She banished that thought from her mind as Cole said, "Yes, it was, wasn't it? Are you ready to go?"
He stood up and came around the table to hold her chair as she got to her feet. She had taken off the large brown hat during dinner, not really caring that doing so had drawn some curious looks from the other diners in the Richelieu. What she really wanted to do was unpin her hair, shake down that elaborate arrangement of curls, and slip her shoes off. But that would have to wait, she supposed with a sigh.
"Are you all right?" Cole asked solicitously.
"I'm fine," she assured him quickly. "Just a bit tired."
"Of course. You've had a long day." At least he supposed that was true. He didn't know for certain how or where her day had really started.
Annabel read that thought on his face. She wished she could tell him that she was from the future. If he understood, it would certainly simplify things.
Having him believe her, that was the trick. No one in his right mind would.
She put the hat on carefully while he retrieved his derby from a hat rack and settled it on his head at a rakish angle. He wasn't really the rakish type, she decided, but he was capable of it at times, and this was one of those moments. With a grin, he dropped some bills on the table and then offered her his arm.
"Shall we go?"
"We shall," she said, linking her arm with his.
They strolled out of the restaurant and toward the cable car line on Market Street. The sun had set while they were dining, and when it left it had taken the warmth of the day with it. A familiar chilly dampness was descending over the city. Some things never changed, Annabel thought. The fog rolling in felt just the same in 1906 as it did in her own era.
Cole helped her up into one of the cable cars, then said as he sat down beside her, "We're going to my house, and I won't have any argument about it. I'll be going down to the fire station anyway, so there won't be anything the least bit improper about it."
"All right," Annabel said, and she could tell that he was a bit surprised by her ready agreement. The arrangement was really the only thing that made sense. She added, "As long as you don't mind having a strange woman staying at your place overnight."
"Mind?" he asked, genuinely surprised now. "Why should I mind?"
"Well, I might be a thief. You might come home to find everything in the house gone."
Cole laughed quietly. "You don't really look like the brigand type, Miss Lowell."
"Annabel," she said.
He hesitated, then nodded. "Annabel. At any rate, I trust you."
"Good. I trust you, too."
And instinctively, she did. So far, he had done nothing to suggest there was any reason not to.
They changed cable cars at Market and Powell and rode north past Union Square and Chinatown. Annabel noticed Cole looking rather intently at Chinatown, with its splashes of gaudy light in the midst of the darkness. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
He gave a little shake of his head. "Not at all. What could be wrong on such a lovely evening?"
"Lovely evening?" she repeated. "The fog is rolling in."
"What do you expect in San Francisco?"
"True," she agreed. She glanced down at his hand and wondered how he would react if she slipped her fingers around his. She decided to stop thinking about it and act instead.
She laid her hand on his, lightly.
Cole didn't jerk away, but he did turn his head and look at her for a second. Then he turned his hand over and twined his fingers with hers, closing them in a grip that was warm and strong, yet at the same time gentle. Annabel smiled tentatively.
When the cable car reached the stop at Green and Powell, Cole said, "This is where we get off." He got to his feet without letting go of her hand.
Annabel stood, too, and followed him off the car. He let go of her hand as she was stepping down to the street, but only so that he could rest both hands lightly on her waist to steady her. When her feet were on the ground, she turned to face him. As she did so, she realized that his hands were still touching her. They had slid down a little, so that they rested just below her waist, where the swell of her hips began. They stood like that for a moment, before she reached up and rested her hand on the front of his vest. "Cole . . .," she breathed.
His hands jerked away from her body as if she were on fire. He stepped back and looked flustered in the glow of a nearby streetlight. "I. . . I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to be so bold. Miss Lowell."
"You agreed to call me Annabel," she reminded him.
"Yes, so I did." He offered her his arm. "We'd best be going. The steps get a bit tricky after the fog comes in."
"All right," she murmured. He thought she had wanted him to stop touching her, she realized. Just the opposite was true. She wouldn't have minded at all if he had pulled her even closer to him and kissed her.