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  Dennie tapped him on the nose with her breadstick. “Pay attention. Do … you … know … Janice … Meredith?”

  “No,” Alec said, enjoying the view. “But my aunt does. You know, Thursday is a notoriously bad day for making decisions. Maybe you ought to reconsider—”

  “Sleeping with a man I just met whose main occupation seems to be staring at my breasts? No.” Dennie leaned back. “You’re cute, Alec, but my Yorkie, Walter, is deeper than you are. My next relationship, which is going to be several years in the future when my career is well-established, is also going to be my last, and it’s going to be deep. Tell me about your aunt.”

  “I’m deep,” Alec said, and then grinned. “Okay, I may be no match for Walter, but I have depths. And if you were deep, you wouldn’t be wearing that dress or that underwear. Purple lace? No.”

  Dennie looked down. “You’re right. This calls for a whole new wardrobe.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Alec began, but their salads arrived, and Dennie attacked hers. She had a good, healthy appetite, he noticed. That usually boded well for other things. If she hadn’t decided to give up other things. Maybe he could convince her not to give them up yet, all in the line of duty, of course. He tried to imagine explaining to Harry how seducing Dennie fell in the line of duty.

  The hell with Harry.

  Unfortunately she wanted deep, and he’d been projecting dumb. And if he was going to be honest, deep was not in his repertoire anyway. Smart, yes; brave, yes; fast-thinking, yes; honest, yes. Deep, no. But he might be able to fake it.

  “Tell me about your career,” Alec said.

  “Why?” Dennie looked at him suspiciously from behind a forkful of dripping greens.

  “I want to know why you’re giving up the best sex you would have ever had for some dumb job.”

  “Okay, that sounds more like you,” Dennie said, and ate her salad.

  “More like me?”

  “For a minute there, I thought you were trying to be sensitive,” Dennie said after she’d swallowed. “With you, that could only mean one thing.”

  Alec tried to look blank and insulted at the same time. “Thank you.”

  Dennie shrugged. “Don’t get annoyed. I just know your kind. You sure you don’t want me to pay for dinner?”

  “Positive.” Alec fought back his annoyance. “So what’s this career?”

  Dennie looked wary suddenly. “You wouldn’t be interested. The important thing is, your aunt can help me. Please notice that I’m being very upfront here. I want you to introduce me to your aunt and tell her I’m a wonderful person.”

  “Why?” Alec said warily.

  “Because I want to talk to her. All I need is for you to tell her that I’m clean, brave, and reverent, and convince her to talk to me. I’ll do the rest.”

  Alec sat back. “What do you want from her?”

  Dennie shook her head. “That’s confidential. I’d tell you, but it’s not my secret.”

  She blotted some salad dressing from her lips, and Alec repressed his instincts. They were great lips, but it looked more and more as though he wouldn’t be getting access to them because he’d be arresting her, so he tried to ignore them and concentrate on what she was saying.

  “So will you do it?” she asked.

  “What?” Alec said.

  Dennie closed her eyes in pain. “Introduce me to your aunt, dummy. Why are you acting like this?”

  “Like what?” Alec said.

  “Like you’re a moron,” Dennie said. “Is this some kind of weird pickup thing you do that attracts women? Because I’ve got to tell you, I like you smart and sassy a lot better.”

  “Sassy?” Alec said. “Me?”

  “Forget it,” Dennie said. “Concentrate on your aunt. When can I meet her?”

  “You know, I wasn’t expecting you to be this pushy,” Alec said. “You’re not what I was expecting at all.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “Well, I was hoping for easy.”

  Dennie nodded. “That’s right. You thought I was a bimbo. We already did this.”

  Alec looked hopeful. “You walk like a bimbo.”

  “I do not.” Dennie leaned back in her chair and looked at him with critical eyes. “But you do.”

  “I do not.”

  “Yeah, you do. All shoulders. Big man in town. You come on like a flashlight. You should have ‘Eveready’ printed on your forehead.”

  Alec raised his eyebrows. “And that sway you left the bar with today was professional? Jaws were dropping all around you.”

  “Look, I have hips. They move.”

  “They certainly do. And I wouldn’t dream of criticizing them if you hadn’t made fun of my shoulders.”

  “I wasn’t making fun.” Dennie batted her eyes at him. “They’re wonderful shoulders. Shoulders to die for. Shoulders that beg to be wept on. Shoulders—”

  “Thank you, that will do,” Alec said. “I may make you pay for dinner after all.”

  “Forget it.” Dennie eyed the steaming platter that the waiter put in front of her. “Fighting with you has given me an appetite. I want dessert too.” She looked up sharply as Alec opened his mouth. “Do not say anything juvenile about what you can give me for dessert.”

  “Juvenile?” Alec looked up at the waiter. “Is there anything about me that strikes you as juvenile?”

  “No, sir,” the waiter said.

  “Now ask me,” Dennie said.

  “Don’t,” Alec said.

  “So, about your aunt,” Dennie began again.

  Alec closed his eyes. This was what he wanted, Dennie making a move on Victoria. It would have been really bad if she’d made a move on him instead. They’d never nail her for fraud if all she did was seduce him. He opened his eyes. “Are you sure you’re giving up sex?”

  “Positive,” Dennie said. “When can I meet your aunt?”

  Across the room, Victoria was having her own trauma.

  “Well, this is certainly pleasant,” Donald Compton said, beaming at her across the snowy linen of the tablecloth.

  Pleasant, Victoria thought. I’m sixty-two years old. Screw pleasant. I want exciting.

  Donald consulted with the waiter on the wine list. He looked wonderful consulting with the waiter. Handsome, distinguished, debonair. They made a nice couple, Donald and the waiter. Maybe she should leave them alone. After all, Donald and the waiter had so much more in common than Donald and she did.

  Donald and she. Ugly little phrase. She speculated aimlessly about a future with Donald. Donald and she would buy property on the Cape; the exclusive section, of course. Donald and she would vacation in Belize; he’d want someplace not spoiled by the tourist trade. Donald and she would drive a Mercedes; it would be the only car that didn’t clash with his Rolex.

  Donald and she, Victoria decided, were doomed as a couple. He hadn’t even cracked the wine, and already she was making fun of him.

  Donald turned back to her and toasted her with his glass. It was full. He and the waiter must have achieved climax while she was daydreaming.

  “To you,” he said. “You look elegant.”

  Elegant. Wonderful. “You too.” She raised her glass to him and then looked past him and saw Alec. He was leaning toward a brunette, but all Victoria could see of the woman was the back of a head full of glossy dark curls. Alec smiled, and Victoria thought, How can she resist him? He has the family charm.

  “Victoria?”

  “Hmmm?” Victoria looked at her glass, still in midair. “Oh, yes. To both of us. Elegant. Absolutely.” She drank her wine and remembered what Janice had said about risking. The only thing she was risking by being with Donald Compton was death from boredom.

  Donald began to tell her about a wonderful real estate investment a man he’d met in the bar that afternoon had told him about. Victoria began to tune him out and then remembered what Alec had said.

  “What’s this man’s name?” she asked. “Tell me all about him.”