Second Honeymoon

Chapter 34

SARAH RANG THE doorbell to Ted’s penthouse apartment for a second time, waiting in the hallway of the Piermont Residences in downtown Fairfax and wondering why he wasn’t answering. She knew he was there.

Only minutes earlier, she’d called his number from her own apartment four floors below, dialing *67 first to block her name from coming up on his caller ID.

It was all pretty funny, she thought, worthy of a giggle. The last time she called a boy and hung up as soon as he answered, she was probably in junior high school, listening to Bananarama on her Sony Walkman and wearing acid-washed Guess jeans.

Now here she was listening for Ted behind his door while wearing a long navy blue raincoat. And nothing else. Not a stitch underneath.

Kick up my heels? Go and have fun? If only Driesen could see me now. On second thought, that’s probably not a good idea.

If only Ted would answer the door. C’mon, honey, I’m starting to feel a draft underneath this coat. Not to mention the fact that I’m a tad bit embarrassed.

They’d only been dating for five months, after all. Then again, that was two months longer than her last relationship, and three months longer than the one before that.

With Ted, things seemed to be different, though. And much, much better. He was a successful D.C. attorney, “high-powered and even higher-charging,” according to a profile of him in the Washington Post. He knew all about the long hours and the strains of a professional career. Sure, maybe he had one too many macho photos of himself hanging in the apartment—white-water rafting, skiing the back bowls of Vail—but Sarah was willing to overlook a touch of vanity. He wasn’t the possessive type; he didn’t need to own her. That was nice; very nice.

Of course, the fact that he was totally smokin’ hot was a bonus.

Sarah pressed her ear tight against the door. She thought she could hear music coming from inside the apartment, but it didn’t seem loud enough to cover up the sound of the doorbell.

Then it dawned on her. It was just a hunch, but her hunches had been pretty good of late. Turning around, Sarah reached under the fire-hose cabinet attached to the wall opposite Ted’s door, her hand blindly feeling for a small magnetic box.

The definition of trust in a fledgling relationship? When he tells you where he keeps his spare key.

Maybe after tonight, she’d tell him where she kept hers.