And at the same time she had to keep up talking, because dead air is murder. She would just have to control her own urges.

But Sally Sue, even as she rapped out the yak-yak, was reading what the man had written on his business card, the front of which said his name was Harold Boothby and that he was a sales rep for a major auto supply firm.

"Back in 2 weeks. Dinner, drinks and whatever?"

Sally Sue found herself nodding acceptance, even knowing what the "whatever" meant. She wished, even as she kept up her mike chatter, that she could level with the guy, tell him she would not go to bed with him because she was afraid of being hurt again, even though she yearned so much for a man. Well, she rationalized, if he does show up, I can tell him then how I am before he spends any money on me… all hung up!

Why do men have to be so cruel?

Why had Bob, who was so good in the beginning, dumped her and run off with a fat old bag? Well, the "fat old bag" happened to have millions of dollars, and Bob had never liked working for a living anyway. Through their brief marriage, it was Sally Sue who paid the bills while tall handsome Bob demanded the best steak and artichoke hearts and whatever else was outrageously expensive, talking of the big deals he would make.

Well, he'd made one big deal with a fat old bag, and that was over and done with, Sally Sue was almost happy to support her private zoo rather than her ex-husband. She had a successful radio show, made occasional appearances on television, and these days didn't know what a bill collector looked like.

But the experience had shattered the lovely, long-legged girl with blue-black hair and pouting mouth that was made for love. Desperately she sought a job to kill time and the eroding loneliness. An orphan, she had been raised in the strict confines of a convent school on charity. Morals had been drilled into her head virtually from birth, and she had never given her body to anyone but the husband who had deserted her.