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“Lance invited me for dinner on Sunday, and I came running. I looked great too — leopard stretch pants, black bodysuit with nothing underneath but Rose. I mean, I imagined candles, wine, a gourmet meal, and some extraordinary passion for dessert — you know my style. His eyes meeting mine, sudden tenderness, then a rush of irrepressible desire searing through us both.” She stopped and then sighed.
    “And?”
    “Well, that just goes to show you the difference between men and women.”
    “I’m still waiting for the good bits.”
    “Keep waiting. I’m coming to the conclusion that men don’t understand what the word romantic means. Or if they do, some lucky woman has snapped them up a long time ago. To begin with, what do you think Lance meant by dinner? Frozen pizza. No wine, no candles. No eye contact either. That was out of the question. So was conversation. Darling Lance was too busy watching the game on TV. From the time I arrived until the time I stormed out! He probably never even noticed I’d gone!”
    “And that’s the end of Lance Potter.”
    “It certainly is. So what’s his name?”
    Alice rolled her eyes heavenward. “You don’t give up, do you? Jace Constant.”
    Rose looked puzzled. “Sounds vaguely familiar. Tell me why.”
    “Because he’s a writer. He’s fairly famous, okay?”
    “Fine. This is getting better and better. The man is gorgeous, he’s famous, he’s sexy. Now, Alice, tell me what’s wrong with him?”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Why don’t you want him?”
    Alice gaped. “Is that a serious question?”
    “Why shouldn’t it be?” Rose looked all innocence.
    “I can’t believe this. For one, he’s too good looking.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Men who look that good think they’re God’s gift to females.”
    “Ridiculous! You don’t even know him yet. What’s reason number two?”
    “He’s a big city man. You should see the way he winces when he looks down and sees the desert dust on his fancy leather shoes.”
    “So?”
    Alice slapped her hands down on her thighs with exasperation. “What am I supposed to do? Go in for a quick fling? For a weekend, or a few days, or even one whole month of intimacy and trust? Then give the fling a peck on the cheek and a packed lunch when he goes back to the city and his other life? Say, well, that was a nice quickie, thanks and so long? I have my memories to keep me warm?”
    “Why not?”
    “Why not? Because a scenario like that is yours, not mine. I’m not like you. I’d end up caring. Falling in love. But you go ahead. Have a fling with Jace Constant.”
    “Right.” Rose nodded. “Sounds good. When do I get to meet him?”
    “Knowing you, Rose Badger, you’ll just drop in unexpectedly one evening.” Alice’s voice was unexpectedly dry. She knew she was being ridiculous. Yes, Rose would be most definitely Jace’s style. Rose was just about every man’s style.
    “Sure. I’ll drop in all right — if you’re so certain you don’t want him.”
    “We’re not running a cattle market here. If you’re attracted to each other, go for it. I don’t do quickie affairs. How about we change the subject now? Have you got anything new in?”
    Her curiosity temporarily satisfied, Rose was fairly easy to divert. An almost-sure way of getting her off the subject of men was to direct her onto new clothes.
    “Wait until I show you! A Mrs. Grady over in Whiteshaw had me take a look into some old trunks she had in her attic. Alice, you aren’t going to believe your eyes. Dresses! Pure 1940s, and top quality too. Silk, bias cutting, the works. There’s one in dusty burgundy that’ll just take your breath away! Come, take a look. I bet it’d even suit you.”
    “Wouldn’t it just,” said Alice laughing. “I’ve always wanted to wear silk while I’m boiling up the dog chow.”
    They had finally stopped talking about Jace — a man who spelled big trouble — and now Alice could