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striking. Her midnight black hair gleamed in the fancy gaslights, contrasting with the polished brass above the leather seats. She had a straight nose, sculpted cheeks, and perfect mouth, the sort that demanded a passionate kiss. Spirit lurked within her liquid dark eyes.
    â€œIf you’re thinking of trying your luck”—her voice was husky with threat—“don’t. I’m not big on men right now.”
    Sid shook his head, sighed, and leaned back, stretching out his arm. “No way, Chris.”
    The faintest trace of a smile ghosted around her full lips. “Then why would you bring me here?” She indicated the plush restaurant. “It’s fancy and expensive, Sid. What’s your game?” She narrowed an eye. “Your wife know you’re here? With me?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œReally?” Christal leaned forward, dark locks spilling over her shoulders. “And just what does she know about me?”
    â€œEverything.”
    A dark deviltry danced in her eyes. “Everything?”
    â€œYep. I told Claire I was going out to dinner with a beautiful femme fatale who’d been busted across the chops for something that might have been a simple mistake under other circumstances.”
    Christal leaned back then, suspicion in her eyes. “So, what’s the gig?”
    As the waiter stepped up, book in hand, Sid said, “I’d like the New York cut, medium well, baked potato, and Ranch dressing.”

    â€œThe buffalo tenderloin special.” Christal shot Sid a sly glance to see if he would recoil at the price. “Medium rare with garlic mashed and a Caesar salad with lots of anchovy.”
    The waiter stepped away, and she made a chastising gesture with one slim hand. “Normally, in a place like this, the woman is supposed to order first, you know?”
    Sid yawned, scratched under his chin, and said, “Yeah. So, I’m a barbarian.” He paused. “How you been?”
    â€œGive me a break! How do you think I’ve been? I feel like hammered shit. When I finally get to sleep, I dream that last meeting in the director’s office. I see that son of a bitch sitting there staring at his hands like he was a boy caught shoplifting.” She shook her hair back. “I feel like I’ve been trashed, Sid. I feel like … Hell, I don’t know what I feel like. Sick, I guess. Sick in the guts.”
    â€œHumiliated?”
    â€œHumiliated.” She rolled the drink glass with its ice back and forth. He watched her thin fingers, the bones so delicate under tanned skin. Her nails looked perfect. “I was headed for a really super career, you know.”
    At the tone in her voice, he added, “Yeah. Well, it doesn’t seem like it, but the resignation was the right thing.”
    He figured she might have given a sewer rat that same loathing look. “Really?”
    â€œYeah, they’d have spitted you and roasted you alive. You might feel like shit this way, but you’d have felt like sour vomit the other.”
    â€œGod, I’m glad you asked me to dinner! I feel so much better now.”
    â€œGood.” He flipped a card out on the table. “I hear you’re thinking about leaving DC. Going back west.”
    She picked up the card, glancing at it. “You can’t be serious?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œCut the cowboy crap. Texans and Mexicans have a very long and not so nice history, remember?”
    â€œYou’re from New Mexico.”
    â€œYeah, well Texans and New Mexicans have a long-standing thing between them, too.”

    â€œI know. If God had meant for New Mexicans to ski, he would have given them money.” Sid grinned. “I know all the old jokes.” He paused, studying her. “About that card, I know the guy. He’s always looking for good people. You’re one of the best.”
    â€œExecutive security?” she asked, slightly baffled.