“ No , that was later , when we made out in the lifeguard ’ s chair . And what about you ? You said the look in my eyes ran through you like liquid fire .”
At that moment , a shelf of clouds backed away , and a great streak of sunlight blistered the surface of the East River before streaming through their soaring , wrap-around windows . From there , it bounced off the étagère with Sam ’ s prized collection of Roman military weapons , and zigzagged through Ruth ’ s mascara-thickened lashes to stab her in the right eye .
“ Stop a minute , Sam .” “ Stop what ?” “ Stop rubbing my tuchis . That ’ s what .” “ Why ?”
“ My eye is tearing . I better check my contact lens before my mascara smears .”
“ Now ?” “ No , tomorrow !” “ Okay , okay . You don ’ t have get sarcastic .”
And that ’ s when Ruth stopped dancing — she was no Ginger Rogers anyway — and disengaging from Sam ’ s embrace , she whipped out the gold-bejeweled hand mirror she routinely kept in the left pocket of her silk dressing gown . Then grabbing the tissue tucked inside her sleeve at the wrist , she turned her back to the window , focused on the needle in her eye , and blinked away a bead of mascara . That ’ s when turning , she noticed the headline in the Arts & Leisure section of The Sunday Times that was strewn across the well-worn club chair Sam thought of as his .
“ Why don ’ t we do it , Sam ?”
10
“ Do what ?”