"You're right. On the other hand...we do have to eat." His gaze swept down my body. "And you're too pretty to stay home tonight." He settled a hand at the small of my back, pressed gently. "Let's get out of here."

His car was parked in the front drive. It was typical of Gage to drive a Maybach. It's a car for rich people who don't like to flaunt it, which is why you don't see many Maybachs in Houston. For about three hundred thousand dollars you get an exterior so understated that parking lot attendants rarely put it in the front along with the BMWs or Lexuses. The interior is fitted with glove leather and glossy amboyna hardwood carried out of an Indonesian jungle on the backs of elephants. Not to mention two video screens, two champagne flute holders, and a built-in minirefrigerator designed to hold a split of Cristal. And all of it can go from zero to sixty in less than five seconds.

Gage helped me into the low-slung car and reached in to buckle my seat belt. I relaxed into the seat, breathing in the smell of polished leather and staring at a front dash that resembled the interior of a small aircraft. The Maybach purred as we pulled away from the house.

Driving with one hand. Gage picked something up from the center console. He held up a cell phone and gave me a brief glance. "All right if I make a quick call?"

"Of course."

We went past the front gate. I looked at the mansions we passed, the bright yellow

rectangles of windows, the sight of a couple walking a dog along the quiet street. Just an ordinary night for some people.. .whereas for others, unimaginable things were happening.

Gage speed-dialed a number, and someone picked up the line. He spoke into the phone without even saying hello. "You know, Dad, I just got back from New York two hours ago. I haven't even had time to unpack my luggage. This may be a shocker, but I don't always do things according to your timetable."

A reply from Churchill.

"Yeah," Gage said, "I got that. But I'm warning you—from now on take care of your own damn love life and don't mess with mine." He closed the cell phone with a snap. "Old geezer," he muttered.

"He meddles with everyone," I said, breathless at the implication that I was part of his love life. "It's his way of showing affection."

Gage gave me a sardonic glance. "No kidding."

A thought occurred to me. "Did he know you were going to break up with Dawnelle?"

"Yes, I told him."

Churchill had known, and he hadn't said a word to me. I wanted to kill him. "So that's why he calmed down after he talked to you," I said. "I guess he wasn't a big fan of Dawnelle's."

"I don't think he cared much about Dawnelle one way or the other. But he cares a lot about you."

Delight seemed to be spilling inside me like close-held armful s of fruit that had become too heavy to carry. "Churchill cares about a lot of people," I said in an offhand tone.

"Not really. He's pretty guarded with most people. I take after him that way."

It was dangerous, this temptation to tell him anything, to relax completely in his presence. But the car was a luxurious dark cocoon, and I was steeped in a feeling of intimacy with this man I barely knew.

"He told me about you for years," I said. "And about your brothers and sister. Whenever he visited the salon, he'd give me an update on the family, and it seemed you and he were always in the middle of some kind of argument. But I could tell he was proudest of you. Even when he was complaining about you, it sounded like bragging."

Gage smiled slightly. "He's not usually that talkative."

"You'd be surprised what people say across the manicure table."

He shook his head, his eyes on the road. "Dad is the last man in the world I'd ever expect to go for a manicure. When I first heard about it, I wondered what kind of woman could get him to do such a thing. As you can guess, it caused more than a little speculation in the family."

I knew it mattered too much, what Gage thought of me. "I never asked him for anything," I said, my voice weighted with anxiety. "I never thought of him as a...you know, sugar daddy.. .there were no presents or—"

"Liberty," he interrupted gently, "it's okay. I get it."

"Oh." I let out a long sigh. "Well, I know how it looked."

"I realized right away nothing was going on. I figured any man who slept with you would never let you out of his bed."

Silence.

The deliberately provocative remark split the course of my thoughts into two channels. one of desire, the other profound insecurity. I had seldom, if ever, wanted any man as much as I wanted Gage. But I wasn't going to be enough for him. I wasn't experienced, I had no skills. And during sex I was too easily distracted, I could never block the caprices of a mind that, right in the middle of the action, would summon up worries such as Did I sign Carrington 's form for the school field trip yet? or Is the dry cleaner going to be able to take the coffee stain out of my white blouse? In short, I was bad in bed. And I didn't want this man to find out.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Gage asked, and I knew he meant the kiss.

"About what?" I countered.

He laughed softly. "I guess not." Taking pity, he asked how Carrington was doing in school. Relieved, I told him about the problems my sister was having in math, and the conversation turned to our own memories of school, and soon he was entertaining me with reminiscences of all the trouble he and his brothers had gotten into when they were younger.