"Sorry" he said, grinning sheepishly "You know I'd really rath-"

"Go." Smiling, I placed two palms on his chest and shoved him gently. "I'll see you tomorrow night. Seven-thirty"

"Think about me," he said, as he turned and headed down the hall.

When he'd gone I went back to the sushi, definitely thinking about Andrew Ryan.

Ryan is SQ, a homicide detective, and occasionally we work the same cases. Though he'd been asking for years, only recently had I started seeing him socially It had taken some self-persuasion, but I'd come around to his point of view Technically, we didn't work together, so my "no office romance rule" didn't apply unless I wanted it to.

Nevertheless, the arrangement made me edgy After twenty years of marriage, and several as a not-so-swinging single, new relationships just weren't that easy for me. But I enjoyed Ryan's company, so I'd decided to give it a whirl. To "date" him, as my sister would say.

Oh, God. Dating.

I had to admit that I found Ryan sexy as hell. Most women did. Wherever we went, I'd notice female eyes checking him out. Wondering, no doubt.

I was wondering, too. But at the moment that ship was still in port, the engines stoked and ready to go. The Jell-O knees had just reconfirmed that. Dinner out was definitely a better idea.

The phone rang as I was clearing the table.

"Mon Dieu, you're back." Deep, throaty English with a heavy French accent.

"Hi, Lsabelle. What's up?"

Though I'd known Isabelle Caillé only two years, in that time we'd grown quite close. We'd met during a difficult time in my life. In the space of one bleak summer I was targeted by a violent psychopath, my best friend was murdered, and I was finally forced to face the reality of a failed marriage. In a display of self-indulgence, I had booked a single at a Club Med, and flown off to play tennis and overeat.