Chapter 17

The setting sun painted the sky orange over the Chicago skyline as I began my landing at Meigs Field. I wanted to look at the buildings, but couldn’t spare the attention. Instead, I had to deal with a full landing pattern and a gusty crosswind off the lake. I was too high over the threshold, but it was better than the alternative.

After I cleared the runway, I called Ground Control and taxied to the refueling pit by the tower. The wind was just as bad on the ground, and gusts rocked the plane as a heavily muffled attendant filled the tanks.

I was dressed for the relatively mild winter in Knoxville, so tie-down was an arctic adventure, and I couldn’t feel my hands by the time I finished. Daphne stayed in the plane, but her coat wasn’t any warmer than mine, and she was shivering by the time we reached the operations office.

I called a taxi while she sipped hot cocoa and cradled the cup for warmth. The taxi arrived ten minutes later, and the driver suggested a nice hotel. As soon as we passed the airport gate, I pressed my face to the cold window and gawked at the architecture.

The tops of the buildings glowed in the sunset, while lights at street level came to life in the urban twilight. It was a rare glimpse of night and day together, and I looked at Daphne to see her reaction. She didn’t seem impressed, or even interested.

“Have you been here before?” I asked.

“Um ... no. Never.”

I was about to say something else when a building caught my eye. “Whoa, stop!”

The driver ignored me, although he looked over his shoulder at the next stoplight.

I pointed to a neoclassical high-rise. “What’s that building?”

“Da Blackstone? ‘S a hotel.”

“A hotel? Awesome. Forget the other place. Let’s go there.”

“Whatever, Joe,” the driver grumbled, “you da boss.” He was probably losing a kickback from the other hotel, but I didn’t care. When he let us out at the Blackstone, I couldn’t help but stare up at it, oblivious to the wind and cold.

It was a Beaux-Arts masterpiece, designed in classic Sullivan style, with the proportions of a column. It even had a mansard roof, which actually looked good on a building with enough height to justify it.

“Wow,” I said softly.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Daphne said, and hugged my arm, as much for the warmth as to share my excitement. “I love the Blackstone,” she added. “It makes me think of someplace far away, like Italy.”

Or Paris, I thought with a quizzical look, which she didn’t notice. Beaux-Arts was originally a French style, and Paris was full of mansard roofs. Then I realized what she’d said.

“I thought you hadn’t been here before.”

“I haven’t,” she said quickly. “I must’ve ... um ... seen pictures.”

“Of the Blackstone Hotel?” I’d never seen it before, and I was an architecture student.

“Well, sure.” She smiled and changed the subject with an eager look. “Are we going to stay here? Really?”

I suddenly felt like impressing her, and grinned as I escorted her inside. My conviction took a hit when the desk clerk told me how much the room would cost, but I pasted on a smile and pulled out my emergency credit card.

I still didn’t have a card of my own—”Bank rules,” they claimed, because of my age—so I made a note to repay my parents before they got the bill. I also decided to talk to my bank manager about the money I had on deposit. Maybe he’d see reason when I explained that I wasn’t a normal nineteen-year-old. He’d definitely see reason if I had to explain that my money would find a more accommodating home if he didn’t.

Daphne practically glowed with excitement as we rode the elevator to the eighth floor, but I was still brooding about the credit card situation. When we reached the room, she ran to the window and gazed at the traffic below. I looked at the room itself, which was nice enough, but hardly the Ritz. I knew I was being a tightwad, but I’d planned on thirty or forty bucks for a hotel room, not a hundred and forty.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Daphne said. She beamed at me. “I always wanted to stay here.” She sensed my mood and returned from the window. “Thank you,” she said, and gave me a shy look.

It was pure come-on, so I put my arms around her. Besides, she was a welcome cure for my brooding. I cupped her breast and felt her nipple harden in my palm. Her breathing grew heavy as I kissed her. I wanted to fuck her, but we didn’t have any condoms, so I broke the kiss and began unbuttoning her blouse. I peeled the silk from her shoulders and tossed it aside.

I wanted to see her perfect breasts again, and she felt the eagerness in my hands as I popped the catch on her bra. She half-posed so I could admire her chest. I cupped her breasts and squeezed gently. She closed her eyes when I pinched her nipples, and moaned softly as I kissed her again.

“Get on your knees,” I told her.

She sank to the floor as I extracted my hard-on. I pulled her closer and watched as she kissed my shaft. Then she began sucking with short, slow strokes. After two or three minutes, I felt the urge to fuck her anyway, condom or no. I knew I wouldn’t have the willpower to resist for long, so I put my hand on the back of her head.

“You want me to come in your mouth?”

She nodded.

“Then suck it deep.”

She plunged forward, and managed to swallow about half of my cock. She held me in her mouth as long as she could before she had to pull back for a breath.

“Are you getting wet?”

A nod.

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll fuck you later. Do you want that?”

She let my dick slip from her lips. “God, yes.”

“Keep sucking,” I ordered. “There, that’s better. I’ll fuck you when I’m ready. Got it?”

She nodded.

“Good. Now suck me like you want it.”

My cock glistened with saliva as she began bobbing rapidly. When I couldn’t hold back any longer, I held her head and shot down her throat. My whole body tensed from the pleasure of release. When my orgasm subsided I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose as my dick grew soft.

“Do you want to fuck me now?”

I blinked and came to my senses. Then I felt like a jerk for taking advantage of her. “I don’t have a condom,” I said sheepishly.

“So?”

Did she want to get pregnant? I felt an instant stab of fear, but mastered it and lifted her to her feet. “Sorry,” I said. “But I can return the favor.”

“That’s okay,” she said with a shrug.

I felt guilty for disappointing her, but I wasn’t going to take the risk. Not again, I reminded myself.

“Do you want to get supper?” she asked.

I pulled her close and felt her bare breasts against my chest. “I want to fuck your brains out,” I said, “but we need condoms.”

She forced a smile.

“So let’s find a drugstore.”

“I’m kinda hungry.”

“Okay, let’s have dinner first, and then find a drugstore.”

Daphne wanted pizza, so the hotel concierge suggested a restaurant with a funny name, Uno’s. Her eyes lit up at the name, and I managed to hide my suspicious look.

If she’s never been to Chicago, then I’m Mike Ditka.

The restaurant was packed, so we had to wait for a table. Daphne and I made small talk, but she seemed nervous. Then I noticed a guy in a leather jacket at the bar who was staring at her. Every guy in the place had given her a lingering glance when she walked in, but this guy didn’t stop. After a few minutes he stood and made his way toward us.

“This is crazy,” Daphne said abruptly. “Let’s just find someplace else.”

“What are you talking about? We’re practically next on the list.”

“I don’t want pizza anymore. Let’s just go.”

“Brandy,” the guy called, and it took me a moment to realize that he wasn’t talking to the bartender.

Daphne stiffened, but covered it quickly and tried to sound offhand. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Brandy?” the guy said again as he drew near. He was several inches taller than me, with a square jaw and black hair. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he said.

Daphne’s shoulders slumped and I caught a brief glimpse of defeat, but then her expression changed completely. She gave the guy a confused, annoyed look. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

He laughed sardonically. “Yeah, right. Nice try. You owe me five grand.”

I did a double take.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

He gave another laugh, this one nasty. “Sure you do.” He looked at me. “Who’s this, your pimp?”

I bristled. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m her boyfriend.”

“Sure, kid, whatever you wanna call yourself.”

My eyes hardened. “Do we have a problem?”

“I dunno, do we?”

“Come on, Paul,” Daphne said. “He’s just some loser.”

The guy wasn’t going to back down, and I felt a cool buzz as adrenaline flooded my system. We locked eyes and he laughed in contempt.

“You know,” I said matter-of-factly, “I’ve been trying to work on my temper, but I think I’ll make an exception for you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure, kid, let’s step outside.”

“Don’t hurt him, Paul,” Daphne said. “He has friends.”

“Him?” the guy blurted. “Hurt me?”

I didn’t want to bluster, so I forced a smile instead—it didn’t reach my eyes. Most fights are half psychological, and I wanted any advantage I could get. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch. Then his eyes narrowed as he calculated the odds.

He smirked, and I knew he was going to take his chances before we even got outside. His right shoulder drew back slightly and his fingers curled into a fist. I shifted my balance for an Uki Goshi takedown.

The bar was tight quarters for a throw like that, but the guy would slam into the floor with me standing over him. From there, I could end the fight with a simple wrist lock. I’d seen Glen do the same thing the year before. It wasn’t legal in judo, but real fights don’t have referees, or even rules. So I cleared my mind and waited for him to throw the first punch. Then someone loomed beside us.

“Hey! What d’you think you’re doing?”

“Butt out, pal,” Square-jaw said without looking away.

“I’m not your pal,” the new guy said, “and you better wise up.” He flashed a badge and the tension popped like a soap bubble. “‘Cause the first guy who takes a swing in here is gonna wish he hadn’t.” He leveled his gaze at Square-jaw. “Now go back to the bar, sit down, and shut up.”

Square-jaw’s attitude changed immediately. “No problem, detective.” He wasn’t obsequious, but he was all smiles, like it was one big misunderstanding. He gave me a mocking snort. “Nice meetin’ ya, kid.” Then he tossed his chin at Daphne. “She’s a psycho anyway. You can keep her.” He walked away without a backward glance.

The cop turned to me. “You, take your girl and get outta here.”

“Our table’s almost ready,” I said, as politely as I could with all the adrenaline in my system. “So we’ll just wait over there, if that’s all right with you.”

“As a matter of fact, it’s not all right with me. I said beat it.”

“But ... that’s not fair!”

“Life ain’t fair. Get used to it. Now, if you’re not outta here by the time I count to three, you’re gonna spend the night in jail.”

“This isn’t right,” I said tersely.

“One.”

I set my jaw.

“Two.”

“Paul, please,” Daphne said.

The cop raised his eyebrows. “Pretty girl like that,” he said to me, “I’d listen to her.”

“This isn’t fair,” I said. “That other guy started it!” I knew I should just leave, but I couldn’t believe the injustice.

“I don’t care, kid. Now, are you gonna make me arrest you?”

I thought about telling him yes, just to spite him, but the rational part of my brain kicked in. “No,” I said at last.

“No, what?”

I suddenly realized that the bar had grown quiet, and everyone was staring at us.

“No, what?” he repeated. From the look in his eye, he didn’t want to arrest me—he just wanted me to acknowledge his authority.

I clenched my fists and tasted bile. I hated doing it, but I swallowed pride. “No, sir.”

“Smart move,” he said with a nod of sympathy. “Now beat it.”

I climbed into the taxi and slammed the door. My emotions were chaotic: angry, relieved, and strangest of all, aroused.

Daphne was practically giddy. “That was amazing! I can’t believe you stared down— that guy.” She leaned close and I felt her breath on my ear. “God, you make me so hot.”

“Where to, bud?” the cabbie said.

My dick sprang erect when Daphne put her hand on it. “Oh my God,” she whispered, “it’s so big.”

“Hey, Joe...?” the driver said impatiently.

Why do they keep calling me Joe? “The Blackstone.”

Daphne moaned softly. “Are you going to fuck me with your big cock?”

I started to fondle her, but then swore under my breath. “Find a drugstore first,” I told the cabbie.

A minute later I leapt out of the cab and dashed into the little shop. After a feverish search I discovered the condoms at the back of the store. I grabbed a box of Trojans and was about to run back to the checkout when something caught my eye. I took a second to find it again and then snatched the K-Y jelly. The cashier smirked as he took my money, but I didn’t care.

Outside, I leapt into the waiting taxi. “Hit it!”

Daphne and I groped like teenagers on prom night, and I’m sure the cabbie got an eyeful. In the hotel we had the elevator to ourselves, so I pinned her against the wall and kissed her.

When we reached our room, I didn’t even bother with niceties like taking off her clothes. I simply unbuttoned her jeans, pushed them down, and turned her to face the wall. She braced herself as I opened my pants and pulled out my erection. I tore open the box of condoms and caught the chain of packets as it flew out. I ripped one open and rolled the slippery ring over my shaft.

Daphne moaned as I entered her from behind and began thrusting. After barely a minute I slammed into her and filled the condom. We panted together, sated for the moment. Then I began to kiss her neck, and she arched her back. I slid my hands under her blouse and cupped her breasts from behind. She moaned when I pinched her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra.

We stumbled toward the bed and fell onto it in a tangle of legs. I pulled off her jeans and panties as she tugged at my shirt. I flung the clothes aside and pushed my boxers down. Daphne spread her legs and I scooted between them. My pants bunched around my ankles, but I ignored them as I aimed my cock at her opening.

I was still wearing the condom, and something tickled the back of my brain about not using it twice. Then I slid into her and didn’t care. She lifted her hips to meet me, and my lips sought hers. I thrust hard and felt her wrap her long legs around me.

Our tempo built at a deliberate pace, until I propped myself on my arms and began pumping in earnest. She gripped my triceps and silently urged me on. Her blouse had ridden up, but it still covered her breasts. I wanted to see them, so I stopped thrusting.

“Take that off,” I said.

She fumbled with the blouse and managed to unbutton it. Then she popped the catch on her bra and the lacy cups sprang aside. I gazed at the perfect mounds as I began thrusting again. She cupped her breasts and tweaked her nipples.

A rush of wetness engulfed my shaft, and she arched her back with a moan of pleasure. I began thrusting hard, driving toward a climax. Her eyes opened abruptly, and she looked surprised. Then she closed them again and opened her mouth in a silent scream.

I couldn’t hold back any longer and buried myself to the hilt. I exploded with a rush of sensation that felt like every ounce of fluid in my body was shooting through my cock. She cried out and went rigid.

Through my own pleasure, I felt her pussy tighten around my shaft. She gripped the bedspread so hard that I felt it shift under my knees. A torrent of heat and moisture flooded around my cock. I even felt it on my thighs and dripping from my balls.

My eyes widened when I realized what had happened: she’d had an orgasm—a real one. When she finally released the spread, I lowered my face and kissed her gently. I thought she’d be relieved, or overjoyed, or even sleepy.

Instead, she clung to me and I felt her body shake. I thought she was still trembling from the strength of her orgasm, but then I realized she was crying. I hoped it was just a release of emotion, so I held her until she calmed down.

I pulled back and gazed down at her. “Better?” I said hopefully. With her red nose and tear-streaked cheeks, she looked more beautiful than ever. I started to say something else, but she put her hand on my chest.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay ... um ... sure.” I climbed from between her legs.

She walked unsteadily to the bathroom and shut the door.

I shook my head in bewilderment and stared after her for a few seconds. Then I rolled to the edge of the bed and puzzled through her actions. I stood and kicked off my shoes, still lost in thought, but snapped out of it when I reached for the condom.

“Oh, shit.” I shot a glance at the closed bathroom door and then back at my dick.

The condom was gone.

After a frantic moment I saw it on the bed, in the middle of a damp spot. I reached for it and silently prayed that it had slipped off after I’d come. A ball of lead settled in my stomach as I realized that the semen in the tip wasn’t nearly enough for two loads.

I sank to the bed and stared at the sleeve of latex. Daphne emerged a minute later. I had no idea how to tell her, so I palmed the evidence.

“Do you want to order room service?” she asked.

I must have hidden my mood better than I thought, because she didn’t look suspicious when I forced a nod.

We found the menu, and I called down to order a deep-dish pizza. Then we watched TV until it arrived. She didn’t mention her crying jag, and I didn’t mention the condom.

I thought I’d be too preoccupied to eat, but my stomach rumbled at the scent of pizza. Daphne seemed oblivious to my mood, and slowly devoured two pieces. When she finished she wiped her hands on the linen napkin and stretched languidly.

Her thin silk blouse outlined her breasts, and the hem lifted to show the wedge of hair between her legs. I was in a funk, but I wasn’t blind. I took a sip of my drink to cover my glance, but then she dropped one of her bombshells.

“Do you want to fuck me again?”

I almost spewed Coke. “Um ... yeah, of course. But maybe let me digest first.”

“Oh. Okay.”

We fell into an awkward silence.

“I can suck your cock. You can come on my face if you want. I won’t dodge or anything.”

I blinked in surprise. “Yeah, sure. But ... um ... maybe later.”

“Oh. Okay.” She smiled uncertainly and thought for a moment. “Do you want me to dance for you?”

I was too surprised to reply, so I changed the subject. “You should probably call Sara.”

She grew suspicious. “Why?”

“Just to let her know you’re okay. I mean, she’s probably wondering where you are.”

“She doesn’t care.”

I suddenly got the impression that I was a pawn in a lovers’ spat. What is it with me and women? I wondered sourly. Do I have a tattoo on my forehead that says “Screw with my emotions”?

“I’m sure she does,” I said aloud. “You can call her while I run down to the front desk.”

“What for?”

“I want to see if they have a courtesy kit or something for people who’ve lost their luggage.” We hadn’t exactly lost ours, but it was close enough.

“Okay,” Daphne said meekly.

“Are you going to call her?”

She shrugged.

“You need to let her know you’re okay. You don’t want her to call the police or anything.”

That got through to her.

“Here,” I said helpfully, “I’ll figure out how to dial long distance.” I picked up the handset and dialed her phone number. I let it ring once before I offered her the receiver.

She took it reluctantly.

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes or so,” I said, and gathered the rest of my clothes. I tried not to listen to the conversation as I got dressed, but it was hard to avoid.

“Hi, it’s me,” Daphne said. “No, I’m all right.” She glanced at me. “Um ... yeah.” She winced at Sara’s reaction.

I felt sorry for her, but wanted to give her some privacy. For my part, I wanted some time to think. On the elevator ride downstairs I wondered why I’d suggested calling Sara.

Part of me wanted to get rid of Daphne as soon as I could, but I felt guilty for even thinking it. After all, she might be pregnant. I wasn’t a cad, so I’d pay for an abortion. I thought about how I’d go about it when my eyes flew wide at a sudden thought.

What if she doesn’t want one?

I already knew that she wasn’t wife material—not for me, at least—but I’d marry her if I had to. I obviously felt something for her, even if it wasn’t love. She was hiding her past, and she was emotionally damaged, but she was a sweet girl. And despite her fake orgasms, I thought she liked me as well.

The ding of the elevator snapped me out of my trance. The concierge had gone for the day, but the night manager gave me two travel kits with the Blackstone logo embossed on the side. At least I was getting something for my hundred and forty bucks.

I tried to cheer myself up on the ride back upstairs, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how my life would change if Daphne were pregnant. I silently prayed that it was the wrong time of the month, but I didn’t know how to ask without starting an argument. Then again, what if she wanted to get pregnant? I didn’t even want to think about that.

I started to brood, but pulled up short when I realized that I’d reached the room. I took out the key and slid it into the lock. Daphne was still on the phone, and she’d been crying. She looked up when I shut the door.

“He’s back,” she said. “Hold on.” She held out the phone. “Sara wants to talk to you.”

“Um ... what for?”

Daphne shrugged.

I took the phone and cautiously held it to my ear. “Hello?”

“What the hell did you think you were doing, taking her to Chicago?”

“Hi,” I said deliberately. “Nice to talk to you too.”

“Cut the bullshit, asshole. This is serious.”

“Then why don’t you dial it down a notch, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart!”

“And I’m not an asshole!”

“Yeah? Well, you coulda fooled me.”

I bit back a nasty reply. “Are you just going to bitch at me,” I asked tersely, “or do you actually have a point?”

“If you’d shut up and listen, dumbass, I’ll tell y—”

“Hey! Enough with the dyke bitch routine. Just move on. Daphne’s with me now.”

“Excuse me?”

“Daphne isn’t with you anymore,” I said, rubbing it in. “She’s with me now.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Nothing. But I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s debatable.”

I took a deep breath and mastered my temper. “Whatever,” I said dismissively.

“Listen,” she said, “I don’t know what you think you know, but—”

“Daphne’s bi,” I said, which stopped Sara cold, “and you’re a lesbian. Then again, maybe you’re just bi and really pissed off at men.”

“So what if I am?” she said defiantly.

I goaded her. “Are what? Lesbian? Or bi?”

“Either.”

“What do I care? You’re not the one I’m interested in.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” she said nastily.

I forced a laugh. “Listen,” I said, more for Daphne’s benefit than Sara’s, “I don’t care if you’re straight, bi, or a complete lesbian. Whatever makes you happy. But Daphne’s with me now.” Why in God’s name am I claiming her now, when I was trying to get rid of her earlier? I suppressed the thought and plowed on. “So quit being a bitch and move on.”

“Put Daphne on.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no,” I repeated. “I’m not going to let you bully her. Got it? Now, time to move on.”

“Let me speak to her.”

“Which part of ‘no’ did you not understand?”

“Let ... me... speak to her.”

I kept a tight rein on my emotions. “No. Move on.”

“I can’t,” she screamed. “Don’t you get it?”

“Get what?”

“I love her,” she said, and broke down crying.

My heart wrenched at the sound of anguish, and I wondered what I’d gotten myself into. Then my knees felt weak and I sat down abruptly.

“I hate you,” Sara railed. “I fucking hate you. Why did you do this to us?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I love her,” she shouted, “don’t you understand?”

I waited for her to calm down, which gave me a chance to get my own emotions under control. Then I shot a quick glance across the room.

“How does Daphne feel?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Sara wailed softly. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

I stood and stared at my reflection in the window. Maybe I had that tattoo after all.

Sara eventually got her tears under control. “Are you still there?”

I snapped out of it. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Will you let her go?”

“Yeah. No. I don’t know. Maybe.” I stopped to gather my thoughts. “I don’t know,” I said at last. “I guess it depends on what she wants.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means that Daphne has a say in this,” I said deliberately. I could see her reflection in the window, but I resisted the urge to look at her directly. “I mean, she’s with me for a reason. I don’t know what it is”—Revenge? A fling? To get pregnant?—”but she’s here, and you have to deal with it. Okay?”

“No, it’s not okay. I want her back.”

“Have you told her that?”

Sullenly, “No.”

I wanted to laugh. “You’re as bad as a guy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” I said slowly, “that if you don’t tell her how you feel, she’ll never know. She’s not a mind reader.” I glanced at the ceiling in frustration. “I thought women were supposed to be good at this stuff, but you’re worse than I am.”

Sara started to react, but I cut her off.

“Never mind,” I said. “That was a cheap shot. Sorry. But that still doesn’t change the fact that you have to tell her this stuff. How’s she supposed to know? Is she supposed to know that you care when you go psycho? Is that it? How stupid is that?”

“Yeah, well what do you know about it, asshole?”

“I know about communication!” For all the good it’s done me.

“Well aren’t you special.”

I took a deep breath and controlled my temper. “Listen,” I said, “we can bicker all night, but that’s not going to solve anything.”

“Yeah, well you’re the one with Daphne. In Chicago, of all places! What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Me? It was her idea!”

“How stupid can you—? Wait, what did you say?”

“I said it was her idea. Besides, how was I supposed to know about ... that guy?”

“What guy?”

I described Square-jaw.

“Oh, shit,” Sara said. “This is bad. You saw him?”

“Saw him? I almost got in a fight with him.”

She mocked me with a laugh. “That would’ve been dumb.”

“Dumb? I’d’ve kicked his ass.”

“Yeah, and his friends would’ve cut your throat and dumped your body in the river.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

Evidently not.

“You have to get out of there,” Sara continued. “Can you leave tonight?”

I thought about it for a moment, but then shook my head. I hadn’t taken enough night flights recently, so I wasn’t current to fly with passengers after sunset.

“Not an option,” I said, with more bravado than I felt. “Why? Who is this guy?”

“You don’t wanna know. But if anything happens to Daphne, I’ll—”

“Nothing’s going to happen to Daphne.” Or me, but thanks for asking.

“I swear to God,” Sara said, “if anything happens...”

“All right! I get it. I’m not an idiot.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

I stared at the ceiling and huffed in exasperation. “Are you done yet?”

“If anything ha—”

“Christ! Give it a rest. D’you think you’re the only one who cares about her?”

“Like you do,” Sara shot back. “You’ve known her what ... a week?”

“What’s that have to do with it?”

“I know your type,” she said contemptuously. “I know what you want. You’re just like the others.”

I started to snap at her, but caught myself. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath instead. “If you’d bother to get to know me,” I said tersely, “you’d realize that I care about Daphne.” A reflection in the window caught my eye, and I saw Daphne cover her mouth. “Besides,” I added, more for Daphne than Sara, “I’m not the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. I’ll make sure she’s safe. You have my word.”

“Great!” Sara mocked. “I have your word. What good is that?”

“A lot, actually,” I said. “Like I said, if you’d get to know me, maybe you’d realize I’m a nice guy.”