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  Not good. She felt her panic rise and told herself to stay calm. This was what risking was all about. It was a setback, not a failure. All she had to do was analyze what she’d done wrong.

  Well, first, she’d been dumb. She was used to people who wanted to talk to her, who were dying to describe the centerpieces at their anniversary parties. She should have been more convincing. Second, she should have known that the serenity Janice Meredith had shown in the restaurant was at least partly a cover for her pain. She should have been more careful. And approaching her in the elevator, that had been stupid too. Think from now on, she told herself.

  All right. She was going to have to wait until the woman had calmed down before she could even hope to approach her, and even then it was going to be tough. Somehow, she had to convince her of her sincerity. Somehow, she had to show Janice Meredith that she was a reputable journalist, a sympathetic ear. Of course the woman wouldn’t talk to just anybody about this. Even if she was committed to a new life of risking, that didn’t mean the wounds from the old life weren’t still fresh.

  But if a friend approached her … If a friend told her that this marvelous journalist wanted to present her side of the story … If a friend—

  Somehow, she had to get an introduction from somebody Janice Meredith trusted.

  There had been two of them in the restaurant. Trella and Victoria. There might be several Victorias in the pop literature program, but Dennie was willing to bet there’d be only one Trella. And while Victoria looked sharp, Trella had been only marginally sentient, much like the two guys who’d tried to pick her up in the lobby. Trella was the one to go for.

  She punched the button for the lobby and went to pick up her bag and find a program and get her racing heart back under control.

  Alec was back sitting in his favorite seat by the brass archway to the bar when the brunette crossed the lobby again. At last, he thought. She’d been gone from the restaurant when he’d gotten back from his phone call, and he’d lost her for half an hour. It made him nervous to think of the scores she could have been making while he was looking for her, but she was there now, steaming across the lobby to the phones.

  Didn’t this woman ever just walk anywhere? Every time he saw her, she was moving full tilt. She’d run Bond into the ground with all that energy. The thought of Bond as recipient of the brunette’s energy made him envious. Harry had told him to make a move on her again. It was his duty to draw a little of that energy for himself.

  He straightened to go join her, and then stopped. She was on the phone, checking her watch, and then she hung up and sat down, obviously waiting for someone. Alec relaxed back into his chair to see what she was up to.

  Fifteen minutes later, a little blue-haired woman in a silver-gray suit got off the elevator and crossed toward her, and Alec sighed. He knew her, Trella Madison, an old friend of his aunt’s, and he also knew she was every con man’s dream: friendly, wealthy, and dumb as a rock.

  It was starting.

  “Thank you for meeting me,” Dennie said, sinking into a gilt chair next to Trella. The huge overplush lobby wasn’t the best place for an interview—the gold furniture and red-flocked walls made the place look like a nineteenth century Whores “R” Us—but Dennie couldn’t afford to be choosy. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this,” she told Trella.

  “Well, I really just came to tell you that I couldn’t possibly talk to you about Janice.” Trella beamed at her. “And really, I wish you would just forget this whole thing. You seem like a nice person.” She patted Dennie’s hand.

  “Oh, I am.” Dennie leaned forward and projected sincerity with every cell in her body. “And I do sympathize with Professor Meredith. Truly, I do. That’s why I want to do the interview with her. The press can be savage on something like this.” She beamed back at Trella, trying to look intelligent, compassionate, warm, and honest at the same time. It shouldn’t have been hard, she felt all of those things, but trying to keep them on her face made her feel like a fraud. “If you could just tell her that I mean only the best for her, and I mean the best—”

  “You know, dear, I think it’s a mistake to talk to the press,” Trella said, a trifle abstracted. “Sometimes they misquote you, and then sometimes they don’t, and you’ve really said those things, which can be so much worse.”

  “Don’t think of me as the press,” Dennie said, trying not to let her intensity flatten the little woman. “Think of me as a friend with a tape recorder. Think of me as somebody who would not dream of misquoting anyone because this is the biggest story of my career, and I want desperately to get everything right.”

  “I don’t think careers like this are good for a woman,” Trella said. “They make a woman hard.” She tilted her head at Dennie. “You don’t look hard yet. Although there is that line between your eyes. Lines are so bad. Why don’t you just find a nice man and forget this?” Trella patted Dennie’s hand again.

  Dennie clenched her teeth and tried to remember that if she ripped Trella’s head off, she’d never get the Meredith interview. “Well,” she said carefully instead, “don’t you think that since I’m not hard yet, that I would be a good person—”

  “Miss Banks?”

  Dennie jerked her head up at the man’s voice. He was a young suit, probably early thirties, painfully thin, prematurely balding and visibly uncomfortable. He was standing beside Janice Meredith.

  This could not be good.

  “Miss Banks? I’m Paul Baxter, the manager here, and I was wondering if I could see you for a moment?” The man’s voice was pleading.

  “Why?” Dennie asked, keeping a wary eye on Janice.

  “I forgot to tell you, dear,” Trella said. “I did call Janice and mention I was meeting you. I hope you don’t mind—”

  This is bad, Dennie told herself as her heartbeat moved into overdrive. Nothing I can’t handle, but it’s bad.

  Janice Meredith broke in. “It’s very simple, Miss Banks. I have reported your harassment to Mr. Baxter. If you attempt to question either myself or any of my friends again, I’ll have you arrested. Ohio has a stalking law, you know.”

  “Stalking?” Dennie blinked, confusion goosing her nervousness along. “I’m on your side. Why would I stalk you? If you’d just let me—”

  “Trust me, Miss Banks,” Janice Meredith said evenly, “I know exactly who is on my side. And you’re not even close. Come with me, Trella.”

  Trella stood up and smiled uncertainly at Dennie. “It was lovely talking to you, dear. Good luck on finding a man.”

  When they were gone, Dennie realized she was trembling and clenched her hands together to stop the shaking.

  The manager cleared his throat. “I’m sure this was just a misunderstanding,” he said, clasping and unclasping his hands. Dennie knew just how he felt. “But if you could avoid Dr. Meredith whenever possible, we’d all be very grateful. And we would like to avoid the police.”

  “Right,” Dennie said. “The police would be bad.”

  “Thank you,” Mr. Baxter said. “I’m sure you meant well, but Dr. Meredith is very powerful, and I just got this promotion, and I—we—the hotel, that is—well, me too—we really can’t afford the bad publicity.”

  “I understand,” Dennie said, beginning to feel sorry for him, but sorrier for herself. She’d almost had a heart attack in the ugliest hotel lobby in Ohio.

  “The police would probably be bad publicity.” Mr. Baxter sounded unsure.

  “I’d bet on it,” Dennie said.

  “Well, then, you understand.” Mr. Baxter nodded once, turned away, turned back, and said, “Uh, enjoy your stay.”

  “Thank you,” Dennie said.

  When he was gone, Dennie leaned back for a moment trying to calm her panic-stricken heart. You need to find someone you can’t charm, Patience had told her, and then Fate sent her Janice Meredith. What a shame she couldn’t call Patience on her honeymoon and tell her; somebody should be enjoying this. Think, she told herself, an