To all my grandparents, with love.

Some books are a joy to write. Fluid lines of perfect prose unroll across the computer screen, the plot unfolds without holes or wrinkles, and all the characters go exactly where they're told.

This was not one of those books.

I would like to extend my heartfelt gratitude to all those people who patiently repeated, "Yes, the book will get done. No, your career isn't over," and didn't push me into the Charles River, no matter how much they might have wanted to. Sincere thanks go to both my editors, Laurie and Kara, who were angels of forbearance over missed deadlines and an outline that changed about once a week; to my family, who didn't disown me; to Nancy, Claudia, Liz, Jenny, and Kimberly, who undertook the monumental task of keeping me sane through the long, dark months of struggling with simultaneous law school and book deadlines; to Weatherly, who made sure I got my monthly recommended allowance of alcohol; and to Emily, who went to Globalization so I didn't have to. An extra special thank-you goes to those readers who generously took the time to e-mail with words of praise and encouragement. Those e-mails kept me writing when even caffeine failed. Thank you all, so much.

As for everyone else, I haven't been deliberately avoiding you, honestly. I really have been meaning to return that phone call/e-mail/singing telegram. And I will. I promise. Just as soon as I get started on Pink IV….

 A watched phone never rings.

 At least, my phone wasn't ringing. The same, unfortunately, could not be fsaid of the man sitting in front of me, whose mobile kept shrieking with all the abandon of an inebriated teenager on a roller coaster. Each time his phone shrilled out "Danger Zone" from Top Gun, I lunged for my bag. After a mere ten minutes on the bus, my abs had gotten more of a workout than they had in months.