Foreword
Collapsed now, her arms still around Harry's neck, Lena felt the relief and release from tension flowing through her like cooling water. Slowly her breathing returned to normal. Harry held her tenderly, gently stroking her smooth-skinned back.
Finally, she eased herself to a standing position. "Don't put on the lights until I get dressed, Harry."
While she was gone, Harry dressed and fixed himself a drink. When she came out of the bathroom, he was sitting in her swivel chair with his feet propped on her desk.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
"Celebrating."
She frowned. "Celebrating what."
"Our partnership."
" ... get out of that chair. Get out of this office. You're fired."
"Very well, Lena. But I could pass the word around that you're not so cold as you pretend. They don't try to get to you, but if they knew what I knew..."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you do, Lena. Now I'm sure you do. Seeing other people in action breaks down all your inhibitions..."
She sobbed for several minutes. "Harry," she said, getting some control again, "you couldn't make anybody believe a story like that. And even if you did, how could anyone arrange something like that for me to see."
"You'd be surprised. You see I arranged tonight's little show."