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  Cal. Cal was going to win that damn bet. He always won, the bastard. “I’ll call her,” David said. “We’ll have lunch. I’ll play it by ear.”

  “Don’t screw this up, David,” Cynthie said. “My life is riding on it. My career is riding on it. I need that wedding picture on my book cover!’

  “You know—” David began, but Cynthie had already hung up. “Wonderful,” he said, and began to dial Min.

  Min was sitting at her desk, trying to be sensible, when the phone rang. Cal, she thought, and then kicked herself. They had a good sensible plan that would prevent either one of them from getting hurt, they were logical, rational people, so that certainly wasn’t him calling. The phone rang again, and she picked it up and said, “Minerva Dobbs,” and waited for Cal to say, “Hi, Minnie, how’s the cat?”

  “Min,” David said. “Have lunch with me. We need to talk.”

  “No, we don’t,” Min said, trying hard not to be disappointed. “But I do need lunch. We can go Dutch.”

  “No, I’ll pay” David said. “I mean, I’d like to pay.”

  “Sure, fine,” Min said, confused.

  “I’ll meet you at Serafino’s at noon then?” David said.

  “Is that the place where the chef is trying to make a statement with food?”

  “It’s the hottest place in town,” David said.

  “This should be good,” Min said and hung up, chalking the whole thing up to the general weirdness of her life lately.

  When she got to the restaurant, David was waiting. He stood and smiled when he saw her, and then he stared. Min looked down and realized he was focusing on the blue gauze top beneath her gray-checked jacket.

  “You look wonderful,” he said.

  “I’m evolving,” Min said, sitting down at the inlaid table. “I’m also starving. What’s good here?” She looked around at the silver and blue. “Besides the decorating.”

  “I already ordered,” David said. “I didn’t want you to have to wait.”

  “Thoughtful of you.” Min called the waiter back and changed her order to salad and chicken marsala. Might as well see what Emilio’s competition was doing.

  “I think I made a mistake,” David said, when the waiter had placed his bowl of chilled chestnut watercress soup in front of him.

  “I think so, too,” Min said, looking at the beautifully garnished sludge in his bowl. “You’re going to hate that soup. There’s a hot dog vendor outside. Maybe we should—”

  “Not the order.” David took a deep breath and smiled. “Min, I want you back.”

  Min stopped fishing overly artistic vegetable flourishes out of her salad. “What?”

  “I was hasty,” David said, and went on while Min thought, The bet. That damn bet. You’re afraid you’re going to lose the bet.

  She sat back and considered the situation as David rambled on. Somehow, David had gotten the idea she was going to sleep with Cal. Now where would that have come from? The thought that it might be Cal gloating to him made her ill for a moment, but then common sense came back. Cal wasn’t a gloater. Also, he wasn’t dumb, and it would take somebody really dumb to tip off an opponent that he was about to lose. And anyway, Cal wouldn’t.

  “Are you listening to me?” David said.

  “No,” Min said. “Why are you doing this?”

  “That’s what I was just telling you—”

  “No,” Min said, “you were telling me about you. You were hasty, you were thoughtless, you were stupid—”

  “I didn’t say stupid,” David said, sounding testy.

  “Where am I in all of this?” Min said.

  “In my life, I hope,” David said, and he sounded so sincere, Min was taken aback. “I asked you out in the beginning because I thought you’d make a good wife, and I still think that, but what I missed was how . . .” He stopped and took her hand and Min let him, just to see what would happen next. “ . . . how sweet you are.”

  “No, I’m not,” Min said, trying to take her hand back.

  “And how . . .” He looked at her gauze blouse. “ . . . sexy you are. You’ve changed.”

  Min yanked her hand back. “David, this is buyer’s remorse, or the opposite of buyer’s remorse. If you got me back, you’d dump me again. Go date one of those skinny women you like to look at.”

  David started to say something but stopped as the waiter brought his veal whatever and her chicken marsala. Min sliced into the chicken and tasted it. “Bacon. And tomato. What kind of fool puts bacon and tomato in chicken marsala?”

  “Min . . .”

  “You can even see the bacon pieces in the sauce. Emilio would spit.”

  “You’re not taking me seriously,” David said.

  “I know,” Min said, putting down her fork. “Honest to God, what were they thinking!”

  “What I’m trying to tell you,” David said, “is that I think we should date again.”

  “No, you don’t,” Min said. “You’re panicking because I’m dating somebody else. Taste your soup.”

  “I’m not—”

  “The soup,” Min said.

  David tasted the soup and made a face. “What the hell?”

  “I told you.” Min pushed her plate away. “Never go anyplace the chef is trying to talk with food. You’ll end up paying for his ego. Sort of like dating.” She picked up her purse. “I’m sorry, David, but we have no future. We’re not even going to finish this lunch, although I do appreciate you paying for it. Thank you.”

  “Where are you going?” David said, outraged as she stood up.

  “To get a hot dog,” Min said. “I think that vendor had brats.”

  Emilio called Cal on Tuesday night at six. “Min ordered takeout again,” he said. “You taking it to her?”

  “Yes,” Cal said automatically and then remembered they weren’t seeing each other. “No.” Which didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends. “Yes.” Which was a huge rationalization. “No.”

  “Uh huh,” Emilio said. “So that’s a no?”

  On the other hand, he had to eat. And he should thank her for taking care of him on Saturday. And he wanted to see her. “No,” Cal said. “That’s a yes. I’ll take it to her.”

  Chapter Eight

  Min answered the door in her godawful sweats again, no makeup and her curly hair going every which way. She looked wonderful. “Hi,” she said, sounding surprised, and then she grinned. “Emilio shanghaied you, huh?”

  “He said you were starving,” Cal said, smiling back in spite of himself. “You took me to the ER. You put a glass of water by my bed. I owe you.”

  “That’s lame,” she said, but she stood back and he walked in, glad to see her ugly cat staring one-eyed at him from the back of her ugly couch.

  “I can’t believe you still have that cat,” Cal said, unpacking the bag onto the table. “What did you name it?”

  “I can’t believe you brought me that cat,” Min said, heading for her kitchen alcove. “And I haven’t named it anything yet. We’re still trying to decide if we want to make a commitment. Although he does come home every night and sleep with me.”

  “Smart cat,” Cal said.

  “I was thinking about trying to make him an indoor cat because cats live longer if they’re kept indoors, but he’s a guy, so I’m assuming he’d hate being tied down.”

  “Depends on what you tied him to,” Cal said, thinking of her brass bed.

  Min brought plates to the table. “You know, if you’d brought me a snow globe I could understand, but a cat?”

  “You said you didn’t want a snow globe.”

  “I don’t,” Min said. “Well, I want my grandma’s Mickey and Minnie globe back. Bring my grandma’s back to me, and I’ll love you until the end of time. Bring me another cat, I’m going to rethink the whole chicken marsala thing.”

  “Speaking of which,” Cal said, “what happened this time?”

  Min groaned and went back to the alcove and Cal followed her, feeling right at home. �€