“Must be nice,” she responded with a smile. Pushing her plate away, she looked up at me. “I’m done. What should we do now?”

I leaned in. “What about the fund-raiser? Isn’t there somewhere you have to be?”

“No, tonight’s banquet was called off. Somebody died here or something. I guess he was supposed to speak.”

“How awful.” I didn’t really mean it. I felt like a hero for saving her from a boring speech and a rubberchicken dinner. Killing this vic saved my lady fair.

“Yeah. Some diplomat’s kid.”

I divided the remaining wine into our two glasses and tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible, “How did he die?”

“No one has said, but the consensus is that he had an accident.”

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, as if on cue. I took it out and checked the screen.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Veronica, I have to take this.” I left the table before she had the opportunity to ask me what kind of calls a carney would get that would interrupt dinner.

I found a nice, quiet corner and answered. “Hello, Mum.”

“Squidgy!” Mom shouted with enthusiasm. “Nice work!”

“Tell him it’s all over the news!” I heard my dad shout in the background.

Mom mumbled something at him, then returned to me. “Anyway, well-done. And word is you helped Paris and Dak with their assignment. You’re such a good boy.” I could actually feel her fingers closing on my cheeks.

“Thanks, Mum. Anything else?”

“No, why?” she asked, as if anything was important enough to tear her little boy away from her.

“I’m on a date.”

Mom promptly exploded. “You are? Oh, Squidgy! How wonderful!” I heard her mumble something to Dad about grandchildren.

“Mum, I’ve got to get back.” I didn’t want Veronica to run off.

“Okay! Have fun!” I thought I heard her say, “Get married,” but that might have been my imagination.

I returned to the table and joined Veronica. “Sorry about that. Now, where were we?”

“Who was it?” Ronnie asked. I found her complete lack of tact refreshing. I really did.

“My sick friend. He’s rallied. He says hello.”

“Hmmm.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll bet he did.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Of course not.” She wobbled indignantly. “I’m just a little buzzed. That’s all.”

Veronica stood. Then she toppled back into her chair, giggling. “Oops.” She giggled again.

I liked it. But I was concerned that she’d had a bit too much to drink. And for some reason, I was pretty sure that Veronica Gale wasn’t much of a drinker.

I motioned for the check, and within a few minutes I was leading one tipsy anthropologist back to where she thought her room might be. All I had wanted to do was loosen her up. But if this woman got any looser I was afraid her head would come off.

Chapter Five

Thirty minutes later I was convinced Veronica had no idea where her room was. And to tell you the truth, I was getting a little worried. The hallways were filled with suits-men I assumed were from various government agencies. And they noticed that I was dragging a drunk woman around with me aimlessly through the hallways.

“Excuse me, sir.” A tight-lipped man in a boring black suit asked for the seventh time, “Are you lost?”

“No, I-” I was cut off completely as Veronica launched herself into my arms and kissed me. It was nice. I enjoyed it. Maybe not half as much as the federal retinue watching us. Against my will, I came up for air.

“I’m taking her to our room right now,” I answered as Veronica burst into another fit of giggles.

“Yes! We’re goin’ to our room!” she shouted enthusiastically.

Once inside my room, I locked the door and looked out the peephole. No one there. That was good.

“So, what now, sailor?” Veronica flopped drunkenly onto my bed and promptly passed out.

“What now, indeed.” I sighed. Very carefully, I removed her shoes and dress. For a moment I felt guilty staring at her in her underwear. She really was a lovely young woman-slender and shapely. Too bad she was also something I didn’t like in a woman…unconscious.

After covering her up, I sat in a chair by the door, watching her and listening for any movement outside. My thoughts drifted to the memories of women past. If I were a gentleman, I’d say there weren’t many. Of course, then I wouldn’t be a gentleman because I’d be lying. No, I’d had my fair share of women over the years. Nothing permanent since, well, since Frannie Smith. I liked to keep things detached.

It just wasn’t in me to find one partner and settle down. I liked living off-the-cuff. And I guess if you think about it, I was already in a monogamous relationship with a guinea pig.

Sartre squeaked as if she knew I was thinking about her. I pulled her out of the cage and onto my lap. She snuggled up, and I stroked her fur as she purred and fell asleep. Great. I couldn’t seem to keep any women awake.

There was one meaningful relationship in my sordid past. Shutting my eyes couldn’t make the memory of one Frances Smith go away. The pain that stabbed my heart was just as fresh as the day she said goodbye. Frannie. She broke my heart.

Isn’t there always one love who can take your heart and give it a slow, painful death? Nothing ever eased the ache. Leaning back and closing my eyes, I allowed the inevitable wash of college memories to flow. It’s funny how your brain disobeys you. I didn’t want to think about that. Fortunately, Sartre sank her teeth into my flesh and it all went away, dissolved in a mist of pain.

That was the pig’s way of letting me know she had to pee. And since I didn’t want to get soaked, I decided to put her back in her cage. I threw in a few carrots and sat back down in the chair, willing myself to sleep.

I didn’t sleep much. Sitting up in a chair, fully clothed, will do that to you. Morning slipped through the sheer curtains, stealing across Veronica’s face. She looked like she was lost. She kind of was, just didn’t know it.

I decided to grab a quick shower. As I stepped out into the room wearing nothing but a towel, Veronica suddenly sat straight up. This time, she looked terrified.

“Oh, God. Oh, no! We didn’t…did we?” The blanket slipped from her chest and she clawed at it to cover herself.

I smiled. “What? You don’t remember?” Technically, I wasn’t lying. Granted, there was a certain amount of sordid innuendo there, but I really hadn’t confirmed anything.

Her eyes widened. I hoped it was more that she regretted not remembering a night of passion with me. However, it appeared she was more concerned that she’d actually had a night of passion. This woman was uptight indeed.

“Relax,” I said. “You were so drunk we couldn’t find your room, so I brought you here. Nothing happened.” Now, why did I say that? I could’ve had a good time with this.

“Oh,” she said. Did I detect a note of regret? Or was that what I wanted to hear?

I tossed her the big, fluffy hotel robe, and she slid into it and dashed for the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked a few moments later as she stepped out of the bathroom. Her hair was smoothed, face washed and teeth brushed. I wondered if she used my toothbrush. It wouldn’t have bothered me if she did. A germaphobe I ain’t.

I looked down at the yarn and needles in my lap. “Knitting.”

“You knit?” She seemed shocked.

“Yes.” I held up the scarf I was working on. It was a lovely café-au-lait baby alpaca. I have to admit, I’m a bit of a yarn snob. Only the best will do.

Veronica reached out and touched the scarf, fondling the fibers. It was a definite turn-on.