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all work to her advantage. She’d managed to get her way to a certain degree with Jeremy via a well-timed smile or a bit of flattery, and Jeremy had been as dried up as an Egyptianmummy. Imagine what she could do with someone as obviously…attentive to her femininity as Dylan. Max smiled in spite of herself. Oh yes, the situation had possibilities.
    Dylan studied her. “So it looks like we might be in agreement. Maybe this little partnership holds promise after all.”
    â€œYou know, I think it does,” Max purred. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
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    The baseball darted across home plate and landed in the catcher’s club with a smack.
    â€œBall,” the umpire said crisply.
    â€œOh, come on, ump, ring ’im up,” begged a fan.
    Dylan sat behind home plate at Portland’s Hadlock Field and watched the hometown Portland Seadogs battle it out with the Harrisburg Senators. The arc lamps flooded the grass and red clay of the field with light. Hot dogs and popcorn scented the air. In the row ahead of Dylan, a young daughter sat in her father’s lap, energetically waving a puffy hand.
    Dubai had golden sand beaches, turquoise water, beautiful women and near year-round sun. The thing it didn’t have, Dylan thought, was baseball.
    The batter got a third strike to end the inning and the players filed off the field. The sound system swung into “YMCA.” On the dugout roofs, two members of the entertainment staff led the dance while around the stadium, children stood to join in.
    You had to love the minor leagues, Dylan thought.
    â€œI see you at least kept the score reasonable until I got here,” said a voice from beside him. Dylan looked up to see Neal Eberhard, his friend since fourth grade, hands full of hot dogs and beer. “Sorry I’m late,” Neal added.
    Dylan reached up to take the food carrier from his friend so he could sit. “No problem. I figured you couldn’t get your hall pass validated.”
    â€œNo, even better. We got everybody fed and I was just getting ready to go when Ronnie puked all over himself.”
    â€œSorry to hear he’s sick. Nothing serious, I hope. Or contagious.”
    â€œNah, he just coughed too hard.” Neal grinned and handed Dylan a hot dog. “He’s gotten to be quite an expert at it. I think he has a future in Will Farrell films. So how’d we score?”
    â€œTwo-run double by Kalish. And the kid pitcher’s looking pretty good.”
    â€œAt this point, they’re all starting to look like kid pitchers.” Neal took a swallow of beer while the first Seadogs batter flied out to left field. “So, what brings Lawrence of Arabia back from lounging around with desert babes, an irate harem master?”
    Dylan thought of the Al-Aswari project, where twelve-hour days were the norm. “The prince backing the project is having a little cash flow problem. We’re on hiatus. Dad wound up short staffed on a proposal,so I figured I’d show up and see what I could do to help.”
    â€œTiming’s everything.” Neal took a bite of his hot dog.
    It wasn’t a question of timing, Dylan thought, although circumstances had certainly made it easier. The reality was, he would have figured out a way to make it happen no matter what. Especially since it was the first time his father had ever asked him for a favor.
    And Dylan owed him.
    In Hal Reynolds’s late twenties, he’d been the boy wonder of architectural circles. He’d been at a top New York firm, working on projects around the globe. Then came love, then came marriage and then came Dylan in a baby carriage. That had led to the decision to move back to Portland, Arianne Reynolds’s childhood home. For Hal, the choice between flying around the world to work on important buildings and being there to see his son’s first steps was a no-brainer.
    When it proved that nature had decided they