The door to the stylish ladies' room at Culp and Christopher banged back.

Molly carried on drawing a careful outline around her lips. They were a lot more vulnerable than they had been a month ago.

"Jay's bringing Gorgeous George to the party tonight," announced Abby.

Caught unawares, Molly drove the red line up toward her nose.

"You do fancy him," crowed Abby.

"No I don't."

But suddenly all Molly could see was firelight on naked skin. George, his eyes hungry, her hair on his pillow. Shadows...

Abby grinned. They were very good friends. She patted Molly on the arm.

"Enjoy," she said.

Molly came out of her reverie with a jerk. She looked at her watch. If she was going to have to face George, then there were things she had to do.

* * *

The Pacific Grill was definitely the place in London's West End to be seen at the moment. It had pyramid-high ceilings, vivid murals, and the meanest margaritas in the city. And the coolest clientele.

And the coolest of all was Molly di Perretti.

She had taken the afternoon to change her hair from tangerine to turquoise. To that she had added turquoise nails with silver lightning zigzags and Nefertiti eye makeup.

George's heart sank the moment he saw her. If she had a spontaneous reaction over the course of the evening, he thought, the Egyptian face paint would hide it completely. He wondered if that was why she had done it.

He commandeered two salt-encrusted glasses and strolled over to her. "Hi, gorgeous. Lost your sarcophagus?"

The girls with her looked taken aback. But Molly was unmoved.

"I'm a prime babe. I always paint up when I go on the town," she told him coolly. "If you were sophisticated you'd know that people expect it."

Sam and Abby exchanged startled glances.

George raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Isn't the sphinx look dated?"

Female solidarity swung into action. Abby said hurriedly, "It's coming back."

"Yes, it is. At Molly's the swinging-from-the-rafters end of the business, anyway." That was Sam. "It's all the rage with pop divas and rock philosophers."

George's eyes danced. "Pop divas and rock philosophers, eh?"

He gave Molly that slow smile that turned her bones to water and her brain to mush.

"No wonder you didn't want me," he said softly.

Blond, kind Sam blinked. "Excuse me?"

"As a client," George said smoothly. "As a client."

But one look at Molly's face, even under the Egyptian queen makeup, told them that was not what he meant at all.

Sam took hold of Abby's wrist and pulled her out of the way. George walked Molly backward until she hit the waves painted on the wall.

"Wow," she said, her back against a polished brass rail that ran round the faux deck of the bar. "Very smooth." She sounded breathless and not entirely pleased.

"Thank you," said George. He handed her the margarita.

She took it, but she said, "It wasn't a compliment."

He smiled at her, the hooded eyes alive with laugher. And something else. What was it?

"Yes it was."

Her chin came up. "Wrong."

He sighed. "Why do you dislike me so much?" For once, he had lost the drawl.

"I don't."

"Yes, you do. You take a chunk out of the fleshy bit of my leg every chance you get. The others don't."

"The others," said Molly, goaded, "don't know that you have legs. They just see a hundred million dollars wrapped up in a dinner jacket, driving a Ferrari."

"And what do you see?"

She hesitated. "We were lovers." George reminded her. "You must have seen something."

She avoided his eyes. "High octane energy," said Molly coolly. "Minimal slush content."

But her mouth gave her away. That voluptuous, vulnerable mouth. George's body hardened in unequivocal response.

He gave a ragged laugh. "You know, I don't know what you do to your other men, but this is plying hell with my blood pressure."

She glowered. "I don't do anything to other men."

"I'm glad to hear it," said George coolly. "Though it needs looking into."

"Why?"

"You're too young to give up sex."

Molly saw him through a red mist of rage. "I have not given up sex," she yelled.

Even in the Pacific Bar heads turned.

George smiled. "Good." He took her margarita glass away. "Let's go discuss this."

To be continued



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