Dear Rita. Simona Taylor

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СКАЧАТЬ of a thrill was a galaxy away. Her men tended to sport do-rags, wear way too much bling, and drive hand-detailed, ten-second rides. Most of them had jobs that paid by the fortnight.

      “Yeah. His name’s Clark. Got his own company, on Temple Street. Niiiice. He’s involved in the negotiations for that new mall they’re putting up on—”

      Cassie had a tendency to ramble. Rita reeled her back in. “What about the date?”

      Cassie came back to the subject without any further prodding. “He called me up and asked me out.”

      “You gave a stranger on the street your number?”

      “Not exactly. I told him I was a magazine editor, and he tracked me down. Not many magazines come out of this neck of the woods, I guess.”

      “Not that many. But don’t you think that someone tracking you down, calling around blind and asking for you, was kind of creepy?”

      “No! It was romantic!”

      “Ah. Romance.”

      Cassie pouted. “Well, it was!”

      Rita didn’t bother arguing. “So, you like him?”

      Cassie’s dark skin glowed prettily. “Uh-huh.”

      “Go out with him, then.” It wasn’t the kind of thing she herself would have done, but Cassie was different. Cassie walked around with magenta hair.

      “I will, but you gotta come, too.”

      “Why?”

      “Because he could be wacko.”

      “What makes you think he’s wacko?”

      “I don’t think he’s wacko, I said he could be wacko.” Cassie’s large brown eyes were pleading. “Rita, please. You know how things have been with me. After what happened and all…”

      Rita softened at once. The left sleeve of Cassie’s lime-green sweat top hid a long, ugly scar, inflicted a little less than a year ago by an ex-boyfriend just days after she’d tried to call it quits. The man had begged her not to end the relationship, peppered her with calls and unwanted visits, before his passion turned to rage. He stormed into her office drunk, calling her every name he could think of for dumping him, while at the same time begging for a second chance. When Cassie refused, he went after her with a letter opener. Only the intervention of a security guard had prevented a tragedy.

      The fact that her jealous lover had been put away did nothing to erase Cassie’s fear. It killed Rita to watch her, a natural flirt who gravitated toward men and loved going out, withdraw from male company. Her friend hadn’t been on a date since. Now she’d met someone she liked, and was afraid.

      “Let’s walk,” Rita said gently. She didn’t much feel like running anymore. They fell into step along the footpath. “Tell me more.”

      “Well, he calls me up at the office yesterday and apologizes for hunting me down like that. I say okay, no problem. He says he really wants to see me.”

      “And you said?”

      “I say I’d like that. But if he wants a date, it’s got to be a double. He says okay, he understands. Please, Rita. Just one date. Just so I can get to know him better. And you can give me your opinion on him. You know I value your advice.”

      “Dear Rita,” she quoted, smiling, “can you tell me if I should see this man again?”

      “Exactly.”

      Rita stopped walking again and looked out onto the lake, buying herself a few seconds. The reds, oranges and yellows of the changing leaves were reflected in the rippling water, and the clear blue of the sky filled the middle. Why not? It was only one night. That was what friends were for.

      “So,” she said, “who’s the frog your prince is bringing along?”

      “He’s not a frog. He’s a very good friend of Clark’s. His partner, in fact.”

      “Another lawyer?” Ick. She wasn’t one for the corporate type, either.

      “Uh-huh. Clark says he’s smart— and good-looking.”

      “Ah, a smart, good-looking lawyer. Let me at him.”

      “Rita!” Cassie protested. “You never know, you might like him. Like your dad says, sometimes serendipity doesn’t just happen. Sometimes you have to hunt it down.”

      “My dad says a bunch of things,” Rita said briskly. “But I don’t need to like this guy. I don’t even care if I do or not. I’m in, but just for you, okay? Does this catch of a guy have a name?”

      “Dorian. Dorian Black.”

      “Dorian Black? What, is he Dorian Gray’s evil twin?”

      Cassie made a face. “I know! Sounds like a joke, but that’s what Clark said.”

      “Does he have a cursed painting in his basement, too?”

      “Attic,” Cassie corrected.

      “Huh?”

      “Dorian Gray’s cursed picture was in his attic.”

      “Oh. Right. And when and where are we going to have the pleasure of their company?”

      “Tonight.” Then Cassie added, sheepishly, “Clark suggested Vimanmek Palace.”

      “You hate Thai food. You think curry is a toxin and coconut milk causes heart attacks. You told him so, didn’t you?”

      Cassie gave her a level look. “I told him that sounded lovely.”

      Rita tried not to roll her eyes. “So my favorite feminist is willing to gulp down cuisine she thinks is sure to kill her rather than admit to a new guy she doesn’t like it.”

      “That’s pretty much it, yeah.”

      “The sisterhood of feminists will miss you,” Rita couldn’t resist teasing, but put her arm around her friend. “Don’t worry. We’ll have a nice evening. I’ll scope out your guy, and I’m sure that by the end of the evening his report card will be glowing.”

      Cassie hugged her gratefully back. “Thanks, girl.”

      “Don’t ever say I don’t love ya.”

       Chapter 3

       D orian Black set his mouse down on the polished surface of his desk. The desk was the most imposing thing in his office. He only kept it because it had been a gift from his father who had spent way too much money on it the day his son began to practice. It was massive, made out of dark oak, with brass handles on the drawers. His dad had half-seriously called it “a power desk for a soon-to-be very powerful man.” It was hardly the kind of furniture he would have bought himself, but it was a gesture born of paternal love and pride, and that made it precious.

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