"Damn, I was hoping you'd Jazzercise with me." He was not. They stand there, further apart than they otherwise might be, and it occurs to him that this is about where he would have been back when they first met. The temptation to close every gap between them, to scoop her into his arms and carry her to bed, is making his fingertips itch.

"Actually," he tells her, in just the same tone she asked him, "I was planning on taking you into the other room and ravishing you - but I could show you the door, if you really wanted me to."