Too bad this wasn't a social occasion, he mused. At least then, maybe the starched shirt would have paid off in the end. Though there were bound to be more than a few beautiful women at the fund-raiser tonight, Brian was attending the party for business reasons. And he never mixed business with pleasure.

"Look at you."

He glanced to the left and saw Taneesha Gregory leaning over the wall of one of the cubicles, her smile wide, her dark eyes bright with humor. Taneesha was his favorite cameraman-or camera goddess as she preferred to call herself. Shameless and fearless, she often had to muscle her way through a crowd of male news photographers to get the best shot, shoving her camera into a person's face to catch the nuances of their reaction to a question. When it came to a hard-hitting investigative piece, Taneesha was the person Brian wanted to be there to get the shot.

"Don't even start," he warned, wagging his finger at her.

"You da bomb," she said, laughing and clapping her hands. She came around the cubicle, then reached up and straightened his bow tie. "But I think a tux is a little over the top for a weekend anchor. I hear you're doing the eleven o'clock news tomorrow night."

"Yeah. But the tux isn't for that. I'm working on a story."

"I hope you don't need me for this story. Because you know I don't wear a-"

"Dress," Brian finished. "Yes. I know. The last time you wore a dress was your wedding."

"That's right," she said, brushing a speck of lint off his shoulder. "And I promised Ronald that I'd wear a dress on our silver wedding anniversary. That's still eleven years off."

"Don't worry," Brian assured her. "Tonight I'm just checking out a lead. Richard Patterson, our sleazy neighborhood real estate developer is hosting a fundraiser tonight. And I'm going to crash the party and get a look at his guests."