Of all the nerve! Were there actually women who put up with treatment like that and came back for more? And he hadn't been content to tip her into the pool, he'd implied that she was skinny… skinny! She stepped before a mirror, scrutinized her reflection… and burst into tears. Lord, she was so mixed up about him. He had been trying to apologize, and the least she could have done was accept his apology gracefully. She thought about his anger, the names he had flung at her. All right, so she was a… a smug, supercilious socialite. But she couldn't help it. She'd been raised to believe that one's public image was important. Did he think she should blithely open her door to him one day, then ring up his hot-pink earrings the next?

On Monday a package arrived for her at Panache. She opened it to find an electric blow dryer and a note: "Learn to fix your hair yourself so you can be prepared for the unexpected."

She raged inwardly and swore she'd have him put under lock and key if he kept pestering her this way. Then she wrapped the hair dryer and mailed it back to him with a note saying, "You'll need this to dry your suits when you stumble into the next woman's pool."

The following week Rachel got home one day to find an enormous bouquet of white roses and leather-leaf fern on the dining room table. The card read, "I'm sorry, Rachel. I found out you were in Dallas. And you're not too skinny. Please have dinner with me Friday night at my house. We'll be well chaperoned this time."

So what was he doing now, going around town asking people questions about her comings and goings?

Callie Mae watched Rachel's face closely as she read the message. She noted the scowl, then the dismissing look Rachel gave the flowers before tossing the card down and never looking at it again.

"Mighty pretty flowers," Callie Mae remarked. "Expensive, too." But her curiosity was not to be satisfied. Neither Rachel nor the card gave any clue as to who they were from.

Tommy Lee waited several days for her to answer his invitation but soon realized she wasn't going to.

He tried to run the disappointment out of his system. By now he could jog to the end of the driveway and back with no trouble at all, and as the days passed he worked himself up to four miles a day. He ran to the beat of her name-Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. Every day he swam, too, and worked with the weights and did sit-ups. His muscles tautened, his stomach began to flatten, and even his chin grew firmer. The exercise, coupled with Georgine's parsimonious cooking, soon gave his skin a healthy elasticity that seemed to dissolve the webs from about his eyes.

But it mattered little, for Rachel had neither answered his invitation nor thanked him for the flowers. Weeks passed and he stopped driving past Panache, hoping it would help evict her from his thoughts. But nothing helped. Nothing.

There were times when he grew righteously angry, thinking, The world is full of women, why do I waste my time mooning over one who keeps saying no? There are plenty of nice women in the world, and how do I know one of them wouldn't please me just as much as Rachel? Hell, I haven't been with a really decent woman in years!

He was in precisely such a mood one day as he stepped to the doorway between his office and Liz's, glancing up to ask her about an invoice he was holding. But she was on the phone so he stood for a moment, waiting for her to finish the conversation.

She had a pleasant way about her when doing business on the phone. She never got upset or impatient, and she laughed readily, as she did now, at something being said on the other end of the line. She lifted her eyes to Tommy Lee and gave him an I'll-be-done-in-a-minute signal.

He stood listening and watching while she concluded the conversation, realizing once again how attractive she was. Her blond hair was shorter now for the summer and she wore a fresh butter-yellow suit as tasteful and attractive as anything Rachel might wear. Come to think of it, she was a lot like Rachel. She was nice, decent, and infinitely respectable. She dressed and acted like a lady at all times, was poised, efficient, and friendly. No matter what his own mood, hers remained cheerful-and he realized he'd been grouchy more often than not lately.

Liz hung up the phone and said, "Sorry. What can I do for you?"

And out of the clear blue sky, Tommy Lee answered, "You can go out to dinner with me tonight."

Liz's eyebrows rose in surprise. "To dinner!"

"Well, it's about time, isn't it? You've worked for me six years and I've never even treated you to a night out. And you deserve it. I've been a regular bear lately. I don't know how you put up with me."

She laughed and replied, "Come to think of it, you have."

"Does that mean yes?"

"I'm sorry. The boys will be home and I probably can't find a baby-sitter on such short notice."

"How about your parents?" He saw her waver momentarily and pushed his advantage. "Come on. Help me celebrate-I've lost over half the weight I've set out to lose."

"And you want to celebrate by putting some of it back on? A real friend would say absolutely not."

"I'll pick you up at seven-what do you say?" She chuckled and was already turning toward her typewriter as she gave in. "Oh, all right, but if you don't let me get back to work I'll still be here at seven."

They had a delightful meal at a Mexican restaurant in Florence, and afterward talked all the way back to Russellville. Their years of working closely with each other put them very much at ease, and they found themselves readily able to converse on a variety of subjects, laughing at Liz's amusing anecdotes about her boys, discussing the personalities of various people Tommy Lee did business with, and reaching back into their ample store of high school and college stories to come up with the most outrageous pranks they had pulled in their youth.

When they reached Liz's house he walked her to the door, their spirit still bright, feeling relaxed and easy with each other.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Gentry. The dinner was delicious and I had a wonderful time."

"That goes double for me, but you could drop the formalities and call me Tommy Lee."

"It wouldn't seem right to call my boss Tommy Lee."

"But tonight I'm not your boss… just a friend, okay?"

"Well, in any case, good night, and thank you again." She was already turning away toward the door when he captured her arm and swung her back to face him.

"Hey, not so fast there."

"Tomorrow's a workday and I wouldn't want to be late," she replied perkily. "The boss might get upset."

"I guarantee he won't."

Though she gave the expected chuckle, he sensed a change in her the moment he touched her. The smile fell away and she dropped her eyes. Her arm was soft and bare, and she wore a familiar cologne whose scent he readily associated with her after having smelled it all these years around the office. He realized again that much of his attraction for her stemmed from the fact that she was every inch a lady, the kind who very naturally commanded a man's respect, the kind who probably didn't do this kind of thing often or lightly.

We've both wondered for a long time, he thought. So let's find out.

Her blue eyes closed and her pink lips opened as he dropped his mouth over hers in a soft, undemanding kiss. She was honest enough to allow herself to sample him-just as he sampled her-before pressing a hand to his chest and backing away.

"No, I don't think so," she answered quietly, as if he'd asked her a question.

He raised his head in surprise. "You don't think what?"

"This isn't really what you want."

"It isn't?" He was baffled by her unusual response to the kiss-very different from what he'd expected.

She shook her head. "Uh-uh. I know you've wondered, and I'll admit I have, too. But what you really want is someone else, I think."

He was still smitten by surprise as he asked, out of curiosity, "Who?"

"Rachel Hollis."

Oddly enough, he didn't even think of denying it. "How did you know?"

"How did I know? I've worked for you for six years. On more than one occasion, I've watched your eyes follow her when she walked along the street to the bank. There's a certain way a man looks at a woman that tells it all, and you can't even watch her pass by without giving yourself away."

He'd never realized it showed. He felt rather like a schoolboy caught cheating on a test.

"I've also seen you talking to her on the street lately. When you come back into the office afterward, you're a bundle of frustration."

Tommy Lee hung his head and tried to think of something to reply.

"Oh, don't look so guilty, all right? It was high time you and I did what we just did, just to get it out of our systems and clear the air. But I'm only a substitute, and I'd rather be a good secretary than a poor substitute."

"I never realized before how perceptive you are, Liz."

She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. "Do you want to talk about it? I've got a willing ear."

So, to his surprise, he ended up telling her nearly the whole saga of Tommy Lee Gentry and Rachel Talmadge Hollis. It felt wonderful to discuss it with someone who was impartial, who neither made demands of him nor judged him.

When the story ended, she asked him matter-of-factly, "Well, you aren't going to give up now, are you?"

He was slightly taken aback by the question. "I don't want to, but she seems dead set against seeing me."