While she waits, she pops the cork on the champagne, (ooo, he did get the good stuff) and pours them both a glass, leaving the bottle in the ice. After a moment's consideration, she concedes, and pours him a glass of Scotch as well.

That leaves her to pace about the flat, listening to him shower, trying to decide just what to do with herself.

Eventually, she settles in his chair, leaning on one elbow and trying to remember the last time she was this nervous about a romantic liaison. Too long to remember, or too nervous to compare, she can't decide. When he emerges, wearing only a towel, she can't help the rush of heat to her cheeks, or the way her heart seems to be racing in her chest. He still wears the fine gold chain she remembers, and that memory makes her heart swell.

'Do you remember that day at Edgehampton? The vault?'