“Really?”
He turned me to face him, pressing our clasped hands to his chest. “You swept me off my feet months ago.”
Time stopped as we seemed suspended in a motionless cloud of snowflakes. Even in the frigid outdoors, warmth swept over my body, setting it alight. I didn’t even see it coming—the moment I’d anticipated for weeks and had obsessed over most of the day at work. One second, I was drowning in Caleb’s blue-green eyes, and the next, my lips were on his.
Finally, breathtakingly, it was our first kiss.
In the freezing cold of Vancouver’s winter, I was aflame. Love and yearning for the man in my arms swept through my core, setting alight every sense. Stars burst behind my lidded eyes. The scent of Caleb’s cologne teased me—leather and tea and something earthy that evoked memories of the Rockies in fall. Never allowing our lips to part, I peeled off one glove to touch his face, to feel the prickle of stubble beneath my fingertips. His skin was cold, but the electric current between us burned. My knees buckled as my body melted into his, but Caleb held me strongly, with just one arm around my waist. The kissfinally waned, but the moment remained suspended, noses touching, lips still brushing, the mist of our combined breath swirling between us.
After an eternity of staring into each other’s eyes, Caleb asked, “Are you ready to go back inside for the next course?”
“Not yet,” I said, brushing my smooth cheek against the roughness of his. “I’m not finished with this one.”
And with snow drifting down around us, I closed my eyes, touched my lips to his, and cast myself adrift into the endless ocean of love I felt for the man in my arms.
I watched as the maître d’cleared our dessert just as the second-to-last couple rose from their table and took their leave.
“Mademoiselle,monsieur,” he said smoothly, “the final course is a Valentine’s cocktail—a Love Potion Martini. I’ll bring it out in just a minute. Meanwhile—” He produced two small leather-bound billfolds, which I initially mistook for the check. “Your fellow diners have written greetings to help commemorate the evening.”
For a second, I simply stared at them, my brain struggling to catch up. “Um, thank you,” I said finally, accepting mine. I waited until he had disappeared with the dessert dishes before leaning closer to Caleb. “Did you know about this?”
He shook his head.
I opened the billfold.
An assortment of Valentine’s postcards inside—romantic illustrations on one side, handwritten notes on the other.
“‘To the lovebirds on table one,’” I read from the first card I picked up. “‘Herb told me off for spying, but I’m not ashamed to say I saw you kiss outside.’” Heat rushed to my face as I realized Caleb was watching me, not the card. I swallowed and continued. “‘It reminded me of my wedding day all those years ago. Thank you for a lovely memory. Alice Tremblay.’”
“That’s sweet,” Caleb said softly. “That was the fiftieth-anniversary couple, wasn’t it?”
I nodded and slid the card to the bottom of the stack, suddenly aware of how full my heart felt. The pianist began packing up in the corner as I turned over the second card—a playful note from the engaged couple, joking that if we ever wanted that wristband off, we’d have to let go of each other first.
The maître d’ returned just long enough to set our cocktails on the table before retreating again.
Gentle music drifted from hidden speakers, softer now, more private.
“What’s on the next one?” Caleb asked.
I picked up a card that was folded the wrong way, the picture tucked inside and the message written on the outside. “‘To Caleb,’” I read, then glanced up at him with a smile. “Dating advice, man to man—three things you must never forget.” I checked the name at the bottom. “It’s from Paul, the guy on the terrace. Are you sure you want me to read it? I think it ended up in the wrong pile.”
“Keep going,” he said, grinning. “How bad could it be?”
I cleared my throat. “‘Number one: never forget to tell her how beautiful she looks. She didn’t just slip on a fresh shirt and slap on cologne like you did, my friend, so let her know it was worth the effort.’”
“I did that earlier,” Caleb said happily. “I’m one-for-one.”
“‘Number two,’” I continued, trying not to smile too hard, “‘don’t stress about the goodnight kiss. If she wants it, she’ll find a way to let you know. Trust her—and when you get the sign, let her know you wanted it too.’”
Caleb laughed and touched his lips. “I think we might have skipped ahead on that one. What’s number three?”
“‘The last thing you must never forget for a memorable first date…’” I paused. “It doesn’t say.”
“What is it?”
I unfolded the card and saw the single word printed inside—Condoms!—I yelped, slapping the card facedown on the table and clamping my hand over it.
Caleb burst out laughing and tried to pry it out from under my palm. “Can I see?”
