Her face lit up with pleasure as she saw him approach, and she reached out a hand to him in greeting. “Ben, it’s so good to see you,” she told him with a warm smile. “How was Antigua?”

He returned her smile, giving her hand a brief squeeze before taking his seat. “Hot, humid, and crowded. But the new resort was pretty spectacular so I suppose it was worth it. How’s everything been here?”

Her dark eyes twinkled. “Cool, drizzly, and crowded.”

Ben chuckled as he took a sip of water. “I could see that for myself when I landed a few days ago. More specifically, what’s been going on with you? Write any interesting articles lately?”

Elle was always eager to talk about her job at The New Yorker, where she was a staff writer. “Only an interview with Harold Fielding,” she declared triumphantly. “An interview that might just land me a few rungs higher up the ladder for that promotion I’ve been angling for.”

“That’s great, Elle,” he told her sincerely. “I’ll look forward to reading the interview with Harold, uh, Fields.”

Elle gave him an indulgent smile. “You have no idea who he is, do you?”

Ben returned her smile sheepishly. “Guess I’m not very good at faking it, am I? The name sounds familiar but - ”

“His latest book has been on the New York Times bestseller list for six months,” clarified Elle. “He writes political fiction, and he’s brilliant. Just brilliant. It was a real coup for me to snag that interview.”

As they ate lunch – a strawberry kale salad and herbal tea for Elle, grilled salmon and mineral water for Ben – she talked at length about the interview she’d done with the famed writer that he had honestly never heard of until now. He feigned polite interest in her recounting, making comments or asking questions from time to time, but nearly half of what Elle said went over his head as usual, as it had from the very first time they’d met.

He’d only been in New York a couple of weeks, still learning his way around not only the bustling, perplexing city but the maze of offices occupied by the Conde Nast Group as well. The publishing conglomerate owned more than twenty different magazines, including the famed literary magazine that Elle worked for.

Ben had been searching for the Human Resources Department to drop off some additional forms they’d asked for, and somehow got rather hopelessly lost in the process. Elle had been walking past as he’d been wandering the hallways and taken pity on him. She had personally escorted him to HR, and then surprised him by waiting outside until he was finished.

“Just to make sure you don’t get lost again,” she’d teased. “By the way, I’m Elle Kimbrough, a staff writer for the New Yorker.”

Ben had shaken her slim, elegant hand. “Ben Rafferty. New travel writer for Conde Nast. Nice to meet you.”

They’d wound up having coffee – herbal tea for Elle – at the employee cafeteria, where Ben had gratefully listened to all the advice she’d eagerly imparted about the company, and New York City in general. He had learned that Elle had been born and raised in London, the only child of a British father and an Indian mother. She’d graduated from Cambridge with a double major in English and political science, before getting her master’s degree in journalism from NYU.

It had been very obvious from her elegant designer suit, posh accent, and flawless manners that Elle had come from a very upper crust family. As they’d continued to chat, she had told him that her father was a top ranking executive at British Petroleum, while her mother’s family was actually descended from royalty in India.

She’d wrinkled her aristocratic little nose in mild distaste to learn he was living in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, but hadn’t commented otherwise. Elle and a former NYU classmate shared a floor in the brownstone her parents owned in one of the toniest neighborhoods in Manhattan.

And it had also been obvious to Ben right from that first casual meeting that Elle was very interested in him. Oh, she was far too well-bred and reserved to have done something as crass as make a pass at him, but he hadn’t missed the way her dark eyes held all sorts of hidden promises, or the rather deliberate way she kept smiling at him.

Elle’s interest, however, had been completely one-sided and continued to be so. There was no denying that she was a very pretty woman, of medium height and almost ethereally slender. She was highly intelligent, a skilled conversationalist, and overall a very pleasant, likeable person. But Ben had yet to feel anything for her beyond friendship and admiration, had never had the slightest urge to become intimate with her or even hold her hand. She was his friend, his colleague, but she would never be more as long as his heart still belonged to someone else.

Elle knew that he’d been involved with someone a few years back, and that the relationship had had a profound, intense effect on him. And when he’d told Elle that he was still very much in love with this woman, she had backed off on her subtle efforts to mold their friendship into something deeper.

So now they met for lunch or coffee every couple of weeks, exchanged texts once in awhile, discussed their current work assignments. Elle was always giving him suggestions about where to get his hair cut, where the best restaurants in his neighborhood were, made a point of introducing him to other colleagues. And on a handful of occasions they had seen a movie together and once a Broadway play. But Ben persisted in keeping their interactions as low-key and casual as possible, treating Elle solely as a friend, and even teased her about the continual stream of eligible bachelors that her family and friends set her up with. And while he sensed she still wanted more, she seemed content to keep things status quo – at least for now.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Elle said in a bubbly voice. “My boss was so pleased with the Fielding interview that he gave me tickets to the new Brian Stokes Mitchell musical. Would you like to go with me? All of the reviews have been glowing.”

Ben hesitated. Musicals and plays really weren’t his thing, but he knew how much Elle adored the theatre. The one and only time he’d accompanied her to a play he had felt like an unschooled idiot, not understanding half of what was going on, and he’d struggled desperately not to yawn in boredom.

“Uh, sure,” he found himself agreeing automatically, aware that she was gazing at him expectantly. “When is it exactly?” He pulled out his phone and scrolled to the calendar function.

“A week from Thursday. I thought we could catch an early dinner first,” she ventured.

Ben forced himself to sound regretful as he shook his head, though in truth he was silently relieved to notice the entry on his calendar. “I’m sorry, Elle, but I can’t make it. I fly out this Sunday to Russia and won’t be back until the following weekend.”

“Oh. Drat.” Elle looked crestfallen. “I wouldn’t have thought they’d send you out again so soon, given that you just returned from Antigua.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been home for a week, and still have five more days until I leave again. That’s a pretty standard timeframe in between trips. Plus, there’s been something of a rush lately to get as much traveling done as possible before the winter months.”

She nodded. “I get it. Maybe some other time, then.”

Elle continued to look so disappointed that he felt compelled to offer, “Hey, why don’t we try and get together this Friday? One of my co-workers offered me tickets to the Knicks game. It’s still officially pre-season but it should be a good game anyway.”

She wrinkled her nose in that odd little way she occasionally did. “What is that – baseball?”

He smiled indulgently. “Basketball. And I’m guessing you aren’t a big sports fan.”

Unwillingly, he recalled that Lauren had been an avid sports enthusiast. Baseball had been in full swing during his time in Big Sur, and she’d been glued to the TV each time her beloved San Francisco Giants had played. When she’d learned that Ben was a lifelong Cincinnati Red fan, she had ribbed him unmercifully, especially when the two teams happened to play each other. She’d made him a bet on the outcome of the game, and he had to stifle a groan as he recalled the terms.