Free Amber's Embrace by Barbara Delinsky

carefree, but, then, those days were over and safety, sanity, and structure were what she and Scott needed.
    *   *   *
    “Amber! You look great!” The round-bellied man rose from his seat, offering both hands to her as she approached the table.
    “It’s good to see you, David.” Indulgently, she offered a lightly tanned cheek for his kiss, then slid into the chair which the tuxedo-garbed maitre d’ held for her. Smiling all the while, David Brigham gave a subconscious tug at the well-tailored jacket of his suit as he reclaimed the seat opposite hers.
    “You’re looking wonderful, Amber! Much better than the last time I saw you. We were all very concerned! And—I’m glad you finally agreed to let me take you out somewhere,” he chided, lowering his bushy gray eyebrows in mild reproach. “It’s not good to be that much of a hermit, you know.”
    Her eye skirted the room—taking in the elegant white linen and fine china setting on the tables, the unobtrusively diligent scurry of waiter, wine steward, and busboy alike, the aura of class and quiet dignity exuded by the other diners—before coming to rest on the ruddy-faced gentleman on whose ample lap she remembered sitting as a child. “Hmmm,” she teased, “if I’d known you were offering Locke-Ober’s, I would have taken you up on it sooner. This is a special treat—surpassed, of course, only by your company.” Her eyes softened as she smiled, and her long fingers clasped the rounder ones of her host in a warm squeeze.
    “Anything for Meg and Albert’s little girl,” he teased her affectionately, then shook his head in amazement. “You really were a wild bundle of spirit as a child. My friends had their hands full with you, my dear! But it seems that Father Time was the only one who could tame you after all. You’ve grown into a very mature and beautiful young woman, Amber.”
    Amber’s blush preceded her playful growl. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my friend.” Then, she sobered. “But I’m certainly not a little girl anymore—and I’ve got a very grown-up nine-year-old son to prove it.”
    One of the delightful things about David Brigham, from Amber’s viewpoint, was that he knew just about everything about her and Scott. As an old family friend, a college crony of her father’s, he had handled Amber’s divorce when she moved to Boston. As a prominent divorce attorney in the area, he also knew of the emotional stress faced by many a divorcée. She could relax and be herself with him, knowing that he would understand her well.
    “You just don’t age, though, Amber—regardless of what you may claim.” His clear brown eyes enveloped the woman before him, admiring her anew. Dressed in a simple lime-hued sheath, her hair clasped above either ear by an enameled comb and flowing down over her shoulders, her face practically bare of makeup but beautiful and healthy, she was the very image of youth. He sighed good-naturedly. “To look at you, I’d say you’re all of twenty-two. Now how did a twenty-two-year-old swing a nine-year-old son?”
    Amber’s face lit up with her grin. “You always were good for my ego, David Brigham, but I can see right through you. You know as well as I do that I’ll be twenty-nine on my next birthday.”
    A dismissing wave heralded his words. “Well, no matter. You still look fabulous. Your parents will be glad to hear it—I have to call them tomorrow. You know, they’d really like to see more of you.”
    She did know. And, to a certain extent, the feeling was mutual. Yet there was the realm of memories, still too fresh, which lurked about every corner back home. She lowered her eyes defensively. “I do miss them. It’s just so much more … comfortable … here. You know, I have my own life … no past…”
    Mindful of the facts, he made no argument. “Are you seeing anyone special right now?”
    Startled, her gaze flew to his face. For an instant, she hesitated. The whirl of emotions