It was better just to stop thinking about her. Or at least not get confused, keep it in the realm of fantasy. It wasn't as if he knew anything about her, as if there could be real attraction.

In fact, if that turned out to be the case, it would be far more complicated. Then what? Leave Sheila…?

No, it was better not to pursue it at all. He was just in one of his funks, believing that the opportunity that would give his life new meaning was passing him by.

He knew better. In reality, everything disappointed. Nothing turned out as you hoped.

He'd just suck it up and put her out of his mind, do nothing about the fantasy. He didn't even want to take one step, because who knew where that could lead? He'd forget all about her. He wasn't going to do anything.

It was stupid to consider.

Joe Avery looked up from the clutter of paper littering his desk, a legal brief which was already anything but brief. 'Sir?'

Dooher, the friendliest boss on the planet, was in the doorway, one hand extended up to the sill, the other on his belt, coat open, sincere smile. 'A Mardi Gras party. Feast before fast. Unless you've got other plans…'

'Well, I…'

'You'll enjoy it. Sheila and I do it every year. Just casual, no costumes, masks, taking to the streets afterwards, none of that. And pretty good food if you like Cajun. Anyway, eight o'clock, if you're free.'

Avery was young and gung-ho and hadn't spoken to Dooher more than a hundred times in his six years with the firm, had never spent any time with him socially. His mouth hung open in surprise at the invitation, but he was nodding, already planning to be there, wondering what was happening.

Dooher was going on. 'If you've got other plans, don't worry about it, but you've paid your dues around here – you're up for shareholder this year if I'm not mistaken?'