“You are?” I hated how flirty I sounded. “Okay, um, good, um . . .” I heard myself breathing into the receiver.

“Hmm-mmm. I was hoping you’d call,” Hal said in a smooth voice as warm as roasted chestnuts.

“Oh, okay, um,” I said, regaining my composure. “Have I caught you at a good time?”

“Yes, this is a very good time,” he said. “How’ve you been, Ruth?”

“I’m great, I’m great.” I sat in my chair and swiveled side to side. I was enjoying this.

“Have you finished your article about your professor?” he said. It was kind of him to remember Professor Judith.

“Oh, um, yes, and that’s why I’m calling.” I grabbed a pen and a tablet of paper and pressed my shoulder to my ear, squeezing the phone in place.

“It is?” he said, sounding surprised. Was he challenging me?

“Yes, I thought I could explore a piece about, you know, successful attorneys doing pro bono work in these challenging economic times,” I said, drawing doodles on the paper.

“I’m glad you think of me as successful.”

This flirting was thrilling and disarming all at once. I wanted to keep him on the phone just to listen to that deep voice. His voice in my ear, so close to my brain, so close to the thoughts I’d kept of him, his eyes, his smile and his broad shoulders, the images I’d kept replaying, my own private movie, wondering what it would be like to have his arms around me, his peppermint breath near my cheek, his lips close enough to kiss.

“I’d say so, I mean, you’re a partner at a big law firm and—”

“Would you meet me for dinner tonight?” He cut me off again, taking charge. Every instinct I had wanted to say yes to him.

“Uh . . . I don’t know,” I said.

“Or tomorrow night, if that’s better.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, I mean . . .” I looked at my closed office door, wondering what everyone would say about me dating a married man. We were a tight team, mostly women, and we were small enough to know what everyone else was up to. To do our job well, we had to be in touch frequently and help each other; our work was entirely collaborative. There wouldn’t be a way for me to keep this from them for long.

“Why not?” he said.

I wanted Hal to tell me he wasn’t really married. Maybe he’d gotten divorced since the awards dinner. “Because dinner with you sounds like, you know, it sounds like—”

“—sounds like what? A date?” he said.

“Yeah, sort of,” I said, but I wasn’t ready to admit that. Or to admit that’s what I wanted.

“You’re aware that, technically, I’m married.” His words landed with a thud.