As Frank and I made our way to the art gallery bar, I asked, "So, where's your sidekick this evening?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Garrett Moore."

"I don't make a habit of knowing the whereabouts of Mr. Moore, but I would assume he's at home. Possibly at the office. He does tend to work late often."

"More than you? I understand you're quite the workaholic."

"My job is demanding, requiring a great deal of my time. Even now, while I'm not officially on the clock, I'm fulfilling my duties as Commissioner."

"And here I thought we were on a date, Frank. I'm so disappointed."

Frank handed me a fresh glass of red wine from the bar.

"A date? I don't recall the last time I went on a date. My life doesn't lend much time for a social life."

"Well, we'll just have to see about that."

"Will we, now?"

"Yes, we will. Everyone needs a social life. Even the Police Commissioner of New York City."

"Well, I'm not so sure about that."

"Well, I am!"

Frank seemed uncomfortable with the conversation. I wasn't sure if it was the subject itself, or my aggressiveness. I had no doubt Frank Reagan was accustomed to being in control of all situations.

"I'm curious about your interest in my Chief of Staff."

"Oh, I was just surprised he allowed you out at night without him."

"Very funny, Nicole. Garrett and I are not attached at the hip."

"That's good to know because I think he could put a huge damper on an evening."

"I would tend to agree with you on that. Garrett's a good man, though. I couldn't ask for a more loyal advisor. Or friend, for that matter."

We had continued to walk around the art gallery as we talked, Frank nodding hello to the other patrons as we passed.

"Well, I think my work is done here," he finally said.

"You came, you saw, you were seen, you left."

"That sums it up pretty well. You live close, can I assume you walked?"

"Are you kidding me? In these heels? No way!"

I had dressed in a short, navy, simple cocktail dress, and navy three-inch spiked heels.

"Then can I offer you a ride home, if you're ready to leave?"

"I was hoping you would. And I am very much ready to leave."

We placed our glasses on the nearest tray, and worked our way to the exit, Frank's hand on the small of my back, guiding me along the way. Once outside, I said, "It's such a beautiful evening. We could walk."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I think it's a great idea." I removed my heels, slung them over my shoulder, and started down the sidewalk. "Come on, Frank."

Frank stood, first looking at me, and then the black SUV that was apparently his ride.

"Nicole—"

"What, Frank?"

"I have a driver. I can't just leave him here."

"Come on, Frank. I'll protect you from the bad guys."

"Very funny. I think we should get into the vehicle."

"And I think you should lighten up. Now, you have two choices. You either walk with me and enjoy the cool night air, or you just stand there, allowing me to walk home alone. It won't look good in tomorrow's paper when my slashed body, retrieved from a dumpster, makes the front page."

"Are you insinuating that my streets aren't safe?"

"I guess I'll find out."

Obviously annoyed by my actions, and struggling with what to do, Frank said, "Just give me a minute."

He walked over to the SUV, opened the back door, said something to the driver, removed his suit jacket, leaving on his black vest and red tie, folded his coat neatly, and placed it on the seat, closing the door when done.

We chatted as we walked. The SUV followed along behind us. Along the way, we encountered two young police officers patrolling the streets. As we neared, I recognized them as Frank's son Jamie and Jamie's partner, Officer Janko. They were talking, laughing, almost flirting with one another, it seemed. The moment they saw Frank, they jumped to attention.

"As you were, officers," Frank said. "Keeping our streets safe?"

"Trying to, sir," Jamie replied.

"Seems to be a quiet night," Frank said.

"Yes, sir. So far."

"Good. Let's hope it stays that way. Carry on, officers."

As we walked away, I could hear Officer Janko. "Isn't that the same woman from the park? I know I've seen her before."

"Shh. They can still hear us," Jamie said.

"Yes, we can!" Frank loudly replied, not looking back.

We could hear their giggles. Frank shook his head.

"They're cute together," I said.

"My officers are not supposed to be cute together. They are supposed to be efficient, effective."

"Do you ever stop being Police Commissioner, and just be Dad?"

"I do. At home. But as long as Jamie is in uniform, he is an officer of the NYPD, not my son."

"Can you separate the two?"

"I have no choice."

"It must be difficult, though."

"More than you could know. I have no doubt, however, that the son Jamie will be eager to share what he just saw with the rest of the family at dinner Sunday."

"Will that be a problem for you?"

"I'll see to it that it's not."

We had arrived at my home. I invited him in for a drink.

"Umm—" he replied, first looking at his watch, then the SUV.

"It's still early," I said. "One drink, surely you can handle that."

"I suppose one drink wouldn't hurt."

Once inside, I tossed my shoes, turned on a few lamps.

"Make yourself at home, Frank. I'll get that drink. Same as you were drinking earlier?"

"That'll be fine."

"Feel free to loosen the tie."

"My tie is fine, thank you."

"If you say so."

"I do."

We sat in the living room and talked for over an hour, refreshing our drinks once. Frank did most of the talking. I asked him all about his family. He seemed comfortable talking about them, especially his three grandchildren. He asked about my family.

"There's obviously no husband. So, do you have a long list of exes like your friend Sybil?"

I laughed. "No. Sybil and I are best friends, but we have little in common, other than both losing a husband by death. Mine died many years ago."

I didn't go into the details of his death. I didn't want to get into the discussion of 9/11. It was too depressing, for me, and for him as well, I felt sure.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he replied. "Any children?"

"No, we tried, but it never happened."

"Well, I can tell you from experience, they can be a pain in the ass, but they can be a blessing as well. Same with the grandchildren."

"Your children all turned out quite well, it seems. Two on the force, another one the Assistant DA. You must be very proud."

"I am. And as much I hate to leave good company, it's getting late, and I do have an early meeting in the morning."

He took the last sip of his drink, set his glass on the side table, and stood to leave.

I walked him to the door. He stood for a moment, both hands in his pants' pockets, staring at the Persian entryway rug as if studying the pattern of it.

Removing his glasses and placing them in the pocket of his perfectly pressed white shirt, and pursing his lips together as I had noticed he often did when contemplating an issue, or a question from the press, he looked at me and said, "You make me nervous, Nicole. Somehow I think you could be bad for me, but I enjoy being with you. I'd like to see you again."

"I'd like that, too."

He cupped my face with his large hands as he leaned down and softly kissed my lips. The kiss lasted only a second. The second kiss lasted much longer. His lips were soft and moist, the last sip of his scotch lingered on them as well as his breath. His mustache felt scratchy, just as Angelina, the heroine in my third novel, had said after her first kiss from her lover, Antonio. She had gotten used to it; I was sure I would as well, given a chance.

"Good night, Nicole."

"Good night, Frank."

I closed the door behind him, gathered my heels off the floor, and carried them to the bedroom closet, where I changed into comfortable pajamas. I returned to the living room, picked up Frank's empty glass, took it to the kitchen sink, poured myself a third glass of wine, and turned off the kitchen light. I walked into my study, flipped on the small desk lamp, sat, and waited impatiently for my computer to wake up.

The night was still somewhat early; I had much writing to do.