“The law’s a weighty business, Muldoon.” His grip on her forced her to slow her pace to his. He strolled when she would have strode. “So, how’s it going with Nick?”

“It’s better. At least I think it’s better. He balked at the idea of Rio teaching him to cook, but the idea of busing tables didn’t seem to bother him much. He still won’t talk to me—I mean really talk to me. But it’s only been a week.”

“You’ve got seven more.”

“Yeah.” He let go of her arm long enough to reach into his pocket and take out a handful of change. He dropped it into a panhandler’s cup in a gesture so automatic that Rachel assumed he made a habit of it. “I figure if they could turn me from a green recruit into a sailor in about the same amount of time, I have a pretty good shot at this.”

“Do you miss it?” She tilted her head up to his. “Being at sea?”

“Not so much anymore. Sometimes I still wake up at night and think I’m aboard ship.” Then there were the nightmares, but that wasn’t something a man shared with a woman. “Once things are stable, I’m planning on buying a boat, maybe taking a couple of months and sailing down to the Islands. Maybe a nice ketch, forty-two feet—not too fancy.” He could already see it, a trim little honey, quick to the touch, brass and mahogany gleaming, white sails bulging in the wind. He imagined Rachel would look just fine standing at the bow. “You ever done any sailing?”

“Not unless you count taking the ferry over to Liberty Island.”

“You’d like it.” He skimmed his fingers lightly down her arm. “It’s what you might call an outlet.”

Rachel decided it was safer not to comment. When they reached her building, she turned to him, holding out a hand for her briefcase. “Thanks for the flowers, and the walk. I’ll probably come by the bar tomorrow after work and look in on Nick.”

Instead of giving her the briefcase, he closed his hand over hers. “I took the night off, Rachel. I want to spend it with you.”

Her quick jolt of alarm both pleased and amused him. “Excuse me?”

“Maybe I should rephrase that. I’d like to spend the night with you—several nights running, in fact—but I’ll settle for the evening.” He managed to wind a lock of her hair around his finger before she remembered to bat his hand away. “Some food, some music. I know a place that does both really well. If the idea of a date makes you nervous…”

“I’m not nervous.” Not exactly, she thought.