“These are my friends Kit Brennan and Fiona Hughes. We teach together at Memorial.”

“You’re teaching now? No more pharmaceutical sales?”

“No. Got my credential a number of years ago.” She looked at Kit and Fiona, and explained: “Jon and I used to work together at Pfizer. First job right out of college.” She glanced back at Jon. “You still with them?”

“Yes. Doing well there. It’s been a good fit.” He gestured to his table. “Would you like to join us? I can grab some chairs.”

Polly grimaced. “I’m sorry, but it’s late, and Fiona’s husband is expecting her—”

“Do you have a second, Polly?” Jon asked, interrupting her. “I’d really like to talk to you, to apologize—”

“It’s not necessary, Jon.” Polly was blushing. “That was years ago.”

“Maybe. But I’d feel better if I could apologize. Can we just step outside?”

Polly nodded and went outside with him, and Fiona slipped out, too, needing to get home, leaving Kit to hover uneasily by the table, aware that Jon’s friend was sipping his beer and watching her.

Unable to avoid the inevitable, she turned and smiled tightly. “Hi.”

He smiled back. “I’m Michael Dempsey,” he said, stretching out a hand.

“I’m Kit,” she said, shaking his hand.

“Have a seat,” he offered.

She took Jon’s chair, not knowing what else to do.

“You didn’t touch the drinks,” Michael added.

Kit glanced at the table she and her friends had just left. Their three drinks were still sitting there. All three glasses were full. “We were just getting ready to leave when they arrived,” she said, feeling extremely awkward. Michael Dempsey had to be somewhere in his mid to late thirties. And he wasn’t bad-looking. In fact, he was rather good-looking, in an athletic sort of way, with his tanned skin and thick, wavy, dark blond hair. His eyes were a light blue and almost the exact color as his cotton dress shirt. “Do you work with Jon?”

“No. Just friends.” He smiled at her, and little creases fanned from his eyes. His teeth were very straight and white.

It struck her that he knew he was attractive and that he’d worked his charm—and that particular smile—on countless women before her. “Do you know Polly?” she replied.

His smile grew, as if he recognized the ploy. “No. But Jon was just telling me about her. He speaks very highly of her.”

“She’s amazing. She’s one of my best friends.”

“So you are all teachers.”

“Yes.