It’s exactly the same.”In the kitchen, I poured her a mug. “Milk? Sugar?”“Black, please.” She sat at the kitchen island counter.Placing th... mug in front of her, I asked, “Not that I’m complaining, but what brings you here?”She smiled. “I told you. You didn’t call.”“Was I supposed to?”She laughed. “Why do you think a girl gives a guy her number? For prosperity?”I smiled. “No. Out of pity. To make us saps feel good for a while.”Kimber laughed again, her face alive, eyes glowing. “For your. The food was fusion Mediterranean with traces of Middle East and North African spices meeting French and Italian dishes. It was loud and bustling and busy with most of the noise coming from the bar patrons.We were seated against the wall at a red cloth-covered table for two, ice water poured by an envious and ogling waiter and menus placed in front of us. I glared at the back of the waiter as he departed. Cassie appeared not to have noticed his inappropriate looks. I studied the rather. More

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