After the maître d' left, Valerie laid her hand on Lorne's and gently pulsed as she watched his face morph through emotions, his eyes fixed in a blank stare across the room. Finally, she spoke. "Did you know him well?"

"Only from conversations while dining. He and his wife, Brigitte, would often circulate through the rooms, greeting new clients and pausing to chat with regulars."

"Beyond that?"

"In the foyer, on my way out." He ran his fingers through his blond curls. "Strange, I've not before thought of it this way, but I now see it was him with whom I dined. And other chefs."

"How do you mean?"

"Always alone. My dining companions have become the chefs and the food they prepare for me. Surrogate company rather than real."

"But also satisfying yourself with superb food." Valerie shrugged. "I do that – often."

"But not alone, though."

"Oh, yes, alone." She lifted his hand to her lips. "Other than for business, you're my first dining companion in ..." She paused to kiss his fingers as she thought. "God! I cannot believe how long it's been."

"You're my first since Gwen." He blew out a loud breath. "Seems I had immersed myself in building an empire, burying my grief. Didn't know how to dig my way out of it."

Valerie pursed her lips, bobbing her head as she listened. "Yeah. Same."

"You were also grieving?"

"No." She shook her head. "No, burying myself in business." She squeezed his hand. Should I tell him? No. Too much else happening.

"You seem troubled with this, Valerie."

"There's a lot happening." She paused as a waiter arrived with menus and cartes and to elaborate on the day's features.

When the recitation had finished, Lorne turned to Valerie. "I often choose the menu de dégustation and its accompanying wines. Let the kitchen and the cellar surprise me."

"I do the same. Allows me to relax from having made decisions all day."

Shall we do the five or the seven course?"

"The seven. We've not eaten much today. And with all the exercise."

Lorne looked up at the waiter. "Good, we'll do that."

Once the waiter had left, Valerie picked up Lorne's hand again and played with his fingers. "Do you watch others while you're dining?"

"Some. It's difficult not to between courses. I try to focus on larger groups or singles, though. Seeing happy couples sharing and enjoying triggers too many memories."

"And now?"

Lorne scanned the room, pausing his eyes for a while on other couples before he returned his gaze to Valerie. "It's not happening now."

"What had they been? The memories?"

He shrugged. "Dinners we shared. The fine times. Not just dining, though. I do playbacks whenever I see happy couples, thinking of what had been and imagining what might have been."

"Instead of concentrating on what is. And on what is possible. You had locked a part of your being in the past."

"Yeah. My mother tells me this." He laughed. "Always tells me it's time to let go and find another woman. Give her some grandchildren."

"She's right. And I think you know that."

"Oh, I know it." He lifted her hand to his lips, lingering a while. "In the beginning, I didn't want to. Then when I did, I didn't know how."

"I saw you as a timid man when we first met in the soup kitchen. So unsure in some ways, yet so attractive and endearing in your openness."

"I'm still amazed I found the courage to talk with you that night." He ran his tongue across her fingertips, then laughed. "I love where that has taken me."

Valerie trembled at the sensations and the thoughts they kindled. "I'm pleased you held off until we met." She paused as a sommelier arrived with two flutes and a bottle of Champagne.

As he poured, a waiter arrived with two plates of amuse-bouches, and when both servers had left, Valerie raised her glass. "To us. May this be but the first of many to come."

They drank to the toast, then Lorne stared into the rising bubbles. "Far beyond my wildest imaginings."

"What? The Taittinger?" She took another sip and savoured it. "I've had better."

Lorne laughed. "No, not the Champagne. Us." He pointed back and forth between them. "Sharing with you surpasses any dreams I've ever had."

Valerie smiled. "Did you dream of other women? Or only of Gwen?"

"I began dreaming about you a few weeks ago. Not night dreaming, at least not that I'm aware of; I never remember those. But imaginings, mental images as I shake hands with myself." He blushed.

She smiled, humming quietly at the thought. "But you said you need visual stimulation."

"Oh, I do." He offered a sheepish grin. "I look at the online images and imagine myself into them. Imagine what I'm doing with you."

Valerie shifted in her chair. Should have put a liner in my thong. "I'm hot just thinking of you imagining me that way."

"Rather stiff myself." He pointed to her plate. "We should amuse our mouths and senses with other things."

They continued their light banter between bites and sips, each gently probing into the other's past. As their plates were cleared, Lorne asked, "How did you escape being caught? You're a highly successful woman, intelligent, perceptive, enfolding and stunningly beautiful."

Valerie blushed. "I love how your eyes see me." She fidgeted. "Let's focus on here and now. Leave the past where it is for the time being."

Lorne was about to speak when the waiter and sommelier appeared with the next course and its accompanying wine. As he set the plates down, the waiter said, "Cardinal des mers aux trois carottes. Bon appétit."

The sommelier looked up from pouring and said. "Meursault Charmes, Domaine Roulot 2009." He finished, showed them the label and left.

Both Valerie and Lorne sat silently nodding at the artistic presentation; then, she said, "I love the symmetry and the delicate play with colours."

"Visual stimulation." He worked his mouth and licked his lips. "Whets the appetite."

"Food porn at its finest."

He lifted his eyes from his plate and lingered on her breasts.

She smiled as hunger grew on his face. "We should eat before you rip your trousers."