Could be.

    Jack slipped the photo from his pocket and gave it a quick look.

    Yeah. A definite possibility. Even had the big diamond stud earring. Trouble was, he wore wraparound shades and had his cap pulled down almost to his eyebrows. The Hugh Gerrish in the photo had a wicked widow's peak, but this guy's hat was obscuring his hairline. Jack needed a way to sneak a peek at the peak.

    He hurried over and slipped behind him in the betting line.

    "Rangers fan, huh?"

    The guy turned and looked at him. "You got a problem with that? You gonna give me some Islander shit?"

    The Islanders had just won the Stanley Cup and Ranger fans were not happy.

    Jack smiled. "Hey, easy. I'm a Ranger guy too." Lie. Jack hated hockey. He hated high fives almost as much, but held up his hand for one. "Next year the cup is ours."

    The guy smiled and gave Jack's raised palm a good-natured slap.

    "From your lips to God's ear."

    Jack made a point of staring at his cap. "That's a nice one. Where'd you get it? The Garden?"

    He nodded. "Cost an arm and a leg but worth every penny."

    "Yeah. Nice quality. Wonder who made it. Mind if I see the label?"

    "Sure."

    The guy took it off, revealing a huge widow's peak. Jack couldn't help staring at it.

    Lily, call Herman—we've found Eddie.

    "I thought you wanted to see it."

    Jack shook himself and took the proffered hat, pretended to look at the label, then handed it back.

    "Cool. Thanks. Gotta get me one. You live in the city?"

    A suspicious light sparked in his eyes as he fit the cap back on his head. "Why you wanna know?"

    Jack put on a flustered look. "No particular reason. Just wish I could get into the Garden more. Get me one of those hats."

    The suspicious light faded. "I'm in Jamaica. The train takes me right into Penn."

    "Yeah?" Jack's mind raced. "I'm in Jamaica too. Briarwood, actually. Put everything I had into a tiny two-bedroom ranch nine years ago and am I ever glad."

    Gerrish nodded. "You must be sitting pretty. But, hey. It's just as easy for you to get to the Garden as me."

    Jack shook his head. "Not at night… the wife don't like me going out at night."

    He snorted a laugh. "Been there, done that. That's why she's now my ex-wife."

    They shared a manly heh-heh-heh and then came Gerrish's turn at the window.

    Jack leaned close to listen in, planning to bet the same horse. Gerrish supposedly knew his ponies, and winning would give Jack a chance to reconnect with him at the payout. But a glance over the bird of paradise on his shoulder gave him a shock. No human being at the window. Some sort of cash register sat there instead.

    When did this happen?

    He watched in dismay as Gerrish worked the thing like an accountant on an adding machine, then took the ticket that popped out and started to walk away.

    "Luck to you," Jack said.

    Gerrish didn't turn. "Yeah. Same."

    As Gerrish moved off, Jack stepped up to the machine and studied it for a few seconds. He had no idea what to do, and no time to figure it out, so he faked working it, then walked off in the same general direction as Gerrish.

    Dawn sat chin deep in the hot tub and stared at Henry.

    "You mean you still haven't changed your mind?"

    "It's not a matter of changing my mind, miss. It's simply that I have not been able to reach the Master and do not have permission. I would help if I could but I cannot risk it again. I break out in a sweat just thinking about what could have happened."

    What was it with this guy? Didn't he have any balls?

    Balls… there was a thought. Henry seemed like totally sexless. She never caught him looking at her. Not once.

    What would stiff-and-staid Henry do if she totally came on to him? He looked to be like fifty—like two and a half times her age. But big deal. She'd been living with a pervo twice her age and doing him every night.

    She bit back a surge of acid as her stomach tried to hurl. Don't think about that. You've got that perv's baby inside you and the only way you're going to get rid of it is to get out of this place.

    She could do Henry. If she could do that perv she could do anyone. And it would only be once. She'd let him think it would be a regular thing, but no way.

    How did that phrase go? Quid pro quo? Yeah. She hadn't gotten straight A's at Benedictine Academy without paying attention in Latin class.

    If she did something for him, he'd have to do something for her if he wanted a replay. But no replay. This time if she got out she would be so not coming back.

    Did she dare? She'd feel like such a loser if he turned her down. But she had to risk it. She had this awful feeling that her future depended on it.

    She opened her mouth to speak but no words of seduction would come.

    Hey. Maybe she could seduce him with money. She had a quarter of a million in cash in her room.

    "Henry? What if I paid you for a shopping trip?"

    "I beg your pardon?"

    "What if I totally paid you ten thousand dollars to take me out for an hour?"

    He looked offended. "You insult me, miss. I am not for sale."

    She was about to double the offer but saw in his steely eyes that it would be a waste of time.

    Okay. Time to bite the bullet, as it were.

    Keeping her chin at water level, she reached behind her and unhooked the top of her bikini. She slipped out of it, releasing the girls, and pushed it under her. Next came the bottom.

    Now… the big moment.

    She rose to her feet and stood thigh deep in the bubbling water, facing Henry. She glanced down at her girls. The wet mounds glistened in the sunlight streaming through the windows. She could see the nipples rising in the chill room air. Maybe she was a little too thick in the waist, a little too wide in the hips, but she had great skin and she was like totally sure that hers was the best bod Henry had seen in a long, long time. She couldn't see her pubes right now but knew they looked sort of funny. Pervo Jerry had made her shave. Well, didn't force her, exactly. All he'd had to do was ask and she'd done it—like she'd done other things he'd asked. The hair was growing back now, looking like a three-day stubble.

    She'd never asked herself why he'd wanted her bare there. Thought it was just some simple kink. Maybe even a hygiene thing, though he'd never shaved himself.

    But knowing what she knew now, it was probably a way to make her look more like a child.

    Her gorge rose again but she forced it back.

    Focus, Dawnie. Focus.

    She looked at Henry and saw that his jaw had totally dropped. The offended look in his eyes had given away to a sort of wonder and awe.

    "Like what you see?"

    Henry continued to stare in silence, his expression frozen.

    She stepped toward him, trying to make her movements languid and sexy, hiding the urgency bubbling inside. If this was going to work, if this was even going to get done, it had to get started soon and end quickly. Before Gilda arrived to make sure Dawn didn't soak beyond her allotted twenty minutes.

    She climbed the two steps up to floor level and stopped before him, dripping.

    And still Henry said nothing. Maybe he'd been dreaming of sex with an eighteen-year-old. Maybe even younger.

    "You got a problem with young stuff, Henry? If not, I'm about to make you a very happy man."

    Ugh. That sounded awful. Still… she'd gotten her message across and he hadn't backed off. Hadn't moved toward her either.