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    "Of course? Oh please, Dr. Freud, do enlighten me."
    "Fantasy and reality collided. Reality is winning."
    "You really do sound like Freud."
    "I'm serious. You're attracted to him, and—"
    "Whoa, wait a minute. I am not attracted to him."
    "You're such a liar. Besides, where's the harm?"
    "Just because he's attractive doesn't mean I'm attracted to him." Paris wanted Rachel to see the difference. And she needed to convince herself there was a difference. Then Rachel's words registered. "Harm?"
    "In a little seduction," explained Rachel. "Where's the harm in that?"
    "He's not going to seduce me." Too bad, thought Paris , taking in his broad shoulders and leading man looks. She could think of worse things than being swept away by a man like that.
    "No, no," continued Rachel. "You should seduce him."
    "Oh, well that's … have you lost your mind?" Paris blustered, pulling her gaze away from Alexander.
    "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. He practically dropped out of the sky into your lap. He admits he wants to go out with you. What better way to get a boy toy?"
    "Rachel!" She'd played with the idea earlier, true. Who wouldn't have? But there was no way she'd go through with it. Really. Rachel was just being ridiculous. For one thing, Paris wasn't the seducing type. And even if she was…
    Well, she wasn't. So it didn't matter.
    Paris felt Rachel's stare, then saw the diabolical grin.
    "Uh-huh," said Rachel. "You know you want to. He's your fantasy come true." She grabbed her purse and hauled it onto her lap.
    "I'm not looking for a fantasy," Paris urged, as much to herself as her friend. "You know my plan."
    "Oh, right. Two more of these books. Sock away the money. Finish your dreary epic. Publish it under your real name. Retire Alexander. Admit to your father you're a writer, but of fine literature that won't embarrass the family name. Find a suitable man—that means boring, by the way—and have babies. The end. How could I have forgotten your brilliant plan?"
    "You're going to use a lifetime's supply of sarcasm in one sitting. And there's nothing wrong with my plan," Paris insisted, ignoring the niggling feeling that maybe there was.
    "Are you supposed to be a nun in the meantime?"
    Paris squirmed, not wanting to admit just how appealing Rachel's seduction plan sounded. Instead, she parried, figuring that the best defense was a good offense. "You're not exactly practicing what you preach," she said, then immediately regretted her words.
    Rachel shot her a tentative glance. "What's that supposed to mean?"
    Paris shrugged, not sure it was the time or the place to explore the truckload of issues surrounding Rachel's love life. To say Rachel had self-confidence issues was an understatement. An overweight, plain little girl from the wrong side of the tracks, Rachel had been teased mercilessly during grammar school. And the torment had escalated in high school after Paris had moved away. She might have grown up and slimmed down and turned into a knockout, but Paris didn't think Rachel saw her true self in the mirror. And so she overcompensated something fierce.
    "All I mean is that you've dumped the last dozen guys you've dated without so much as a good-night kiss. You're hardly the roving expert on seduction," Paris said. During their years together in college and law school, Paris had watched Rachel master the art of flirting. Now, she attracted a constant stream of men, but always cut them loose before they got too close. Paris didn't need a textbook on pop psychology to see why. Rachel couldn't handle being the one to get dumped, so she cut the possibility off at the pass. And as a result, she never got close to anyone.
    "That's completely different," Rachel insisted. "The men I date are potential relationship material. When it's obvious things won't work out, I let them down gently." Paris opened her mouth to argue, but her friend didn't let her get a word in. "Besides, I'm not suggesting you marry this guy.