to think this had been a lousy idea.

When another moment passed and she still didn’t say anything, he tried to justify himself. “It wasn’t very far along, I know. Probably no bigger than that diamond. But…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “But there’s no marker, you know? Nothing to show that it ever existed. And it did. At least for a few weeks.”

She kept her head down, didn’t move. Shit! Bad idea. Really, really bad. He should just shut up about it and leave. Instead, he said, “I thought you might like to have something to remember it by.”

When she finally raised her head, her face was wet with tears. “I’ll always remember it. I’ll hold it in my heart for as long as I live.”

They moved simultaneously. His arms enfolded her, and he held on like he would never let her go. He might have vowed as much. Afterward, he couldn’t remember for sure what declarations he’d made at some later time and which ones he’d made right then, just before cupping her face in his hands and lifting it to his. He did remember telling her he loved her, repeating it as he kissed her lips, her eyes, cheeks, and brow. Finally their lips met and they kissed deeply and ardently.

And then for the longest time, as afternoon turned to evening, they sat on the sofa together, enjoying the fire, holding hands, and talking. They talked about nothing that was too serious. They swapped anecdotes. They exchanged frivolous information. They laughed often.

It was their first date.