"Can you park here?" Martha asked when they were still some distance from her building. "It's such a nice night, I'd like a walk."
"Sure." Jonathan parallel parked his truck by the curb and came around to her side to open the door. As he helped her out, he lifted amused eyebrows. "Are you sure those heels won't be a problem?"
"Nah. We girls get used to them." She grinned at him. "And they say women are the weaker sex."
Jonathan chuckled as he shut the door behind her. The two of them walked for a little while in a comfortable silence. As they passed the fountain where they'd had their first conversation, Martha gazed at it dreamily, thinking how romantic it looked in the moonlight.
Then she caught her heel in a crack in the sidewalk and nearly went sprawling.
"Whoa!" Jonathan grabbed her arm and held her up.
Martha leaned against him and steadied herself, not knowing whether to be embarrassed or laugh. Jonathan made the decision for her. "I hate to say I told you so—" he began, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Then don't say it." She put a hand playfully over his mouth. "It's all your fault, anyway."
"My fault?"
She started to walk again, hoping he hadn't noticed her blushing over her silly fall. "If you weren't so darned tall, I wouldn't have to wear such high heels."
"Oh, is that it? I thought it was because you were so darned short."
"Watch it, buster!" Martha turned too quickly, lost her balance, and almost went down again. Jonathan grabbed both her arms this time, laughing.
"Hey, I thought that was just a ginger ale you ordered! Or did you tell them to put something stronger in it?"
Mortified as she was—I am throwing these stupid shoes away the minute I get home!—Martha was laughing too. "I guess you'd better carry me home," she gasped.
"With pleasure." Jonathan leaned down and slipped an arm around her shoulders as if to scoop her up; she put both arms around his neck. Their eyes met, and their laughter died away.
Martha felt her face turning hot again—not from embarrassment this time—as she stared up into Jonathan's eyes, everything gone from her mind but the warmth of his arm and the sound of his breathing so near her. She took a step closer, lifting her face to his.
At the same moment, Jonathan let go of her shoulders and straightened so that she had to break her hold.
"On second thought, I think I'll make you walk. Serves you right for making fun of my height." His voice was still teasing, but there was a strange expression on his face. He looked uncertain, almost—worried? What on earth does he have to be worried about?
Martha took a second to catch her breath, then tried to match his tone, to keep from sounding as confused as she felt. "Well, the least you could do is give me an arm, sir."
"Certainly, ma'am." Jonathan seemed to have regained his composure as he made a little bow and offered her his arm. She took it, a bit more tentatively than she would have half an hour ago. They walked on in a silence that no longer felt comfortable. But there was a determined set to Martha's jaw that, despite the moonlight, it was too dark for Jonathan to notice.
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Martha felt her palms getting damp with nervousness as they climbed the outside steps of her building. At the top she stopped and faced him, so that he had to stand on the step below her. There, that was better. Now they were at eye level.
"Jonathan—I had a really good time."
"I did too." As he reached to take her hand, Martha thought, Okay, sweetheart, now or never. She put both her hands up to his face, leaned forward, and kissed him. The kiss lasted even longer than she'd intended it to last, as she felt his arms go around her and draw her closer.
She finally pulled back and looked into his eyes again, one hand still touching his cheek. She didn't have to wonder anymore how he felt. Everything she'd wanted to know was there on his face.
She felt a huge, silly grin spreading over her own face, and didn't try to control it.
"Good night, Jonathan," she said softly, after a long moment, and walked into the building.
TBC . . .