“THIS IS NOT a date, Nick,” she said that evening as they were driving to the Montclair high school. “Right,” he agreed, too readily. Nick flashed her a dazzling smile before turning his attention back to maneuvering the car through the busy parkway traffic. Just his nearness overwhelmed her. He looked so handsome. She’d never seen him in a tux before. She had to admit that accompanying him to this prom, no matter how foolish, was worth it, just to see him in formal attire. Forget about Playgirl centerfolds. Nick in a black tuxedo was sexier than any of the nude models, hands down. “And we’re not getting back together,” she asserted. “The divorce still goes through on Wednesday.” His strong hands, lean-fingered and capable, gripped the steering wheel with a vengeance, turning the knuckles white. Staring straight ahead, he agreed, “Right.” But there was a gritty tone to his voice.
