Miranda shrugged, thin dress-strap falling across a pale, freckled arm. "Maybe." Orlando continued to chop the celery into pieces, large hands a blur as he expertly wielded the knife. "You won't get him." "Oh?" "He doesn't see anyone except Sean." Miranda swallowed the mellow Chardonnay and nodded. "Yeah, thought so." "Y'know, there are other options." Miranda watched Orlando's hands for a minute -- tanned, capable, strong. Thought about options. About not-so-out-of-the-blue invitations to dinner. About her favorite wine waiting when she'd stepped in the door. And returned Orlando's small smile with one of her own.
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