We were seated near the back of Saffron, which was surprisingly both luxurious and soulful. The food was warm, rich with spices, and the lighting made everything and everyone look ten percent more attractive.

    Speaking of attractive, my date certainly continued to be so as the evening progressed, and he didn’t need that extra ten percent lighting boost either.

    Jonah Lamarre was precisely the kind of man you were supposed to want.

    He was charming without being smarmy, stylish without trying too hard, and funny in an effortless, low-key manner that didn’t scream for attention. He asked questions. Listened to my answers. Complimented the oysters like they were artwork.

    And…I liked him.

    The date was easy.

    Pleasant.

    Like slipping into warm waterfortable, calm, not too deep.

    So why do I still feel like I am floating in someone else’s dream?

    Probably because he’s here.

    What irony that Gage should stand witness to my first date since I lost him, lost us?

    I spotted him the second we walked in, even before I knew I was looking for him.

    He sat across from a tall, stunning woman. He was paying attention to her. I doubted he’d seen me and even if he did, I doubt I’d registered beyond, ah, there’s the woman I once fucked.

    Seeing him with another woman was like swallowing something sharp, especially since I knew that my being here with another man would not affect him at all.

    I tried to keep the conversation with Jonah flowing, but it kept snagging…on the memory of Gage’s hand around my waist, his mouth on my neck, the way he used to hold me when we slept.

    I hated that I still felt it—my love for him, a throbbing wound.

    Hated that even now, monthster, the air shifted when he was in the same room.

    If Jonah noticed, he didn’t mention it. I was an obvious introvert, so maybe he just took it as my personality.

    By the time dessert was offered and declined, I was a mass of disparate feelings. I’d done my best topartmentalize the man on the other side of the restaurant with a woman he was probably going to take to his ce, since we were in Uptown, from the man who would not be taking me to his ce, no matter where it was.

    Would Gage make love to her on his handmade redwood dining table? Would he eat her out as he….

    Stop it, Naomi. You’re hurting yourself.

    Jonah raised his ss to the woman sitting with Gage. “That’s Sloane Rousseau. You know her?”

    “Know of her.” She was the heiress of the Rousseau fortune.

    What was she doing slumming with a construction worker? I thought bitterly. Maybe exactly what Jonah was doing, slumming with an intimates shop owner.

    He regarded me with quiet consideration. “And the man with her?”

    I hesitated and then pulled myself together. “Yes, I know him,” I remarked casually as I folded my napkin.

    He eased backfortably in his chair. “He did reno work for you?”

    I licked my lips. “No…ah…the building next door.” Then I decided, the hell with it. I wasn’t embarrassed about having had a thing with Gage. “We dated for a minute.”

    He nodded, slow and deliberate. “Was it serious?”

    I put on my favorite mask, that of an insouciant woman. “Very casual.”

    “Well with Gage, I would be surprised if you said it was anything but.”

    He sipped his wine with nonchnce, and I couldn’t help but wonder—was he ying with me? Did he see how much I still loved Gage, that I was just testing the waters to see how far I could go?

    Or maybe he knows that casual rtionships are part of being a grown-up, Naomi. You should try it sometime.

    I nced at him. “You know him well?”

    “No.” He gave a careless shrug. “But in New Orleans, reputations are like humidity. They settle on you whether you want them or not.”

    I sipped thest of my wine. “That’s cryptic.”

    He eased forward, elbows braced on the table. “Not at all. A woman who knew him…and knew me, once told me that he was a man who built houses and didn’t let people live in his heart.”

    I gave him a tight-lipped look and then added because his remark had struck home, “Are we really going to talk about another man while we’re on a date?”

    He seemed puzzled for a moment and then let out a bark ofughter. “You are special, aren’t you, Naomi?”

    “Isn’t everyone?” I challenged.

    “You’re more so than others. It’s not just that you’re beautiful, it’s the grace with which you carry yourself.” He picked up my hand thaty on the table and brushed his lips over my knuckles. “I can’t believe he had you and let you go.”

    I arched an eyebrow and slowly slipped my hand from his. “If we’re bringing up one of my exes, maybe we should throw in one of yours—just to keep things bnced.”

    He was pissing me off now.

    “I sit on the Jazz Festival board with Gage,” he exined. “That’s all, and I am sorry for being so uncouth. I think I’m jealous.”

    “You think? You don’t know?”

    Heughed again, soft, self-deprecating. “Your candor is refreshing. I like a woman who knows herself.”

    Thankfully, he veered off Gage, and I wished my brain would do the same.

    We were nearly at the door when Jonah’s eyes flicked sideways, a flicker of amusement ghosting over his face.

    I turned and saw Gage with his date, just a few steps behind us. I expected him to pass by like a ghost, pretend I didn’t exist. Instead, he stopped.

    “Naomi.” His gaze dropped to where Jonah’s hand rested lightly at the small of my back…before lifting to meet mine.

    “Gage,” I replied evenly, managing a smile I didn’t feel.

    “Jonah,” Gage added, his tone cool.

    “Gage,” Jonah echoed, just as coolly, not bothering to smile.

    Sloane greeted Jonah with a pair of air kisses and a hug that was a touch too familiar. They all knew each other, of course—small city, big money, ovepping circles.

    We stood there awkwardly close, Sloane and Jonah making small talk while Gage and I said nothing at all. The scent of his cologne curled around me, familiar and sharp.

    Sloane and Jonah talked while Gage and I didn’t.

    We did say goodnight and something on the lines of, “nice to see you” or some other such lie and went on our way.

    Thanks to traffic being light, we were home quickly—no time to dissect that weird meeting at the door of Saffron. My ex, my date’s colleague, my ex’s new woman, my date…what a freaking mess! But also, a harsh reality check. Gage had moved on. I should as well.

    So, when Jonah asked me if he could see me again as he walked me to my door, I replied with an enthusiastic yes.

    I hated that I was using Jonah to help me heal.

    I’d tried to get over Gage for months, and hadn’t been sessful. Maybe if I spent time with another man….