Lora checked the thin gold watch that wrapped delicately around her wrist. Only three minutes early. She might as well be late. Hopefully her date wouldn’t mind.
Her date. A novel idea, if nothing else — it had been at least three years since she’d gone out with someone as anything other than friends. Touring as part of a chamber ensemble was great for seeing the sights and eating her way around the globe, but it was hell on everyone’s love lives. At least she wasn’t continually abandoning a partner at home the way some of her colleagues did.
She took a deep breath and smoothed her hands across the front of her rose-colored blouse. It was silk, an uncommon luxury in both texture and color for someone who spent most of her life in blacks and whites, linens and cottons and wrinkle-resistant wool blends. The small restaurant in front of her was bustling, heart-shaped lights hanging in the windows and happy couples drinking wine and eating, forks and mouths moving in a silent cacophony through the window glass.
A blind date on Valentine’s Day. What had she been thinking when she agreed to let Navid set her up like this?
That you either need a date or a new toy, she thought wryly, her lips twisting with inner amusement.
A woman pushed past to grab the door handle to the restaurant entrance. She was shorter than Lora, a rush of red hair and perfume and impressive curves poured into a fuchsia dress that fit like a second skin. She was stunning, her warm brown eyes flashing as she elbowed past, tossing a quick wink over her shoulder.
“Sorry,” she laughed, wrapping a strong, tanned hand around the brass door pull. “Running late for a blind date! You understand.”
I do, Lora thought, and followed her in.