She was wrapped in a towel and had wet hair when she answered it, and she smiled the moment she heard the voice on the other end. It was Steve.

“How's it going, sweetheart?” He sounded in good spirits, it was early Friday afternoon for him.

“Everything is great,” she answered with a broad smile, pulling the towel closer around her in the air-conditioned room. “We're almost through, and we're oversubscribed ten to one. It's a sure green shoe on this one.” He knew that meant they'd be adding five to ten percent more shares. After a dozen years of her Wall Street career, the jargon was familiar to him. “Callan is really pleased.”

“Is his CFO still being a pain in the ass?” he asked with interest.

“He's been a little better here. He actually smiled today, he left for the weekend with some friends in France. It's kind of nice to get him off our necks.” Most of the time he was like having a crabby grandfather around. But Steve didn't sound pleased to hear it.

“Does that mean you and Dow are alone?”

“More or less. Along with about eight million people in London, I think it's pretty safe.” She was amused by his concern.

“You know what I mean. He's not coming on to you, is he, Merrie?”

“Of course not. He's smarter than that. And by now, we're good friends. After these due diligence tours, you either end up best friends for life, or you never want to lay eyes on each other again. He's been a good sport, and I think he'll stay a good friend. I hope one of these days you'll meet him.”

“All right. … I don't know why, but I don't trust him. I'd much rather be spending the weekend in London with you myself.”

“Then come,” she teased. “You can still meet me in Paris next week.”

“Very funny. You know I'm stuck here. Just get your ass back here as fast as you can. What are you doing this weekend?”

“Just hanging around. I thought I'd do some shopping tomorrow, and Cal and I are going to have dinner tonight at Harry's Bar.” Given what he had just said, she didn't tell him they were going dancing at Annabel's afterward. She knew there was nothing to it, but there was no point upsetting Steve. It was all harmless, and Cal was a perfect gentleman, just as she had said he would be.

“If he gets drunk, just take a cab home by yourself. Don't take a chance.”

“Sweetheart, stop worrying. No one is going to get drunk. We're going to have dinner, and go home. That's all. It's better than room service, but it's no big deal.”

“All right,” he said, sounding mollified, but still slightly unsure. The guy was too young, too successful, too good looking, from everything he'd read and heard. He couldn't imagine any man being able to resist his wife. But even if he was suspicious of Callan, he trusted her completely.

“What about you? What are you up to tonight?” she asked him.

“Sleep. I'm back on call tomorrow. But I've got nothing else to do this weekend anyway. I'm off next weekend at least. I traded it so I could be with you.”

“Why don't we go away somewhere?” She sounded happy at the prospect.

“We'll see.”

They hung up a few minutes later, and she went back to her bath, which was cold by then. She ran some more hot water into it, and sat smiling in the bathtub, thinking of him. It seemed cute to her that he was still jealous after all these years. He had no reason to be, and he knew it. She had never even remotely for a single instant thought of being unfaithful to him. She was still very much in love with Steve, just as he was with her.

When Callan picked her up shortly before eight, she was wearing a short black cocktail dress, high-heeled evening sandals, and a string of pearls. She was wearing makeup and her hair shone like gold. She looked very striking and very pretty, and Cal took a step backward to look at her and seemed impressed. She was always fairly conservatively dressed when she worked, and was given to wearing navy or black suits. She usually looked very much the part of a banker, but tonight she looked young and sexy, and the back of the little black cocktail dress was fairly bare.

“Wow! If I may say so, Mrs. Whitman, you're a knockout. Maybe you should have been wearing that when you made your speech on the tour. If you had, we'd be oversold a hundred to one.”

“Thank you, Callan,” she said, blushing slightly. It was fun getting dressed up for a change, and going out with him.

And when they got to Harry's, all the trendy in-crowd, well-known names and faces, and aristocrats were there. It was still one of the most exclusive restaurants in London, and because it was a club, it looked more like a dinner party in someone's house, than a public place.

They had drinks at the bar, and when they were taken to their table, Meredith recognized the people at the tables on either side. One was a group of important international bankers, some English, some French, one Saudi, and two from Bahrain. And at the table on their right were two movie stars and a director and a well-known Italian prince. It was a star-studded crowd, and it was fun being there with him.

And for once, they didn't talk about business. They were just two people out for dinner on a Friday night. Except for the fact that she was married and he was a client, it was almost like a date, but better in some ways. Neither of them had to worry about the outcome, or the impression they were making, the intentions or agendas of the other, they were just friends enjoying a fun evening.

“Steve must be pretty open-minded,” Callan commented as the waiter poured them each a glass of Chateau d'Yquem with their dessert. It was a sweet sauterne that Meredith had always loved, and it tasted like liquid gold as she sipped it.

‘‘ What makes you say that?’’

“I'm not sure I'd have wanted my wife going out to dinner and dancing, when I was married. I'm not sure I ever trusted Charlotte that much,” and they both knew he hadn't been wrong to distrust her.

“Steve knows he has nothing to worry about. I'm a sure thing,” she said with a smile, as she noticed a very stylish-looking dark-haired woman walk into the restaurant in a red dress. Several people seemed to know who she was, and she was with a very attractive older man. Meredith thought she looked familiar, but she couldn't figure out who she was, and finally, watching her chat and laugh from table to table, Meredith asked Cal if he recognized her. And he looked at her for a long time. “Is she an actress?” She was too old to be a model, but not by very much. And she could have been, when she was younger.

“No, she's an attorney,” he said with a last glance, and then turned around to face Meredith again with a somewhat pinched expression.

“Do you know her? I've seen her somewhere, but I can't place the face.”

“You've seen her in W, and assorted magazines. She's very social, and fairly well known by association, most of her clients are very important. She moves in a very jet-set crowd,” he said simply.

“Who is she?” Meredith looked puzzled, and Cal looked unconcerned, but there was suddenly something hard about his eyes as he answered.

“That's my ex-wife,” he said, looking right across the table into Meredith's eyes. He did not look pleased about it.

“I'm sorry,” she said. She could see that it was a reminder he didn't need. And it was unfortunate that she'd been there.

“Don't be. We're on good terms now. I see her whenever she comes to visit the kids.” But Meredith could sense easily that no matter how he covered it, the encounter was painful for him. She wondered if they were going to say hello to each other, but as the thought crossed her mind, the woman in red was suddenly standing at their table, and holding a hand out to Cal with a dazzling smile, which glittered almost as brilliantly as the diamonds on her ears and fingers. “Hello, Charlotte,” he said simply, “how are you?”

“Fine. What are you doing in this part of the world?” She glanced at Meredith in her simple black dress and string of pearls, and the elegant young investment banker was instantly dismissed as unimportant.

“I'm here on business. And this is Meredith Whitman,” he introduced her politely, and a minute later Charlotte moved on and joined her friends at a table in the rear, for a private party. It struck Meredith after she left that she had never bothered to inquire about their children. She said something about it to Callan, and he shrugged and looked at Meredith with a wry smile. “I told you, Meredith, children aren't her thing. She likes glamour and the jet set, and business, and glitz. All that interests her are the big stars she represents. She's very happy here.” Meredith wondered how much it upset him to see her, but didn't press him about it.

“She's very striking,” Meredith commented, and very beautiful. It said something about the kind of women he was attracted to. It was hard not to be somewhat dazzled by her looks, and from everything Cal had said, she was obviously smart too. It was the important things, like values, and compassion and integrity, which she seemed to lack, from what Cal had told her.

“She was a model as a kid. I think it kind of went to her head. She liked all the attention, and the money, but she knew it couldn't last. So she built something for herself that would. She's actually a very fine attorney, and she loves that whole entertainment world. She adores all her little movie stars, I think she lives vicariously through them. And they're all crazy about her. Maybe that's why she's not as interested in her own kids. Her clients are her children, and she gets all her strokes from them.”

“Kind of like me,” Meredith grinned. “My clients are my kids. Like you. I get everything all set up, and then I send you out into the world to make lots of money and be a big success.” He laughed at the comparison and shook his head.