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that night. She told herself that it was just another dinner meeting with a client, and she had had enough of those while she was working as an intern at a Boston legal firm. But this client was Bram, and she wavered between a steadfast refusal to dress for him and the temptation to select her most flattering outfit and look her best.
    To her own disgust vanity won, and she emerged from her bedroom at seven o’clock dressed in a royal blue silk shirtwaist that enhanced her eyes and the creamy blush on her light skin. Her hair was pulled back into a topknot and then cascaded to her shoulders, revealing pearl earrings. A camel bag and matching sling-back pumps completed the ensemble. While Beth knew she wasn’t overdressed for the occasion, she also knew that she had devoted more care to her toilette than usual. She shrugged lightly as she made her way outside to her car. She wasn’t sixteen anymore, and her father wasn’t going to punish her for displaying an interest in the black sheep of the Curtis family. She was on her own.
    The drive to Hartford took about twenty-five minutes, and she was right on time as she approached the attendant inside the lounge of the restaurant.
    “I’m meeting Mr. Curtis,” she said, and was led to a table for two by the window. Bram rose at her approach.
    He was dressed in a charcoal gray lightweight jacket that called attention to his dark good looks, with pants of a lighter gray and an off-white shirt with a navy tie. The lamplight reflected the sheen of his gleaming black hair and the glint of his gold cufflinks. Beth looked around nervously. The atmosphere was a little too subdued and romantic for her comfort.
    “You look very pretty,” Bram said as he pulled out her chair.
    “Thank you,” she said properly, a grade schooler reacting politely to a teacher’s praise.
    Bram didn’t miss the implication of her tone, and as if to demonstrate that his motives were exactly as represented, he put a file on the table in front of her the minute she was seated.
    “Take a look at that,” he said, “and tell me if you think that Matheson has been giving my father’s company short shrift.”
    Bram summoned the steward and ordered wine while Beth perused the file. After she had read the documents and asked Bram some pertinent questions she had to admit that she agreed with him.
    “Will you take the account then?” Bram asked.
    The waiter appeared to take their order, and after he left Bram eyed her expectantly. “Well?” he persisted.
    Beth took a sip of the Chablis Bram had selected, and discovered that it was very good.
    “I feel I should tell you that I’ve never done this type of work before,” Beth hedged. “The firm I clerked for handled mostly wills and divorces, that type of thing.”
    “But you could do it, couldn’t you? With some research?”
    “Yes, I suppose so,” Beth replied warily.
    “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” Bram said sarcastically. He reached over and closed the file in front of Beth, pulling it to his side of the table. “Forget it. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
    Beth looked down at her linen napkin, saying nothing.
    “You certainly have turned into the citadel of caution, haven’t you?” he went on acerbically. “Whatever happened to that enchanting teenager who grabbed for life with both hands?”
    “I grew up and left her behind,” Beth replied.
    He shook his head. “No, I think you buried her under an avalanche of law books and suspicion. She’s still there, but she needs to be coaxed out of her hiding place.”
    Beth raised her blue eyes to his brown ones. “By whom?” she asked softly.
    “By me,” he replied, “if you’ll give me the chance.”
    Beth stood, her purse sliding from her lap and hitting the floor. “You had your chance,” she said abruptly, and turned from the table, almost colliding with the astonished waiter, who dodged her nimbly, balancing their tray of food. Beth bent and retrieved her bag, heading for the