DAN HEADED FOR A PUB HE KNEW ON SECOND Avenue. The whole way there in the car, Melanie felt nervous and guilty that she was even doing this. But now that she’d agreed to it, she couldn’t very well make him take her right home. Besides, it would disappoint him so. Just one quick drink, she told herself. That wasn’t a crime.

As they looked for parking, she marveled that she’d never been on this block before, a mere five minutes from her apartment. New York was funny that way. A few blocks in either direction and you might as well be on a different continent. On either side of the street, low-rise tenements with lacy ironwork fire escapes, standing since the turn of the last century, alternated with dowdy white-brick high-rises built thirty or forty years ago, after the demolition of the elevated train. The avenue was lined with bars on both sides. Bankers and analysts in their twenties, the men dapper and suited, the women perfectly made up, in heels and skirts, spilled out of the tonier places. In the midst of the frenetic singles scene, a number of Irish pubs hung on stubbornly, one indistinguishable from the next. They stood ramshackle and deserted next to their flourishing neighbors, shamrocks on their tattered awnings, neon Guinness signs in their grimy plate-glass windows. Dan parked in front of one of these.

The place was empty except for a couple of weather-beaten longshoreman types shooting darts in the back. They glanced up as Dan and Melanie entered, then turned indifferently back to their game. A smell of disinfectant from the bathrooms mingled with the yeasty smell of stale beer. Melanie sat down on a stool at a high wooden table. Dan headed for the bar without asking her what she wanted. She watched him walk away. He moved like an athlete, that combination of power and grace. An old jukebox stood tucked in an alcove, and he stopped there on his way, depositing a quarter he took from his pocket. Sinatra came on-“I’ve Got You Under My Skin.” She listened to the lyrics as Dan walked back toward her with two pints of foamy, dark brown Guinness and two meat pies.

“Hey, let me give you some money,” she said, reaching into her bag.

“No way. I said it was my treat. Besides, the man always pays.”

“But I know you’re short till Friday.”

“Not necessary,” he said, blushing. “I know the bartender. That’s why I picked this place.”

She saw he was embarrassed and kicked herself for bringing it up. As if she’d forgotten what it felt like to be strapped for cash.

“Okay then, thanks,” she said, lifting the beer mug. “Hey, what is this? There’s a shamrock imprinted in the foam.”

“It’s Guinness, missy, real authentic. That’s how they serve up a pint in the old country.”

She tasted it. “It’s so thick. I won’t need any dinner if I drink this.”

“I can’t believe I’m out with a girl who never had a Guinness before. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. You’re the champagne-and-caviar type if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Right. Every day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” She laughed at the thought. The beer was going to her head, coming as it did on an empty stomach and after the wine she’d drunk at the dinner. She’d better watch herself. She was supposed to be keeping her guard up with him, remember? She forced herself to focus on the case.

“So,” she said, “after looking at these bank records, I think Jed Benson was killed because he was dirty.”

“You’re like a bullet headed straight for the target, you know that?” he said, smiling.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We just sat down. Can’t we talk about something other than the case for five minutes?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. What you do in your free time, or what your best subjects were in school, or when you had your first kiss?”

“This is not a date, you know.”

“Aw, come on. Humor me a little. What’s it gonna cost ya?”

Maybe more than either of us knows, she thought, looking into his eyes. The feeling of being with him, of how much he wanted to be with her, was so heady. She was too vulnerable right now, and he was too attractive. She had no idea where this was going, but something told her she should stop it.

“Why do you care when I had my first kiss?” she asked. She’d intended to shut him down, but all this talk about kissing was getting to her. She couldn’t help glancing at his mouth. Which was beautiful, of course, strong and sensual.

“I just want to know you better, that’s all,” he said. He reached for her left hand, taking it in his, and tracing a fingertip lightly across her empty ring finger. “Like, what’s up with this?”

She pulled her hand away and picked up her drink again, trying hard to ignore her racing pulse.

“I forgot to wear my rings this morning. So?” she said, looking down into her beer.

“Yeah? Look me in the eye and tell me that.”

She looked up. Caught in the tractor beam of his gaze, she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “Maybe it’s none of your business,” she said tentatively, setting the mug back down without drinking.

“Melanie, I’m your friend. At least I want to be. I get this feeling like you need one.”

She sighed, saying nothing.

“Believe me, I know where you’re coming from,” he continued. “I’m a pretty private person myself. I been through some shit of my own and not talked about it. It gets lonely. I don’t mean to push. It’s just…”

He trailed off. There was genuine concern in his eyes, and something else, too. Something like pain. She felt a powerful urge to confide in him, to tell him everything. Not just about her marriage either, but everything about her, from when she was a child. But she couldn’t let herself. She and Steve were going to work on things. Today he’d finally seemed ready to. She had Maya to think of. She’d decided all that already, hadn’t she?

Dan watched the struggle play out on her face. “It’s just…I don’t want you to be lonely when you don’t need to be. Something’s going on. Tell me, you’ll feel better.”

She felt like she was swimming upstream, and all she wanted was to give in and let the current sweep her away. She couldn’t help herself. She needed whatever it was Dan was offering her.

“My husband and I, we separated. But it’s only temporary. I mean, it may not be permanent.”

“Why? What happened?” he asked.

“Oh, the usual story. It used to be the secretary, right? But now it’s the-what do they call ’em-the executive assistant?”

“He cheated on you?” he asked incredulously.

She shrugged like it was obvious, but his surprise pleased her.

“What a fucking retard! He never deserved you in the first place. I’ll tell him so to his face. Hell, I’ll beat the shit out of him if you want me to.”

“No, that’s okay. Thanks, though. I think.” She laughed, shaking her head.

He leaned toward her across the tall table and reached for her hand again. Their fingers intertwined. Her heart began beating wildly. Her brain told her to pull away, but this time her hand didn’t obey.

“Hey,” he began, leaning even closer. “Can I tell you something?”

“What?” she asked breathlessly, afraid of what he might say. This was moving way too fast. She waited for his next words, but in the second of silence, her cell phone began shrieking inside her bag.

“Don’t answer it,” he said, but she took her hand from his and reached for her bag. By the time she found her phone, the ringing had stopped. She looked at the number-Steve’s cell phone.

“I totally forgot! I was supposed to meet my husband. Hold on,” she said, and checked her voice mail. Steve had called from a taxi on his way to the therapist’s office to give her the address. “I have to go,” she told Dan.

“Why?” He looked crestfallen. “Don’t. Not yet.”

“Like I said, the separation might not be permanent. We’re working on things. We have a counseling appointment.”