The hours passed and the sun dipped low in the sky. I didn't notice until I began to feel hungry. I look up at Eric, who was recording a number of ideas we had just brainstormed at a furious pace.

"Hey," I said, "how about dinner?"

It slipped out so casually, so naturally, that only after the words were out of my mouth did I realize what I had done.

Not that it was unusual for me to eat out with clients or colleagues. As a matter of fact, Eric and I had lunched several times when he was in town for meetings. It was just that - this time - it felt different. I felt different.

"Great!" he said, "I'm starving! You pick the restaurant."

"Let's go to Jean's. It's a new French restaurant a block from Boston Commons. The food's excellent."

"Convenient, too," he said, "it's near my hotel. I'm beat! I'll be able to practically roll over into bed."

We got our coats and left.

There was a brisk wind. We talked more about our childhood and college years as we walked and discovered we had more in common than we had thought. We both loved Baroque music and dabbled in photography. We had each spent time in Europe, hitting all the museums. It was uncanny how similar our tastes were in art and in so many other things. I laughed when he offered to take me on a driving tour in January of Geneva-on-the-Lake, Ohio, a lakefront resort town. He said it was magnificent to see a frozen Ferris wheel.

From that we moved on to the latest piece of DC political gossip, followed by our very informed (and opposing) opinions on complementary medicine. Eric was great to argue with - outrageous without any of the personal baggage.

He took my elbow as we crossed streets. It was a gesture that seemed to come naturally to him. I liked his touch of "old world" politeness.

I didn't want to admit it then but something very powerful was happening between the two of us. The feelings were too strong to be platonic, too pleasurable to be innocent and, considering the state of my marriage, exactly what I needed from a man.

We arrived at the restaurant and Eric steered me toward the bar while we waited for a table. When we sat down and the waiter came, Eric asked me, with a smile in his eyes, "May I order for you?" "Sure, go ahead!" He ordered salmon mousse with cucumber salad and Chicken Celestine. They were my favorite French foods, and he had remembered.

Between the salmon and the chicken we finalized some details of the agreement, shook on it and Eric ordered a bottle of Chardonnay to celebrate. I sipped the first glass while he shared with me more personal details of his life - stories about his two kids, who he adored, and the painful separation and impending divorce from his wife.

I lowered my eyes and sipped more wine.

"You know," he said, changing the subject, "I like your earrings. They're very pretty with that shade of green," he said, referring to the silk blouse beneath my suit. I felt myself blushing. I hoped he didn't notice. "Thanks...," I answered lamely, as I held the cool wine glass to my cheek. "You know it's kind of hot in here."

He laughed and so did I.

I realized that I couldn't remember the last time I had smiled so much or felt so utterly at ease and peaceful. We allowed ourselves another glass of wine, and I began to get a little sleepy. Wine always has that effect on me.

It also makes me hungry. I reached into the straw basket for another roll. He did too and our hands touched. My God, I thought, what am I doing getting excited over a man's hand brushing mine?

I felt something move inside me that frightened me. What if he was feeling the same thing? Fantasies were fine, I thought, as long as they remained one-sided. But was his imagination going in the same direction as mine?

I'd never been unfaithful to Dan, though I can't say I'd never been tempted. But it wasn't just physical attraction that I felt towards Eric. I liked who I was with him and I loved the way I felt when we were together.

I also felt terror and a dangerous thrill.

By the third glass of wine, I knew what was coming. I could see the direction our conversation was taking - the lowered voices, the small confessions and shared secrets... I felt our hands touch again.

When Eric spoke again, the tone of his voice had changed. "Carmen," he paused, "I have very strong feelings for you. I know this is dangerous for both of us, but I just have to say it. I don't think I'm misreading you when I say I think you feel the same thing towards me."

I watched the last of the wine swirl in the bottom of my glass as I nervously spun it between the palms of my hands. I felt something in the pit of my stomach that was a combination of fear, indecision and burning desire.

I knew that a decision was going to have to be made quickly and I would have to be the one to make it.