As she stood, she continued to fight the old pull. It was as if she were slipping into Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, perhaps not slipping, pulled – by an irresistible force. She needed to remain diligent to be the independent woman she longed to be.

Walking across the empty lounge, Tony placed his hand in the small of her exposed back. She didn’t fight the contact. Actually, she fought the sudden desire to melt toward it. Memories came rushing so fast, she barely had time to blink -- the feel of his caress -- his ability to elicit emotions and desires -- the warmth and security of his embrace. Although her resolve diligently fought, her heartbeat quickened and fantasies interlaced her recollections. Not only did she remember his large strong hands; she also remembered his tender mouth, firm steady chest, and tight abdomen. The slight touch evoked memories of ecstasies they’d shared. Highs, which before him didn’t exist, and elations she feared were forever extinct.

When his tall body inclined, allowing his lips to hover near her ear, her body tingled. Then, without warning he whispered, and her fantasy evaporated. Reality struck with a slap that only real life can elicit. “I’m glad visibility was not your goal for this evening. I would hate to disappoint you.”

Before Claire could respond, they stepped from the lounge into the dining area. She gasped. Her neck stiffened as she took in the empty restaurant. No longer was her subconscious filled with memories of love and pleasure, but control and manipulation. The harshness deflated her lungs. Claire fought to breathe, battling the sensation of suffocation she’d suffered during the years of his domination.

With new found determination, she turned toward the sly smirk of her ex-husband and asked, “What have you done?”

“I wanted to spend time with you, without the diversion of others.”

“Where are the other people?”

“I believe they accepted an unbelievable offer. In essence, I rented the entire restaurant. After all, you said it was delicious, and I wanted to enjoy the food and company.”

Claire stared incredulously, “You bought-out the entire place?”

“Yes, Claire. Shall we sit? I believe you requested this central table.”

Her blood boiled, looking around she wondered about Phil, where was he? She’d become accustom to seeing him periodically throughout her day. Feeling incredibly vulnerable she sat, allowing Tony to push her chair under the table.

Fighting her instinct to run, Claire straightened her neck and met her ex-husbands smug expression and sparkling darkening eyes head-on. The waiter delivered their wine, including glasses to their new location. After he left, Tony lifted his glass and proposed a toast, “To you, the only person in this world, who can keep me on my toes.”

Claire held her glass. Tony moved the goblet to his lips. Slowly, she raised the rim to her mouth. Just before she took a drink, he laughed. Placing the glass back onto the linen tablecloth, Claire said, “I hope you’re amused. I believe I’m getting a headache. We’ll need to postpone this dinner for another time.” She placed her hands on the table to push back her chair.

Tony reached across the table and covered her hand. The touch ignited her skin. She wanted to hate the man with her entire being; yet, his touch, the sound of his voice, smell of his cologne, and sight of his incredibly handsome face turned her insides to jelly. The two contrasting memories of love and domination, played simultaneously within her head. Unwillingly, she looked into his soft chocolate eyes and sighed.

In a much gentler tone he said, “Claire, I would like you to stay. Your plans are to be commended. You probably know, but even without the clothes I sent, you are stunning. Now, if we are done with this ridiculous posturing, I’d like to talk with you for a while.”

“This was not meant as posturing! And I assure you, my head does hurt.”

“I have missed you terribly.”

She stared. What did he just say? It didn’t make sense. She was gone from him, from his life, due totally to him.

He continued, “I have missed your voice, your strength, your smile, and mostly your eyes. My god, Claire, you have the most amazing eyes!”

“Stop it.”

Abashed, he asked, “Excuse me?”

“I said, stop it!” Her voice was harsh yet hushed. “The last time we spoke, in person, I begged to go with you back to your home, our home in Iowa City. As I recall, you offered me a psychiatric institution. So why would I be interested in listening to your drivel today?”

“Well, first, because you accepted my invitation.”

“I accepted your invitation for one reason, to convince you to leave me alone. We are done.”

“My dear, it is not that simple.” His expression revived a suppressed fear.

She fought to steady herself as the room wobbled off center. It was the finality with which he spoke, as if his comment were beyond reproach. “It is.” Her voice less convincing than she’d hoped. She inhaled to emphasize her next word, “Anton.”

His back straightened, and his eyes intensified, “My name is Anthony. You may still address me as Tony.”

“That’s very gentlemanly of you. Do you not think as your wife, I deserved to know your true name was Anton Rawls?” Claire watched an internal battle launch and rage within her ex-husband. She knew him and could read his non-verbal clues. Others may not recognize the scene before her, but she did.

Externally Tony remained stoic as he fought for control. Finally he spoke, his voice deceivingly calm, “Where could you possibly come up with such a story?”