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pulled into another tiny curb-side parking space. The man
    had a talent for parking cars in nonexistent spaces, Abby had to admit to
    herself.
    "A woman is entitled to a few opinions," she declared regally.
    "And a man is entitled to try to change her mind on occasion," he
    responded with a grim little smile that barely shaped his mouth.
    "Are you often successful?" she challenged as she allowed him to guide
    her into the plush, dimly lit restaurant.
    "I rarely make the effort to change a woman's mind."
    "Should I be flattered?"
    "It's not a question of flattery," he explained precisely.
    "I had a feeling it wouldn't be." Laughter lit her eyes as she glanced up
    at him. "More of a business decision perhaps?"
    He stared down at her for a moment before answering. "I told you in the
    car that once I have come to a decision—slow and ponderous though the
    process may be—I do whatever is required to bring about a successful
    conclusion to the project. I've made my basic decision concerning you."
    "Is that a warning?" Some of the amusement died in her eyes.
    "No, Abby, it's a statement of fact. Take my advice and don't let it ruin
    your evening, though. We have hours and hours ahead of us. I'd hate to
    have you sulking through to the bitter end."
    "I never sulk," she assured him tranquilly. Then she turned and smiled
    brilliantly at the approaching maître d', effectively cutting off the
    conversation.
    They were led to an intimate booth, the table in front of them laid with
    gleaming silver and snowy linen. A low-voiced discussion between Torr
    and the wine steward went on for several minutes, and Abby used the
    opportunity to rummage about in her small evening bag for a couple of
    tablets.
    Torr glanced at her just as she was popping them into her mouth.
    "More stress vitamins?"
    "Calcium. Good for bones and teeth."
    "Have you tried drinking more milk instead?" he asked laconically.
    "I hate milk." She downed the tablets with several sips from the water
    goblet. Then she grinned. "I much prefer wine. What are we having
    tonight?"
    "There's a new sauvignon blanc I've been curious about that's in from
    one of my favorite California wineries. I thought it would go nicely with
    the smoked salmon and capers."
    "What smoked salmon and capers?"
    "The smoked salmon and capers we're having as an appetizer," he
    spelled out calmly.
    "I don't recall ordering an appetizer. I haven't even glanced at the
    menu!" Irritation at his presumption made her glare at him severely.
    "Anyone who eats calcium tablets as an appetizer doesn't deserve to get
    a look at the menu. How many pills do you take a day?"
    "I haven't counted," she told him frostily.
    "Are you your own best customer?"
    "Believe me, the various people who sell vitamins and minerals
    door-to-door for me have a lot of customers who take far more pills than I
    do!"
    "And you can really make a living off of this, hmmm?" He eyed her
    reflectively. "Is that your only source of income?"
    She sent him a speculative glance. "What's the matter? Do you normally
    only date rich women? Afraid I won't be able to keep you in the style to
    which you would like to become accustomed?"
    "You are getting feisty, aren't you? A few more cracks like that and I
    might leave you with the tab for tonight's dinner," he advised her blandly.
    "More threats?" she asked interestedly as the wine arrived.
    "Abby, honey, I've already explained I don't issue threats or warnings. I
    merely make statements of fact." He accepted the sample of wine, taking a
    moment to savor it carefully. Then he nodded firmly. "I asked about your
    vitamin business because I was wondering if it's full time for you."
    "My only source of income," she assured him cheerfully as the waiter
    finished pouring the wine and discreetly left. "Unless you want to count
    the shares of stock I inherited from my uncle."
    "Shares in what company?" Torr lounged back comfortably and sipped
    his wine with appreciation.
    "The one my uncle founded. Lyndon