Was I too eager? Valerie toothed her bottom lip as she stared at the text exchange. I know near nothing about him. Brilliant mind. Broad interests. Open with his thoughts. Why so protective of his identity? But God, his arms and shoulders. His eyes ...

Her reverie was interrupted by a knock on the open door, and she looked up from the phone as her Executive Assistant entered and said, "You're needed in the boardroom, Val."

"Thank you, Brad." She stood and adjusted her jacket. "What's this one?"

"Tweaking the SelMorTec offer."

"They've countered?" Valerie asked as they headed out the door.

"Likely. I heard that another company has approached them."

A quarter-hour later, after the board agreed to her recommendation to aggressively pursue the acquisition of the internet startup, Valerie returned to her office with Florence, her CIO.

"You appeared distracted in there, Val."

"Yeah." Valerie paused and nodded. "Yeah, I'm intrigued by a man I met a few weeks ago."

"Does he know who you are?"

"Only my first name and cell number."

"How did he get your number?"

"I gave him my personal one last week, hoping to increase his interest."

Florence pursed her lips. "Who is he?"

"A gentle soul with a brilliant mind." She sighed. "A broad-shouldered hunk, well over six feet tall, pale blue eyes and a gorgeous square-jawed face topped with unruly blond curls."

"Ooh! Why do I never meet any like him? Who is he?"

"I know only his first name." She pointed to her phone. "And now his cell number. A while ago, just before the board meeting, he sent a text inviting me to Valentine's Day dinner."

"Careful, Val – he may be a ruse planted to suss you out. Where did you meet him?"

"At the soup kitchen."

"Volunteering there like you?"

"Hmmm! Hadn't thought." She shrugged. "Likely with Community Services. He was at the other end of the serving line when I began, but increasingly intrigued by his looks and manner, I arranged to be moved beside him."

"Good. Not a recent arrival – and you initiated. Though for safety, you need to learn more about him before going any further."

"True." Valerie pursed her lips and nodded. "But he's so guarded with his personal information. That's why I wanted to talk with you. I need some tips on drawing him out – been ages since I was last tempted to snare a man."

"It's similar to how you use your drop-dead gorgeousness to mine corporate information." She chuckled. "Always love watching you do that. But for this, be less subtle with the sexual undertones and innuendo."

After a brief discussion, Florence left, and Valerie opened her phone to find nothing new from Lorne, so she scrolled up to reread his invitation.

Valentine's Dinner?

Love to

Overnight?

Not yet

Separate Rooms.

Hmmm

Long commute. Rushed dinner and very late back, otherwise.

I barely know you

Been five weeks.

Five brief encounters

Each increasingly intriguing.

Also for me

Need to confirm reservations.

By when?

Tomorrow. Could go somewhere simpler.

Yeah, might be best

Being called. Gotta go.

You there again this evening?

For sure. See you there.

Looking forward

Why am I so intrigued? She shook her head. Why is he suddenly showing interest in me, might be a better question. Has he found out who I am? 

Concerned by the possibilities, she rose from her desk and turned to gaze at the streets far below through the glazed walls of her corner office, reviewing memories of their conversations, analysing to sense whether she had revealed anything of her identity. The more she thought about him, the more intrigued she became and the more she questioned the risk. The ping of her phone broke her trance. 

A few quick steps took her back to the desk to read another text from Lorne.

Eager to see you, but might be late.

I'll be there

Great! Gotta go.

See you

She stared at her phone, waiting for further texts. Oh, God! So distracted by him. But if I don't try, I'll never break out of this – this celibacy.

Shaking her head to dismiss the thoughts, she tried to bury herself in a project, but he repeatedly filled her mind. Finally, fully distracted, she closed the file, walked into the ensuite, undressed and stepped into the shower. Knowing cold water wouldn't kill her passion, she turned up the heat and used her fingers to relieve the tension.

After a long session of yoga poses to relax further, she pulled skinny jeans up her slender thighs and checked the fit in the mirror. Then, while sorting through her bras, she thought about Florence's advice to be less subtle, and she closed the drawer. The girls are fine on their own. Use them to draw him out. 

Turning again in front of the mirror, Valerie nodded approval. Surely he's not gay. No, the mention of overnight. His boldest step yet. But not even a touch so far. Sighing, she pulled on a beige, form-fitting rib-knit top and jiggled her shoulders to watch the movement. Why do I feel like a slut? 

She laughed at herself as she shrugged into a loose navy cardigan and experimented with buttoning. Not done this since university. Looks too obvious. Blatant, bordering on sleazy. With some practice, she regained her old subtle style, and satisfied, she went back to her desk and pressed the intercom button. "Lester, could you please pick me up at the Lime Street entrance in ten minutes?"

"I'll be there in eight, Miss Redburn."

Thirty-five minutes later, in a down-and-out section of Lewisham, Valerie thanked her chauffeur, buttoned her peacoat and walked the remaining block to the soup kitchen to assist with the setup. When the door was unlocked and the first few came in, she ladled stew into bowls, set them on plates and added slices of bread and pats of butter. 

As she slid another across the counter, Lorne sidled beside her to assist. "Sorry to be late. Last minute complications." 

"You didn't miss much." She nodded toward the tables. "Only a dozen so far. The lineup has just formed."

They chatted as they worked, and when the entry door closed an hour later, they sat at a table eating stew and bread as their easy conversation flowed. Once the room had cleared, they helped the others clean tables, load dishwashers and sweep floors before heading out into the evening. 

After strolling and talking for several minutes, Valerie asked, "Where are we going?"

Lorne looked around as if trying to get his bearings. "I thought you were leading."

"Not me. I just wanted to continue sharing with you. You're so easy to be with."

"As are you."

She took his hand. "Come, let me buy you a drink."

He gently squeezed her fingers. "Good idea. But I'll buy."

"Whatever. We need to sit and talk. Decide where we're going beyond just geographically. We've too much affinity to let go to waste." She looked along the street. "Any idea where we are?"

"None. Not my usual part of the city." He hailed a cab, and as it pulled to the kerb, he asked, "Where would you like to go?"

"You choose. You're buying. I'll pay for the cab."

He glanced at his watch. "The popular places will be crowded and noisy. We could go to my club. It's quiet weeknights."

"Fine with me." He belongs to a club? Hmmm, maybe a biker – no, too gentle. Maybe football or billiards. 

Lorne opened the cab door and gave her a hand in, telling the driver, "Oxford and Cambridge Club, please."

"In Pall Mall, Sir?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Valerie nodded to herself as she thought. Far from destitute. Probably like me; giving back to ...

Her thoughts were interrupted by Lorne's voice, and she focused. "... use the club only for business. I've never used it socially."

"There's a first time for everything." 

That triggered a long, rambling conversation, then Lorne asked,  "You're not from Lewisham?"

"No, my chauffeur drives me there Tuesdays, and I take a cab home."

Lorne tilted his head. "You've a chauffeur?"

"Your ante was your private club. I've seen it with my chauffeur."

"I love your quick rebuttals." He reached across and picked up her hand.

Tingling at his touch, she snaked her fingers through his and hummed a sigh.

They shared a long silence before Lorne asked, "So, from where are you chauffeured?"

Valerie giggled. "Trying to get my addresses, are you?" She shrugged. "Between home, work, meetings, soup kitchens and dog pounds."

"Dog pounds?"

"Monday evenings I make a circuit of the animal shelters to photograph new arrivals, then load images onto internet sites hoping to find homes for them."

He bobbed his head in a slow nod. "Noble."

She squeezed his fingers and caught his eyes. "And you? What else do you do?"

"Besides chatting up beautiful women?" He lifted her hand to his lips and lingered before he spoke. "Mondays, I read to palliative care patients in the Royal Free Hospital."

"Noble. To borrow an expression." She gazed at his face flickering in the lights of the passing city as they rode northward. Oh, God! I could drown in that. Her hand was still near his mouth, and she moved it to graze across his lips to the short whiskers on his cheek. "I love two-week beards." Her voice sounded huskier than she had intended. 

"It's convenient this way. Trimming it every three or four days liberates nearly an hour per week."

"And what do you do with your liberated hour? Besides chatting up beautiful women."

"Work."

"Aha! Now we're getting somewhere." She ran her fingers down his beard, across his square jaw and up the other cheek. "And what sort of work?"

"I buy ..." 

He paused as the cabbie said, "That's twenty-two forty, Sir. Yer missy'll think better of ya if ye make it twenty-five." 

Valerie chuckled as Lorne assisted her from the cab. "He talked himself out of five pounds. Thirty is my usual." He escorted her past the entrance of the Oxford and Cambridge Club, and as they reached the HSBC building, she looked back and tensed. "Isn't that your club back there?"

"One of them. But on rethinking, the staff there are too stiff and snooty for how I feel. I thought my wine club would be more appropriate this evening. It's next door." Twenty yards farther along, just short of the turreted façade of St James Palace, he led her into 67 Pall Mall.

Inside, the concierge greeted him as they approached the desk, "Good evening, Mr Benton. Dinner?"

"Thank you, James. No, the Clubroom to relax."

After leaving their coats with the valet, Valerie took Lorne's offered arm, and he guided her into the quiet room, where they settled at a table in the far corner. "I'm sorry about the surprise. But the stiffness of Oxford and Cambridge is often overpowering."

"I know what you mean. We still have remnants of that at my club."

"Your club?" He shook his head.

"My chauffeur was only to see your initial bet. Putting forward my club is seeing your raise of a second club. It's now your move." 

"You're a skilled player." He ran his fingers through his short blond curls. "What do you do professionally?"

"You were telling me what you do as we arrived." She grinned. "Besides, it's your turn to either see me, to raise my bet, or to fold." I'd love you to see me. All of me. She rearranged her cardigan as she flipped her thick red tresses around to her back, blushing at her thoughts.

"I'd love to see much more of you." Lorne's eyes wandered.

"It depends on what cards you play."

"We could replay this afternoon's text exchange." He pulled three phones from his pocket, selected one, turned it on and waited, watching as she took out her phone. When his had cycled on, he clicked the conversation and asked, "Valentine's dinner?"

She tilted her head and smiled. "Love to."

He looked at his phone screen. "Overnight?"

"Hmmm."

"Hmmm yes, or hmmm no?"

"Hmmm, separate rooms as a backup." Valerie toothed her lower lip.

"Your Monday free?"

"Until the dog pounds."

"We'll be back before noon."

"Let's do it."

"I'd love to do it with you."

"In its proper time." She winked at him.

He was about to speak when the waiter approached. "What may we bring you, Sir?"

Lorne's eyes were still caressing Valerie. "Care for bubbles?"

"How delightfully appropriate. I'd love some."

"The '06 Grande Dame, then."

"Very good, Sir." 

Valerie watched the waiter nod, turn and walk toward the bar. "Yours are not as snooty as ours."

"That's why I decided on here rather than O&C. The old farts there want stiff pomposity." 

Several minutes of light banter later, after the sommelier topped up their flutes again, Valerie asked, "So where is dinner?"

"At one of my all-time favourites. Crissier's a bit of a commute, but well worth it."

Both the Champagne and the conversation flowed in a delightful manner as they continued gently digging into each other's backgrounds and arranging the weekend. Near midnight, after Lorne had assisted Valerie into a cab, he leaned in and brushed his lips across hers, lingering a moment. "Until eleven on Saturday, then. Southwest corner of Berkeley Square."