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proof against his powers of persuasion, and he was confident that she would succumb. Her resistance would serve as the sweetener that would enhance the taste of victory.
    He wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was attracted to her because she was different. At the same time, his intelligent reasoning would tell him it was only a surface difference. Once he got her into bed she would lose her individuality and be like any other girl.
    â€œWhat are you thinking?” he asked unexpectedly.
    Some demon of mischief made her reply with roguish honesty, “I was thinking that, when it gets down to basics, girls are as alike as peas in a pod.”
    â€œWith one qualification. Some are greener than others,” he said, matching her mischief with his quick rejoinder.
    The talk continued in this light, inconsequential vein. The atmosphere between them was unstrained, so the superficiality of the conversation didn’t matter.
    She wasn’t conscious of the direction they were taking, only that they were moving at great speed in a strange, monochrome world. The moon had trailed her fingers across the earth, draining it of color and painting everything silver. The stretch of motorway was silver, the steep embankment with its cling of stunted trees was silver, his eyes were silver, the smile on his mouth was silver, untarnished by cynicism or mockery – her thoughts were pure gold.
    The speed the car attained so effortlessly was symbolic of the speed with which their relationship was developing. Never in the whole of her life could she remember slipping into such easy compatibility with anyone. If only it didn’t have to end. If only it could go on like the road, seemingly forever. But even as the thought rested so lightly on her mind, his foot was easing off the accelerator, preparing to turn off at the next exit point.
    He parked the car alongside two giant trucks in the car park of a – transport café.
    He queried her look of surprise. “Doesn’t it appeal? I’d advise you to reserve judgment until after you’ve eaten the best steak you’ve ever tasted in your life.”
    â€œOh, it appeals to me. Very much so. It just doesn’t seem to match your lifestyle.”
    â€œNo. But it matches my humble beginnings.”
    They had left the car and were walking along the short stretch of rough ground toward the brightly lit, one-story brick and timber building. She was caught off-balance by his last remark. She had thought, by his manner of assurance and authority, that he’d always known great wealth. And yet, on reflection, she wondered why she had arrived at that conclusion. He didn’t have that cushioned-from-life, “soft” look about him. The impression she had first formed of him was that he had reached his present comfortable position by his own efforts. He saw what he wanted and he had the tenacity and drive, the determination and – yes! – the ruthlessness to get it for himself.
    That led straight into another thought, one which her brain didn’t absorb too well. He wanted her. That was as plain as the look in his eye, as the excessive familiarity of his hands when he took her in his arms after driving her home from The Black Cat. He had made a fast play for her, but he had gone back into line without argument when he realized she was not an easy pickup. He was now applying other tactics. He was moving with caution and a kind of smoldering subtleness, but, make no mistake, he still had the same end purpose in mind. He wanted to sleep with her.
    Her thoughts stalled as she stubbed her toe on a large stone. If she hadn’t lost her footing on the uneven ground, her prim soul shuddered to think where further contemplation would have taken her. Her lost footing took her straight into his arms, which automatically reached out to stop her from falling.
    His hold steadied her feet but had the reverse effect on her heart. Its quickened beat gave