“Can you cook?” she asked him, though she didn’t know why the thought had occurred.

“I’m a pretty good cook. I like to eat, so I taught myself to cook. Cooking is a special kind of chemistry,” he said, warming up to the subject. “It’s a matter of putting together the right flavors and avoiding combinations that will blow up in your face. Right?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but that’s close enough. Did you like chemistry in school?”

“I tolerated it. I loved physics.”

They talked of their likes and dislikes in music, art, dance, literature and hobbies, and they shared their dreams. By the time they reached Elizabeth City, nearly an hour had elapsed, but neither noticed. He drove into a gas station and asked the attendant if he knew where a man could take a lady dancing.

“This lady is a judge,” he told the man, “so it has to be a clean and classy place.” He held a ten-dollar bill in his hand where the attendant could see it.

The guy peeped in the car. “Man, she don’t look like no judge to me. Uh, sorry, sir. No problem, sir. Check out the Skylight Roof on top of the Wright Hotel. You won’t find any riffraff there. Go straight till you get to a circle, turn left, drive four blocks. You’ll be there.”

She laid her left hand on his forearm. “Thanks for thinking of the quality of the place, Reid. It’s been so long since I went anywhere special that I didn’t think of it.”

“When you’re with me, Kendra, I’ll do everything I can to take care of you, and I know you’d do the same for me.”

When they reached the hotel, Reid said to the doorman, “Do you have a band tonight?”

“Yes, sir. Every night, sir.”

He looked the man in the eye. “My date is a judge. Is it all right for me to take her in there?”

“Yes, sir. We cater to only the most discriminating guests.”

She loved the room. Pink chandeliers cast a soft glow over the white tables, each of which held three white calla lilies in a slender vase. “I don’t want anything to drink,” he said, “but I’ll order something for you if you’d like.”

“Thanks. I’d like a ginger ale on crushed ice.”

“I think I’ll have the same,” he said and beckoned for the waiter.

“What kind of music do you prefer to dance to?” he asked her.

“I love jazz saxophone, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll enjoy it no matter what they play.”

Why was he looking at her that way? She wished she knew him well enough to read him. The band leader announced a fox-trot, and Reid stood. Just before his arms went around her, he kissed her with his eyes, warmed her with his repressed desire and a riot of sensation sent tremors throughout her body.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m already drowning in your aura, so don’t pour it on too heavily.”

He was drowning? “If we get into trouble, we’ll save each other.”

He missed a step. “Honesty and straightforwardness are among the things I like about you, but I’d appreciate it if you would choose your times to be candid.”

The piece ended, and the orchestra leader announced “Solitude,” a Duke Ellington song from the 1930s. She moved into him then. She couldn’t help it, for the alto saxophone moaned and cried, haunting, harnessing the blues for posterity. She gripped his shoulders and swung to his rhythm as if she had danced with him from the moment of her birth. Soon, she didn’t hear the orchestra, only the music of his body moving with hers. When at last the music stopped, she looked up at him.

“If I didn’t know better,” he said, “I’d swear we’ve danced together for years. It’s uncanny. I’ve known you a little over a month, and I feel as if I’ve known you for years and years.”

“Seems that way to me, too. I think we ought to start back. It’ll be after midnight when we get home.”

They didn’t talk on the way home. Normally, she loved silence, because it allowed her to think. But not this mocking quiet, so intense that it spoke with the power of thunder. At last, they reached her house, and he parked and handed her the keys.

“I want to spend the night with you, Kendra, but I know this isn’t the time. My body feels as if it’s in a prison, locked behind bars and rearing to get out, but in a way, it’s a good feeling. I’m alive, and I couldn’t have said that before I met you. Come on, I’ll see you into your house.”

“Wait here,” he said when they entered her foyer, issuing orders as usual. “I’ll take a look around.” As if she didn’t walk into that house alone almost every time she entered it. He came back to her. “All clear. I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven, and we’ll walk down to the Sound, that is if you still want to.”