He’d been here before. He was sure of it; black tablecloths, silver candlesticks, and a flock of penguin waiters. When had he been here?
“We dreamed this silly.” He frowned. She was gone.
He turned, straightened his shirt, and hitched his jacket. He hated to admit it, but the breathy woman in his head; she was right. They had dreamed it. He tingled at the memory.
A rail of a man with a lantern jaw approached him, a smile stretched across his vast expanse of face.
“Tom! How are you?” He rolled his wineglass between thumb and forefinger.
“Good, good.” There was a hint of perfume on the air. Tom glanced left.
The other man continued despite Tom’s distraction. “I was glad you didn’t hesitate to call me on that pharmaceutical question. Was a hundred enough?”
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