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Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and he had to look away. Could he be thrown out of the place if he was found to be sitting at their elegant, linen covered table with a raging erection?

“This place is so romantic.” Her gaze slid over to his. “Why did Colin book it for us? It feels like he wants us to get together.”

He could see that. But he knew himself, knew that Colin knew him, though not the very worst of him. “I think,” he said slowly, “that if your brother had wanted to push us together, he would have had ample opportunity to do it while he was alive.”

His imagination, or did her eyes dim a little? “Yes, you’re probably right.” She pushed a smile onto her face because this was Anna, a woman who always made the best of things. “Still, we’re here now.” Her eyes widened. “And if you’re not careful, I’m about to get very tipsy.”

He turned to find a suit clad waiter bearing down on them. He carried a bucket of ice, bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes.

“Sir, madam. I believe this is a celebration.” He opened the bottle with a practiced finesse.

“Celebration?” As the guy poured them both a glass, Anna looked over to Luke. He shrugged. What on earth had his mate done?

“Yes. The booking, which is already paid for in full, clearly stated we were to give you the best table in the house and lavish attention on you.” The waiter smiled. “That can only be a celebration, yes?” He looked between them. “An anniversary?”

Anna bit into her lip, eyes dancing. Luke decided it was easier to go with the assumption than explain they were barely friends and only here at her dead brother’s request. “Yes.” The waiter continued to look at him. “First anniversary.” He glanced at Anna, who unhelpfully waggled her empty ring finger. “One year since our first date,” he added.

“Congratulations. Would you like me to take a photo of you both to remember the occasion by?”

Photo dutifully taken—he was sure another one of him smiling stiffly and Anna all warm, easy smile—the waiter disappeared.

“So, Per Se for a one-year dating anniversary.” She looked playfully at him. “I wonder what you’d do for a wedding anniversary.”

“I didn’t book this, your fancy ass brother did.” He took a sip of the champagne, felt the bubbles on his tongue. Decided it was okay, but he’d rather have a beer. “I can’t see me ever getting married.”

“Oh.” She looked puzzled, like marriage was something everyone aspired to. “Why not?”

He could name a multitude of reasons; he was too selfish, his heart locked too tight, he didn’t deserve a good woman, and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with a woman who was less than that, who didn’t make his knees tremble, his heart sing. “Can you see a woman putting up with me long term?” Because he didn’t want to hear her answer, he held up his hand. “How about you. Do you see yourself getting married one day?”

She looked down at her glass, turned it round by the fine stem. “I’d like to think so, yes.” Her eyes met his. “I want what my mom and dad have. They’re so similar, you know? Like peas in a pod.”

Where he and Anna were like a pea and a . . . what was the most opposite to a small, round edible object?

“I want that,” she continued, oblivious to the fact she’d just thrown up another massive hurdle to him ever becoming more than her friend. “I want a soulmate. Someone I can laugh with and cry with. A calm to my storm. A rock to withstand my wobbles,” she added with a wry smile. “A guy I’m still in love with after thirty years together.”

Something inside his chest twisted. “It will happen.” And he would be a dim memory. A guy she once had to spend twenty-four days with after her brother had died.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you deserve it.”

Their eyes met and held, hers luminous, reflecting the light of the candle on their table and the twinkling lights of New York outside their window. He felt a pang of sadness at the knowledge he probably wouldn’t be in her life to see his prediction come true.

Thankfully the heavy moment was broken by the waiter delivering their first course. “Oyster and Pearls,” he announced. He settled a set of three plates of differing sizes placed on top of each other in front of each of them. Then removed the dome shaped ceramic lid with a flourish.

Luke stared at the tiny dish that had been revealed. Two round blobs, a teaspoon of black glutenous balls, all in a yellow sauce. “That’s a course?” he hissed when the guy had left. “It looks more like a mouthful.”

Anna giggled. “I think we’re going to need to go to Mickey D’s after this.” She prodded at it. “I guess it’s oysters and caviar?” He picked up the tiny spoon and wolfed it down. “What’s it like?”

“Okay.” He frowned. “Aren’t oysters meant to be an aphrodisiac?”

Another breath of laughter. “Oops.”

The dishes came and went, each tiny and presented on large plates. Each went down in a couple of mouthfuls. Between courses they finished the champagne and moved to wine.

“I shouldn’t.” She covered her glass when he went to pour her another glass—for once the hovering waiter wasn’t around to do it for him. “I already feel giddy from the champagne, it goes right to my head.”

“I’ll make sure you get home okay,” he promised. “I’ll even tuck you into bed.”