The Origin of Species (2010)
“She was done up in the sort of woolly dress that Alex hadn’t seen since the seventies, a vibrant green thing that exuded static and stuck to her curves like cling wrap.
A hint of lipstick smeared her front teeth.
“So.” She’d brought a bottle of wine with her, the middling Italian red they sold downstairs at the depanneur. “We meet again.”
All afternoon Alex had been busy stoking up his goodwill toward her, admonishing himself to be mindful of her, to be a gentleman.
“I’ll get you a glass. I mean, are you allowed to drink?”
“Well, maybe a glass or two.” She put on her coquettish air. “If you promise not to take advantage of me.”
Michael had called to say he wouldn’t be coming, which was bad news—Michael could work a room like a society matron, until there was hardly a corner of it that wasn’t abuzz. He had a hot date, he’d said, someone he’d met on the mountain, which was worrying, probably another of his sudden passions that would come to nothing or worse.
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