Kitabı oku: «A Compromising Affair», sayfa 2

“Right,” Judson added, “and we’re lucky that our wives have become very good friends and don’t mind the resemblance.”

“The first time I saw Judson, I nearly went into shock,” Pamela said. “It took some getting used to.”

Scott observed Adelle surreptitiously. He could have sworn she seemed to salivate, but whether it was because of him or Drake Harrington, he wasn’t sure. Telford Harrington and his brother Russ arrived together, along with their wives, Alexis and Velma, who were sisters. Immediately Velma began entertaining them with her stories, and Scott leaned back in his chair, sipping piña coladas, listening to the various conversations and enjoying the good company. Like a long-lost son, Scott felt that he had come home to surroundings of warmth and love. Adelle Smith was out of her element, and her obvious discomfort showed it.

By ten-thirty, Scott felt a bit jet-lagged. He told his hosts he was tired and went to his room. He would have preferred to continue the conversation, which he had greatly enjoyed, but he reasoned that Adelle wouldn’t have the nerve to follow him up the stairs in such an obvious ploy. He locked the door, and thought to himself, Safe for at least one night.

The next morning, he called Judson on his cell phone. “Say, man, what time is breakfast and who’s up?”

Laughter seemed to roar out of Judson’s mouth. “I had almost forgotten that you were so blunt. The reason for running off last night was obvious. But if you’re hungry, why give a damn who’s up?”

“Why, indeed? I like my breakfast in peace. I don’t know, though. Something tells me that if Drake’s around, I won’t have a problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her mouth looked like it was watering once he arrived.”

He didn’t need the phone to hear Judson’s laughter. “Come on downstairs, man. Rosa made a fantastic breakfast.”

Scott dressed for dinner that evening, since he assumed he’d be expected to drive Adelle home to Baltimore. It would also give him the opportunity to let her know in no uncertain terms that he was not interested in her.

“If you give me the keys to your Mercedes, I’ll drive Adelle back to Baltimore,” Scott said to Judson, in a quiet moment away from the rest of the guests, when they gathered for predinner drinks.

Judson’s eyebrows shot up. “You sure you want to do that?”

“It’s the best chance to disabuse her of any notion she has about me. It’ll take me no longer than the half hour or so that it takes me to drive there and back.”

A grin flashed across Judson’s face. “That time as a bigwig didn’t change you one bit. Glad to see it.” He reached into his trouser pockets, took out two sets of keys and handed the smaller one to Scott. “This is the house key and this is the car key.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

After dinner, he tired of waiting for Adelle to announce that she was leaving, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. “Adelle, if you’re going to Baltimore tonight, I’ll be glad to drive you, but we’ll need to leave now.” He felt the tiniest inkling of guilt when he saw her face break out in the warmest smile he’d witnessed, but he quickly shook it off.

He managed to avoid saying anything personal during the drive to Baltimore. The conversation had been amicable by the time they arrived at her condominium, in what was obviously an upscale neighborhood.

“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked him, when he opened the car door for her. He stood back and extended his hand for a handshake, leaving her clearly aghast.

He shook his head. “To do that would send you the wrong message. I’m not interested, Adelle, and I do not mislead women. Good night.” He left her standing in front of her apartment building, walked back to the driver’s side of the car and got in. When she didn’t move, he started the car to let her know that he wasn’t joking. Only then did she turn and enter the building. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t think of being that rude, but he hadn’t met many women like Adelle. He hoped that Pamela Harrington was an observant woman, and that she’d noticed the look in Adelle’s eyes as she ogled Pamela’s husband, Drake.

“We’re having a barbecue this afternoon,” Heather told Scott at breakfast the next morning, “and all the Harringtons will be here.”

“What about Tara? And Henry? Is he coming?”

“Indeed, he is. Henry is the same,” she said. “He’s just as spry and his tongue is as tart as ever. I can’t think of life without Henry.”

Later that morning, Scott took his swim trunks and walked over to Telford’s house. Henry opened the door for him, and he clasped the frail man in a big hug. “If you gripped me any tighter,” Henry said, “I’d think you were one of those snakes that squeezes the life out of things before devouring them. Thanks for leaving my old bones intact. You look great, and I been expectin’ to see you.”

“You’re the one who looks good. You don’t think I’d come to Eagle Park and leave without seeing you, do you?”

“Some people manage to, and in most cases, I’m glad they do.”

“Where’s Tara? She must be a big girl by now.”

“She’s nine and as sweet as she ever was. Tel took her to her piano lessons. You want coffee and something to go with it?”

“Actually, I’d like to take a swim in the pool. I know it’s still a bit cool for that, but I got used to swimming in water that was barely tepid.”

“Looks like it did you good. You’re bigger, but ya ain’t fat.”

He patted Henry’s shoulder. “I can’t afford to get fat, Henry. I’d have to buy all new clothes.”

Alexis swept into the kitchen. “Scott. I thought I heard someone talking, and Henry definitely doesn’t talk to himself. How are you this morning?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and he didn’t have to guess why. “I hope you got back safely last night, and in good time.” He stared at her for a minute. She didn’t back down, giving the private joke free rein.

“A guy does what he has to do,” Scott said, playing along. “Is the pool open?”

“Russ opened it up a few weeks back when we had a hot spell. You’re welcome to swim as often as you like.”

“Thanks. In Vilnius I got in the habit of swimming every day, and I miss it already.”

Scott swam a few laps, and then hiked along the Monocacy River. As he walked along the trails, he wished he had a fishing rod and tackle. A profusion of spring flowers—jonquil, wild roses, lotus, morning glory, forsythia, dandelions and other wildflowers—greeted him as he strolled along the riverbank. Squirrels scampered up and down trees and across his path, ignoring him. He loved being alone in such a beautiful, natural environment. But at the moment, he longed for the company of a woman whom he deeply cared for. He made his way back to the Harrington estate, which Telford and his family occupied, and found Henry picking roses that grew beside the house.

“I never paid any attention to these here flowers,” Henry said, “’til Alexis came. She loves for the place to be pretty and elegant. But these here early roses got thorns, so I pick ’em to keep her from getting pricked.”

“You’re a gentleman, Henry. See you at the barbecue.”

Scott returned to Judson’s house, and after showering and changing into a yellow polo shirt and white jeans, he went to the kitchen to find Rosa. “You’ve got a crowd coming,” he said to her. “What can I do to help?”

She looked at him with adoring eyes, since he had become her favorite houseguest. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask you, but, Mr. Ambassador, I think the food should be covered. Can you cover the food with this cotton canvas? The heat from the food will melt plastic wrap, so I bought canvas.”

He took the canvas cloth from her. “For you, anything, Rosa. You’ve helped make my visit a really wonderful experience.” As she melted, he left the kitchen grinning.

“The old boy hasn’t lost his touch,” he said to himself.

Pamela and Drake arrived first. Scott was leaning against a tree, with the sole of his left foot flat against the tree trunk, when he looked up and saw her walking between the couple. Now, there was a woman with grace, charm, dignity, a good measure of femininity in all the right places and beauty to boot. He straightened up, but he stayed where he was. He’d seen that woman somewhere before. But where? Who was she?

As they approached, he went to greet them. “Pamela, Drake,” he said. “How are you?”

“Great,” they said in unison.

“Scott Galloway, this is Denise Miller, my best friend since crib days,” Pamela said.

“I’m glad to meet you,” he said earnestly.

“Me, too, Scott,” Denise said. “Pamela said you just returned from Lithuania. Are you glad to be home?”

“I’m happy to be with my friends, to have a steady supply of fresh produce and to soak up the sun,” he said.

“I haven’t been home yet because my place isn’t ready and my belongings haven’t arrived from Lithuania.” He fell into step with them as they headed toward the back patio and the barbecue.

“Is that what you missed most?” she asked.

Those were the only things he missed that he could talk about. “I missed other things, too—mainly opportunities to be just plain old Scott Galloway.”

Drake walked over toward them, munching on a chicken leg. Scott appreciated—and not for the first time—that he was six feet four inches tall, and equal to Drake and his brothers in stature. Drake dwarfed most men in looks and physique, but not him. And he hoped Denise Miller was well aware of that.

“How’s that barbecue?” he asked Drake, in an effort to stall for time by involving him in conversation. He was interested in Denise Miller, but wanted to go slowly, at least until he figured out why he was so sure he knew her from someplace.

Drake laughed. “It’s a delicious barbecue chicken leg. But if you’re not a leg man, the breasts look pretty good, too.”

“I think I’ll do my own investigation,” Denise said, and left the two of them to enjoy Drake’s joke.

Scott eyed Drake. “Is she annoyed?”

“No, but she’d rather I hadn’t said that. Seems she’d prefer to make a good impression on you, and that surprises me.”

“She didn’t seem particularly interested. Why are you surprised at her wanting to make a good impression?”

“Denise is not easily impressed, but you caught her eye before we saw you. And the closer we got, the more she liked what she saw. Trust me, man, I’m right.”

“She was interesting from afar, but the closer she got, the more interesting she became. Trust me.” They both laughed.

“This is a magnificent house, Drake. Judson said that you and your brothers built it. Russ is a heck of an architect,” said Scott.

“He is that, and his designs are becoming more creative. But, as an engineer, I appreciate his work even more.”

“If I ever build a house, I hope you brothers are still in the business.”

“Unless you plan to build it when you’re ready to retire, I don’t think you have much to worry about.”

“Thanks for the assurance, man. But it’s time I got my act together.”

“Yeah,” Drake said. “I thought I had to wait until I got my life exactly the way I wanted it, but Pamela’s clock was ticking, and she let me know it. I realized that I didn’t have to be a nationally recognized engineer in order to be happy. But I needed her for that.”

“I don’t regret the choices I’ve made, Drake,” said Scott. “I regret the sacrifices.”

“As long as you’re ready to deal with a relationship, it’s never too late.”

In those few minutes, Scott realized that of the Harrington brothers, Drake was his favorite. The man gave the appearance of being a corporate executive, but he was a down-to-earth guy who had his priorities in order, and he had a great sense of humor.

“How long have you and Pamela been married?”

“Close to two wonderful years. Smartest thing I ever did. Marriage is good. Try it,” he said with a grin.

“You’ll like it.”

“I hope so. I don’t have anyone in mind, but after two years in Vilnius without a companion, my antenna is up.”

Drake seemed to contemplate the statement. “I can’t imagine that that was easy. There must have been plenty of times you were lonely or just needed someone to talk to, and didn’t have anyone with whom to share your problems. It had to be troubling.”

“You nailed it on the head, Drake. In spite of all the people around to do whatever I said or asked, it was a lonely life.”

“You two seem to be hitting it off,” Heather said, as she approached them. “I brought you some lemonade. If you want anything stronger, it’s over there in that large wooden tub.”

“Thanks,” Scott said. “Where’d you get that wooden tub?”

“My dad got it from his grandmother,” said Heather.

“You must have made quite an impression on Denise. She’s asking questions about you.”

Scott sipped his lemonade. “Really? Tell her I’m perfect,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. He couldn’t understand Drake’s sudden fit of laughter.

“I wonder if I was that scared of getting what I wanted,” Drake said, amused by Scott’s expression.

“As I look back, I realize how lucky I really was that Pamela ignored my foolishness.” He looked at Scott. “I met Adelle Smith and she isn’t in Denise Miller’s league by a long shot.”

“I get your message loud and clear,” added Scott.

Telford and Russ arrived along with their families.

“Excuse me,” Scott said to Drake and Heather when he saw Tara.

“You’ve gotten taller in the eighteen months since I last saw you,” Scott said to Tara with a wide smile. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Galloway. I’m going to finish the school year with straight As.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re as smart as you are pretty.” He looked at Telford, Tara’s stepfather, whose pride in his daughter shone in his eyes. “Tara is the most compelling advertisement for marriage that I can think of.”

“Thank you,” Telford said. “She’s always a delight.”

“What do they mean, Mummy?”

“Mr. Scott was congratulating your daddy on raising you properly.”

“Oh. I thought he said I was lovely.”

Scott suppressed a laugh. Tara was only nine years old, but already she was mature beyond her years.

The four of them walked around to the patio, where the barbecue grill, food and drinks were set up.

“It’s about time you got here,” Judson said. “Pamela and I want to eat. We’ve got pulled pork, barbecue chicken and baby back ribs, grilled new potatoes, zucchini, onions, asparagus and a green salad. Beer, wine and chilled vodka are over there.” He pointed to a shaded area. “Everybody for themselves.”

“Don’t we have to say grace, Uncle Judson?” Tara asked.

“Yes, we do,” Russ said. “I’ll say it. By the time you finish it, we’ll be ready to eat Christmas dinner.”

Tara giggled. “Mr. Scott, my uncle Russ doesn’t like the way I say grace. It really freaks him out.”

Scott noticed that Denise remained on the fringe of the group. He got two empty plates, forks and napkins, and went over to her and handed her one of each.

“I’m hungry, and I haven’t had any good barbecue in a couple of years. Will you join me?”

“Thanks. I was just waiting for everyone to start. Why has it been two years?”

“I’ve been in Vilnius, Lithuania. I only returned for Judson and Heather’s wedding, but I was in the States less than seventy-two hours. I was Judson’s best man.”

Denise appeared reflective for a moment. “So you’re close friends,” she said.

“Very much so, since I was five years old. He’s closer to me than my real brothers.”

“Really?”

“We went from kindergarten through college and law school together.” He took a pair of tongs and put some pulled pork on her plate. “Want some chicken or ribs?”

“Ribs. I love ribs, though I have to use yards of dental floss after I eat them. Where do you live, Scott?”

“Right now, I’m staying at the Willard in Washington. But my belongings should arrive from Vilnius next week. Then, I’ll either move into my condo in Baltimore or sell it and move to Washington, where I work.”

She accepted the plate of pulled pork, ribs and vegetables. “Thank you. I imagine you must have mixed feelings about moving.”

“Of course. I’ll hate not being close to my grandmother. She’s getting older.”

“Do you have family other than your brothers and your grandmother?”

“There’s my father. My grandmother helped him raise us after our mother died in a car crash almost twenty years ago. She’s very dear to me. Where do you live, Denise?” Scott said, deciding that it was time to move the focus to her.

“I have a house in Frederick and an apartment in Washington, and I divide my time between the two places.”

He could see that she was deftly avoiding any details, at least about herself, so he decided to be more direct. “I work for the State Department, Denise. What do you do?”

“I know you’re an ambassador, Scott. I’m a—a fundraiser.” Her brow creased in a frown. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Actually, I do. I believe I met you at a party, but I’m having trouble remembering which one.”

She lowered her gaze. “Don’t you remember seeing me at the party Judson gave for you when you were leaving for Lithuania? We weren’t introduced, but that’s where we met.”

He hoped that his eagerness and excitement in preparing for his diplomatic assignment explained what must have been a testosterone malfunction. “That send-off and having everyone address me as ‘Mr. Ambassador’ nearly overwhelmed me. Something about that party seems to nag at me, though.” He shrugged his shoulder. “My preference is for the simple life. So Denise, do you work in Washington?” he said, quickly changing the subject.

A slight smile didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “I love politics, but not that much.”

He wondered at her seeming reluctance to tell him where she worked. “As long as you raise money for good causes, I’d say that’s a good thing.” If she didn’t want to open up, he’d find out what he wanted to know some other way.

“Where do your folks live, Denise?” he said, figuring the innocuous question would help continue their conversation. He had to get used to her name, since he wasn’t sure that it really suited her. She had an almost aristocratic air about her that he didn’t especially like, and women like that weren’t usually named Denise, but rather something like Caroline, Amanda or Allison.

Maybe he’d been away from African-American women too long. He told himself to stop trying to figure her out, that if she was interested in him, she’d open up.

She hadn’t answered him, so he decided to change tactics.

“Would you have dinner with me?” he said.

She looked him in the eye. “When did you have in mind?”

The heat from her fiery brown eyes seared through him. But if she could eyeball him, he could certainly do the same. “Friday, and as many times as you’d like thereafter.”

“You’re a bold man.”

He gave a quick shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t remember ever getting anything or anywhere in life by being timid, Denise. It’s not my style.”

“I certainly never imagined you were a man who passively accepted whatever circumstances he encountered,” she replied candidly.

He stared at her, mulling over the situation. “Where will you be next Friday between five-thirty and seven?” She gave him her address in Frederick, Maryland. “I’ll be there at six-thirty in jacket and tie.” The brilliant smile that covered her face surged through him like an electrical charge. The woman was beautiful.

“I’m looking forward to Friday.”

“So am I,” he said truthfully, while hoping and praying that he wasn’t shooting himself in the foot.

Chapter 2

Denise brushed her long, silky black hair until it shimmered. She curled it, brushed out the curls and let them fall softly around her shoulders. “At least it’s mine and not a weave,” she said to herself with a note of pride. She had inherited both her hair and her dark complexion from her maternal grandmother, who was a Shinnecock. Her father’s family had been mixed since slavery.

She didn’t want to overdress, but she wanted to look good. Scott Galloway was a strikingly handsome man, and she wanted to make an impression. When she’d looked into those dreamy grayish-brown eyes, half-hidden by long lashes that curled slightly at the ends, she’d felt as if a bolt of lightning had shot through her body. Leaning against a tree as if he didn’t have a care in the world, he’d taken her breath away. But she didn’t believe for one minute that he was as nonchalant as he appeared. The first time she’d met him, two years ago at a reception, they’d been sitting near each other at a round table. She couldn’t see much more than his profile. And he’d been so thoroughly peeved with her that he barely spared her a glance, or so it seemed.

She had always been attracted to very dark-skinned men. But Scott’s complexion, which was the color of shelled walnuts, gave him a polished, masculine look that got to her. And what a physique!

“Get your head on straight, sister,” she told herself.

“Those looks don’t mean a thing if that’s all there is to him.”

The thought amused her. Of course, he was a man of substance and, she imagined, had plenty of it. He seemed to have it all. Nevertheless, she wondered what his Achilles’ heel was. She had yet to meet a man who didn’t have one.

When the doorbell rang, she was wearing a short silk chiffon dinner dress that was a goldenrod color with insets that began where the hip stopped, and a rounded bodice that revealed no cleavage. Diamond stud earrings, black patent-leather pumps, a black silk purse and a dab of perfume completed her attire.

“How do I look, Priscilla?” she asked her housekeeper. Priscilla Mallory lived in Frederick, Maryland, but she commuted to D.C. when Denise was staying in Washington.

“Like you ever look anything but great. If he isn’t blind, he’s gonna be when he sees you in that getup. Real sweet, ma’am.”

Denise opened the door and thanked God for self-control.

“Hi. You’re punctual. I like that,” he said as he handed her a dozen yellow roses.

“Hi. You’re both punctual and a gentleman. Thank you. You chose the right color roses. I love yellow, and I adore yellow roses. Have a seat in the living room while I put these in a vase.”

She headed for the kitchen to find a vase. Decked out in a khaki-colored suit, a light shirt and burnt-orange tie, Scott Galloway was something to look at. “Go into the living room, Priscilla, and introduce yourself to Ambassador Scott Galloway,” Denise said to her housekeeper.

Priscilla’s eyes bulged and her lower jaw sagged. “Yes, ma’am. Yes, indeedy.”

Now, when did that happen? thought Denise. She entered the living room in time to see Priscilla putting a tray with two glasses of white wine and cheese sticks on the coffee table in front of Scott, who stood and extended his hand to shake hers.

“Ambassador Galloway, this is Mrs. Priscilla Mallory. She keeps thing in order around here.”

“I’m her housekeeper, Mr. Ambassador, and I take care of her like she was my own child.”

“I’m delighted to meet you, Mrs. Mallory. Thank you for the wine and cheese sticks. If you have any club soda, I’d like to add it to my wine. I’m driving.”

“Oh. You want a spritzer?” Priscilla asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

Denise hadn’t planned for them to spend time alone at her house, but it wasn’t a bad idea. She had learned more about Scott since he’d come through the door than in all the time she’d spent with him the previous Sunday at Judson and Heather’s barbecue. Good manners and a lack of ego came naturally to him, she surmised. She sat beside him and lifted her glass.

“Welcome to my home, Scott. Do you like these?” She pointed to the cheese sticks. “Priscilla makes them, and the house would be full of them if I encouraged her.”

“I love these things. I used to buy them at Dean & DeLuca. These are the first I’ve had since I got back. Mrs. Mallory must have some special recipe.”

“I’ll tell her you enjoyed them”

“We ought to leave soon. Our reservation is for seven-thirty, and we are driving to Washington. It took me about forty minutes to get here. Do you mind if I tell Mrs. Mallory good-night?”

“Of course not.”

He headed for the kitchen. “Thank you for these wonderful cheese sticks, Mrs. Mallory. I’ve always loved them. Good evening.”

“You’re welcome, and you come back soon. I’ve always got plenty of cheese sticks baked nice and fresh.”

As if he had always done so, he grabbed Denise’s hand and they left. “When did you have time to buy a car?” she asked him as he opened the door to a new luxury car

“I’m leasing it, but I’ll probably end up buying it after I settle in. I’ve decided to live in Washington and avoid that daily commute that I had when I lived in Baltimore.”

“Have you found a place yet?”

“Not yet. I have three or four places to check out.”

By the time they reached Washington, he knew she liked classic jazz—the Louis Armstrong–Duke Ellington variety. She loved Mozart and disliked Wagner. She adored Italian Renaissance art, disliked contemporary art and loved Aretha Franklin and Luther Vandross.

“I’d like a duplex apartment,” Scott said, “because I like the idea of having separate levels for entertaining and my bedroom and private quarters.”

“You don’t want a house?” she asked.

“No. I’d have to hire a live-in housekeeper to maintain the place, and I don’t want that.”

At the restaurant, the maître d’ seated them and beckoned the sommelier. She and Scott decided not to order cocktails.

“We’ll choose the wine after we order our meal,” Scott said to the sommelier. They both ordered the arugula salad, shrimp diablo, saffron rice and spinach. And for dessert, they ordered raspberries with kirsch and ice cream.

“Did you order this because I did?” he asked her.

“No. As a matter of fact, I order this every time I come here. It’s one of my favorite restaurants.”

Scott’s eyebrow arched a bit at her comment, and she wondered what his reaction was to her preference in restaurants. She appreciated that he didn’t probe, and the more she got to know him, the more she liked him.

Scott looked at the woman seated across from him. She had the elegance of a finely tuned Stradivarius, but she was, nonetheless, very approachable. He wondered how much of the latter was real and how much was for effect. They had much more in common than he would have imagined, and he found himself wanting to know her better. But something held him back, and it puzzled him. Always a man to keep his own counsel, he let his instincts guide him.

“Where did you grow up?” he asked her, opting for a safe topic of conversation.

“Waverly, Texas. My father’s folks have been Texans for generations, one of the first families of African-American ranchers in the state.”

“Ranchers? And did you attend one of the exclusive Seven Sisters colleges?”

“What an interesting question,” Denise said, genuinely surprised. “My parents wanted me to go to Bryn Mawr, but when I found out the ratio of female to male students, I balked and went to Princeton.”

He leaned forward and hoped that his anxiety didn’t show. “How’d that work out?”

“That’s where I developed my intolerance for snobs.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “Did you fall in love with or marry any of them?”

“No to both. But while I was getting my degree, I had a great time.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me? I can imagine that whatever the ratio of men to women at Princeton, you probably had your pick.”

She lowered her gaze. “You’re too kind.”

Sarcasm or humility? He wasn’t certain which. The waiter brought their food, saving him the need to reply.

“You’re driving, and I know you don’t want to drink,” she said thoughtfully when Scott offered to order a bottle of wine. “I wouldn’t enjoy it if you couldn’t have any. By the way,” Denise said, changing the subject, “I belong to a group that’s putting on a big fundraiser in Philadelphia, and Velma Harrington is catering it. She’s incredible.”

“Yes,” he said, as something played around in the back of his mind. He knew it was important, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

They eventually finished the meal with espresso, and as they left the restaurant, he tried to remember what her mention of Velma Harrington had triggered. He shook his head in frustration.

During the drive back to Frederick, she hummed along with the songs that played on the radio. She didn’t seem compelled to fill the time with idle talk, for which he was grateful. He had very little patience for meaningless chatter. He also liked the fact that, during the entire evening, she hadn’t once tried to flaunt her sex appeal. And he especially appreciated that the neckline of her dress wasn’t an advertisement for the milk industry.

He hated having to spend an evening with his mouth watering over a woman’s cleavage. Usually if he liked her, he was tempted to hurry the evening along so that he could indulge. If he didn’t like her, it invariably annoyed him.

He parked in front of the large brick house that she called home and walked her to the door. “May I have your key?” he asked. She handed it to him and stepped aside while he opened the door.

“Would you like me to see if everything is okay?” he asked her.

Her eyes widened. “Why, yes. Thank you,” she said calmly.

He walked in, closed the door, locked it and handed her the key. “Stay here,” he said.

It was a good-size house. Upstairs, he checked two bedrooms, a large office and three bathrooms, one of which had a big Jacuzzi and what seemed like endless closet space. He walked through the living, dining and breakfast rooms, then the kitchen and pantry, which revealed no surprises. He returned to the foyer and saw that she stood precisely where he had left her.

“Do you have a basement?”