He dropped his pen, rolled back in his chair, and came around the desk in a second.

After a few minutes, I said, “We should either lock the door or postpone this until tonight.”

Martin glanced at his watch. “I guess it’ll have to be tonight,” he said with an effort. “I should have an appointment sitting out in the reception area by now. Mrs. Sands is probably wondering what to do. However-I don’t mind keeping him waiting…”

“No,” I said, trying not to giggle. “I have to confess, it makes me feel a little self-conscious knowing Mrs. Sands is sitting out there. Tonight, then?”

“We’ll go out to eat,” he said. “I know you won’t feel like cooking, and I won’t get through here until seven, so I won’t have time.”

Martin’s cooking is limited to grilling steaks, but he never minds doing it.

“See you then,” I whispered, giving him one last kiss.

He tried to pull me back, but I wiggled away and grinned over my shoulder at him as I left the room.

“Bye, Mrs. Sands,” I said in what I hoped was a collected voice. It probably would have been more effective if I hadn’t suddenly realized my blouse wasn’t tucked into my skirt any longer. I scooted across the room quickly, catching just a glimpse of the dark-complected man waiting to see Martin; a man with a heavy, piratical mustache, thick black hair, and ropelike arm muscles. He looked more like a nightclub bouncer than a job applicant.

I called my mother from the townhouse to tell her I was home, and learned what had happened in town in the few days I was gone.

“Thanks for the flowers, Aurora. I don’t know what the occasion was, but they were lovely.”

I started. I’d forgotten all about sending the flowers from Ohio. I mumbled something deprecating.

“Have you seen Martin yet?” Mother was asking. She sounded as if the question were loaded. I could see her at her desk at Select Realty, thin and elegant and self-possessed, remarkably like Lauren Bacall.