“Let’s talk about you,” Jaime suggested.
“Okay.” Anya wiped her mouth and sipped her cocktail. “What would you like to know?”
“I’m curious about your days in the FBI.”
Anya shook her head. “I’ll talk about most things, but not that.”
“Why? You’re obviously good at what you do. Why…?”
“No matter how good you are, Jaime, there’s always someone out there that’s better.”
“So you were fired to bring someone else in?” Jaime couldn’t imagine that scenario.
“That’s not what I said,” Anya said cryptically. “I wasn’t fired, I resigned. Now, can we move on?”
Jaime leaned forward, hoping she wasn’t pushing too hard. But there was something here that would most likely give her a clearer picture of who Dr. Anastasia Grant really is.
“Wait, please. I’ve seen what you can do…”
“A snippet of a guess,” Anya interrupted. “Profiling is nothing but a guess, Jaime—a well-educated assumption based on expert analysis of an individual’s behavior. We can give you our opinions on what that particular individual will do, but humans are as unpredictable as they are habitual. And when we get it wrong, people can get hurt. Or die.”
“Anya, what happened?”
Anya gulped down the rest of her Negroni, instantly regretting it. “Please, Jaime, I don’t want to talk about this. Not tonight.”
Jaime reluctantly dropped the subject. The detective in her—hell, the woman in her—was almost desperate to know what drove Anya away from the FBI into a life of near seclusion.Whatever it was, it spooked Anya enough to close herself up in her own personal Fort Knox. As far as Jaime knew, the only place Anya went was the club. On the surface, Anya readily came out with Jaime. Was that because Jaime was a cop?
“How did Lady A come about?”
Anya snorted with laughter. “From one extreme to the other? What’s your fascination with my occupations?”
Jaime lifted a shoulder. “What people do says a lot about them.”
“Does it? Sometimes, a job is a job. A means to survive.”
“Fair enough. But I doubt that’s what Lady A is to you, Anya.”
Anya smiled, pausing when she saw Nonna coming to the table with more food.
“Veal Scaloppine. Eat, eat!”
“And…she’s gone,” Anya announced with a shake of the head. “This looks heavenly.”
“Smells even better. Can’t wait to taste it. When I come here by myself, Nonna gives me spaghetti. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but this…” Jaime cut into the veal, letting the aroma of the lemon caper sauce fill her nose. She closed her mouth around a healthy bite. “Yep. Mmhmm. That’s the stuff right there.”
Anya wanted to laugh at Jaime’s comical rating of the food, but when she dug into her own veal, she damn near moaned inappropriately. “Agreed,” she said around a mouthful.
The rest of the dinner consisted of sounds of enjoyment, scraping of plates, and laughter. Both women decided to avoid heavy topics for the rest of the night, opting instead to talk about their preferences in movies and music. Typical first date stuff that neither were experts on, but it felt…right. After the meal, Nonna brought out a to-die-for tiramisu and the largest cup of cappuccino Anya had ever seen. She was pretty sure she’d beawake for days after drinking it, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make for the wonderful finale of an exquisite meal.
“Thank you for a wonderful night,”Anya said, unlocking her front door. The evening was… better than she expected. Of course, she knew she already liked Jaime, but tonight showed her a different side of the detective. One that didn’t involve sex or Lady A. It had been years since Anya went on a date, perhaps longer since she’d had an intelligent, meaningful—and at times humorous—conversation with anyone other than Derek. And yes, even Anya could admit how pathetic that was. As a longtime profiler and then making the change to Lady A, there wasn’t much opportunity for people to get to know the real Anya. She fully admitted that was by design in most cases, but with Jaime, she could see herself opening up…a little.
“I would ask you in,” Anya continued as she pushed the door open with her hip. She didn’t want the night to end, but neither of them wanted to make this night about sex.
“And I would love to say yes, but I think it’s best I say goodnight here,” Jaime responded with a polite smile. “Tonight was perfect, Anya, thank you.” Jaime leaned in and kissed Anya softly on the cheek. “Goodnight,” she whispered in Anya’s ear, then backed away.
“Goodnight, Jaime.”
Anya watched as Jaime drove away into the night. Dating and conversation aside, it had been a long time since Anya felt…alone.
