For starters, she opened a second checking account using the two hundred dollars that she had already received from Michael. It relieved her to put the money away into the separate account. She felt distaste for co-mingling the funds that she received from Michael with her own hard-earned salary. It was totally illogical, which she readily admitted to herself. It just made her feel better to deal with it that way. It was the routing and account information for the new account that she emailed to Michael for the direct deposit he had proposed.
Cathy reread every e-mail correspondence that she composed before she sent it. She was very cautious about relating anything that could be used to trace back to her real life. She was thankful that she had had the sense not to give her real name to him. She had not and would not tell him where she worked, what profession she was in, or where she lived. It was to his credit that he never pressed her for those details. He seemed totally incurious, other than to establish that she did work and how their separate schedules could be made to mesh.
Michael emailed that he had tickets to the premier of the ballet on Wednesday night. She agreed to accompany him, believing that she could merely join him there. Then he informed her that it was a black-tie affair and that he would take her shopping on the Saturday before in order to choose a suitable gown for her to wear. That communiqué caused her a few gut-churning moments. However, she knew that she had nothing in her closet that could even pretend to be evening wear. Worse, it was obvious that he had guessed it. Reluctantly, she acquiesced to the shopping expedition.
Cathy dressed carefully for her second meeting with Michael. She wanted to look attractive enough for her role but not as though she was trying to draw attention to herself. After trying on several pieces, she finally paired a pale-blue boat-neck knit top with well-fitting jeans.
Naturally, she couldn’t help thinking about the possibility of a rendezvous at his house. The vivid memories of what had already transpired there made her excruciatingly tense about the upcoming outing and what he might expect of her. It came as a considerable relief to her when he suggested that they meet at the mall’s food court.
Despite the crowd in the food court, Cathy almost immediately caught sight of him. Michael was seated at one of the white plastic tables, lounging at his ease in the chair with his long legs stretched out in front of him. She weaved through the occupied tables toward him. When he saw her, he stood up to greet her. Just as he might have done with any female acquaintance, Michael lightly touched her arm and bent his head to kiss her lightly on the cheek.
Cathy felt the tension in her shoulders loosen slightly. She mentally scolded herself. They were in a public place, for heaven’s sake. What had she expected him to do, grab her and push his tongue down her throat?
“How are you, Winter?”
Cathy was momentarily disconcerted by the name. She did a mental shuffle. She had to remember the role that she was playing. She had to start thinking of herself as Winter. When she was with Michael, Cathy Somerset and her searing life problems did not exist. She covered her confusion by making a procedure of setting her purse down and sinking into the chair opposite him. She offered a quick smile. “I’m fine.”
Michael pulled a cell phone out of his shirt pocket and held it out. “I’ve programmed it. The bill will come to me. My cell, my direct office line, and my home numbers are in the contact list.”
Cathy reached out to take the phone. Her fingers brushed his, and she felt a tiny spark tingle through her fingers at the incidental contact. Very formally, she said, “Thank you, Michael.”
His striking light-colored eyes gleamed with sudden humor. He smiled and politely responded. “You’re welcome.”