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pattern in her work schedule. Well, I need to go, Lloyd. Nice seeing you.
    Can you have lunch with me? My treat.
    Josie shot him a look that said /hell no/ but her mouth said, Nows not a good time.
    We had something special, Josie. I think about you a lot. His eyes continued to scan up and down her person. You sure you havent done something different? Because you look great. I mean, you always looked nice, but you look, you know, /a lot/ better. I hope you dont take that the wrong way.
    Was that even possible? She shook her head and laughed. Okay, Lloyd, I confess. Youre right. Ive done something radically different. Im now choosy about the men I have lunch with. And the truth is, I wouldnt eat with you if I were a starving typhoon survivor and you were with the Red Cross.
    She rolled up her window and put the car in reverse. She heard Lloyd cry out but she didnt catch what he said, and worried that she might have run over his foot.
    Celestial Pet Superstores, Inc., was headquartered just outside Berkeley in a two-story office complex made of mirrored glass and shiny steel. A three-dimensional corporate logo hung over the entrance, big as a tractor-trailer. It was a globe orbited by cats, dogs, birds, fish, and small rodents that could have been either guinea pigs or gerbils, it was anybodys call. Josie entered, but before she could make it across the marble lobby, a security guard with a badge and gun headed her off. He inquired about her business.
    Ive come to see Mr. Rousseau.
    The guards bushy eyebrows knitted together. Do you have an appointment?
    In a way.
    He chuckled. What way would that be?
    Umm… Josie began to question her plan. Maybe she should have just phoned. But you cant show off a kick-ass make over over the phone, now can you? Rick said hed call me, but never did.
    The guard looked at her quizzically. So youre a stalker?
    No, Im a reporter.
    Wrong answer. He marched over to the security desk and dialed up the public relations department. He checked Josies press ID and her drivers license, made her sign a visitor log, clipped a temporary badge to the strap of her bag, and gave her directions.
    She took the elevator but skipped the PR office entirely and headed toward a set of unmarked glass doors that screamed executive suite. The reception area inside was empty so she headed down an interior hallway.
    A huge man nearly crashed into her.
    May I help you? His eyes darted to her visitors badge.
    Josie looked up, up, and up some more. Huge really didnt cover it. The guy was a giant. Close to seven feet tall. Blackest of black skin. Shiny bald head. A diamond stud the size of a blueberry in his right ear.
    Rick Rousseau, please, she croaked.
    The man stiffened, as though he were alarmed by her request. Im afraid hes unavailable. How did you get in here?
    May I speak to his secretary?
    That would be me.
    She laughed. She didnt mean to be rude, and she knew it was well into the twenty-first century and there was no such thing as typical anymore, but shed never seen a secretary of his proportions. I just need a moment of his time, she said, composing herself.
    Thats not going to be possi A big mahogany door opened and out stepped Rick, focused on a stack of papers in his hand. He wore a pair of olive green hiking shortsthe kind with a hundred pocketsrunning shoes without socks, and a Barenaked Ladies concert T-shirt. His hair had grown a little longer, and he hadnt shaved.
    God, the man was even hotter than she remembered.
    Hi, Rick. Josie peeked around the freakishly large secretary whod just blocked her approach.
    Ricks head snapped up, and he blinked at her with those ocean-green eyes. She watched as he flipped through his mental Rolodex in an attempt to recall who she was and why in the world she was standing in his hallway. She was about to help him but it turned out not to be necessary.
    Josie, he said, shifting from a look of surprise to outright curiosity.
    Your hair is styled differently. And I can see you