Dante paused to look at her, something dark flashing across his features. "You lied to me?"
"No, I said I was at the reception with Ben. You assumed he was my boyfriend."
"And you let me believe it. Why?"
Tess shrugged, unsure. "Maybe I didn't trust you with the truth."
"But you do now?"
"I don't know. I don't trust very easily."
"Neither do I," he said, watching her more closly than ever now. They resumed walking. "Tell me. How did you become involved with this... Ben?"
"We met a couple of years ago, through my practice. He's been a good friend to me."
Dante grunted but said nothing more. Ahead of them less than a block was the Charles River, one of Tess's favorite places to walk. She led the way across the street and onto one of the paved trails that meandered along the riverfront.
"You don't really believe that," Dante said when they neared the dark, rippling water of the Charles. " You say he's a good friend, but you're not being honest. Not with me, and not with yourself either."
Tess frowned. "How could you possibly know what I think? You don't know anything about me."
"Tell me I'm wrong."
She started to say as much, but his unwavering gaze stripped her bare. He did know. God, how was it possible that she could feel so connected to him? How could he read her so clearly? She'd felt this same awareness--this instant, peculiar bond with him--at the museum.
"Last night, at the exhibit," she said, her voice quiet in the cool darkness, "you kissed me." "Yes."
"Then you all but vanished without a word."
"I had to leave. If I hadn't, I might not have stopped at just kissing you."
"In the middle of a crowded ballroom?" He didn't say anything to deny it. And the slight, inviting curve of his lips sent arrows of fire licking through her veins. Tess shook her head. "I'm not even sure why I let you do that to me."
"Do you wish I hadn't?"
"It doesn't matter if I wished it or not."
She picked up her pace, moving ahead of him on the walking path.
"You're running away again, Tess."
"I am not!" She surprised herself by the frightened tone of her voice. And she was running, her feet trying to carry her as far away from him as possible, even though everything else within her was drawn to him like a magnetic field. She forced herself to stop. To remain still as Dante came up next to her and turned her to face him.
"We're all running away from something, Tess."
She couldn't help scoffing a little. "Even you?"
"Yeah. Even me." He stared out at the river, then gave a nod as his gaze came back to her. "You want to know the God's honest truth? I've been running all my life--longer than you could know."
She found it hard to believe. Granted, she knew very little about him, but if she'd been asked to describe him in one word, it likely would have been fearless. Tess couldn't imagine what could make this immensely confident man doubt himself for a second. "From what, Dante?"
"Death." He was quiet for a moment, reflective. "Sometimes I think if I just keep moving, if I don't allow myself to become anchored by hope or anything else that might tempt me to miss a step... " He exhaled a curse into the darkness. "I don't know. I'm not sure it's possible to cheat fate, no matter how fast or how far we run."
Tess thought about her own life, the damning past that had been haunting her for so long. She had tried to outrun it, but it was always there. Always shadowing every decision she made, reminding her of the curse that would never permit her to truly live. Even now--more and more lately--she wondered if it might be time to move on, start over.
"What do you think, Tess? What is it you run from?"
She didn't answer, torn between the need to protect her secrets and her longing to share them with someone who might not judge her, who might understand what had brought her to this place in her life, if not forgive her for it.
"It's okay," Dante said gently. "You don't have to tell me now. Come on, let's find a bench so you can sit and enjoy your sugar and caffeine. Never let it be said that I'd deny a woman any of her favorite vices." Dante watched Tess eat the thick, caramel-laced brownie, feeling her pleasure radiate across the small space that separated them on the river-walk bench. She'd offered him a bite, and although his kind could not consume crude human food in anything more than a mouthful, he accepted a small taste of the sticky chocolate confection if only to share in Tess's unabashed enjoyment. He swallowed the heavy, pretty much revolting bit of pasty sweetness with a tight smile.
"Good, huh?" Tess licked her chocolate-coated fingers, slipping one after the other into her mouth and sucking them clean.
"Delicious," Dante said, watching her with his own brand of hunger.
"You can have some more if you want it."
"No." He drew back, shaking his head. "No, it's all yours. Please. Enjoy it."
She finished it off, then sipped the last of her coffee. As she got up to toss the empty bag and cup into a park trash bin, she was distracted by an elderly man who was walking a pair of small brown dogs along the riverfront. Tess said something to the old man, then dropped down into a crouch and let the dogs climb all over her.
Dante watched her laugh as the pair of them rolled and danced for her attention. That rigid guard he was so unsuccessful in breaching with her was gone now. For a few brief minutes, he saw what Tess was really like, without fear or mistrust.
She was glorious, and Dante felt an insane stab of envy for the two mutts who were benefiting from her uninhibited affection.