ichard ushered Sweeney out onto the sidewalk, leaving Candra weeping in the lobby. He had driven himself, she saw as he led her down the street to where he had parked the Mercedes. The neighborhood wasn't the best, sort of residential going-to-seed, but neither was it the sort where such a car left parked on the street would be stripped bare within ten minutes.

They were both silent as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for her. She got in, trying to think what she could say. She had just learned more about Candra, and the reasons for their divorce, than she had ever wanted to know. She was a little shaken, but more for Richard's sake than her own.

He pulled the car out into traffic. "I'm sorry," he said gruffly, after another minute of silence. "I know one of the reasons you didn't want to get involved with me was because you wanted to avoid scenes like that."

"It wasn't your fault; it was hers." The traffic light ahead of them turned green. She looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry, too. About—about the abortion. I didn't know."

"She did it over two years ago," His mouth was a grim line. "I didn't find out about it until right after you moved to the city. I put her out of the town house right then, and filed for divorce the next day."

"You wanted children?" Stupid, she berated herself. Of course he had wanted the child, even after the fact, or he wouldn't have been so upset on learning about the abortion.

"Not by then. Not with her. Her pregnancy was an accident. But once she was pregnant—that was different. It existed. It was my child."

Sweeney couldn't imagine being Richard's wife and aborting his child. She had never thought of children in relation to herself, period. She especially couldn't imagine her father caring what happened to any of his offspring, unborn or born. "How did you find out?"

"She told me. We were arguing, she was drinking—she told me."

The second traffic light turned green as they approached. He glanced at her. "I think I need you in the car with me from now on."

Understanding that he needed to change the subject, she relaxed back against the seat. "Where are we going?"

"To a little diner I know, nothing fancy."

"Good. I don't do fancy very well."

The little diner was across the river in New Jersey. They made it to and through the Holland tunnel in record time, which made Sweeney feel a little smug. If he had doubted her about the traffic lights, he couldn't now.

They managed to snag a booth in the diner, which couldn't have changed much since the 1950s. Over eggs and coffee she said, "I thought the gallery was Candra's."

"She ran it. I own it."

"You were going to buy one of my paintings from your own gallery? And pay commission?"

He shrugged. "If Candra doesn't sign the papers by the deadline and I keep the gallery, commission doesn't come into it. She'll sign, though. It's in her best interest."

"What if she doesn't? She was furious to find you with me, and she might make the divorce as difficult as possible."

"I'd break her," he said softly. "She wouldn't have a dime left, and she knows it."

Something else occurred to her. "I wonder why she was going to my apartment."

"She isn't stupid, and she knows me too well. She could tell I was interested in you, that day in the gallery, and she figured it out almost immediately. A few days ago she came to the town house and made an offer: if I upped the settlement amount, she wouldn't prevent any future sales of your work. She didn't like my counter offer."

"I can imagine." And she could; Richard would make a dangerous enemy. "But still, why come to me?"

"To ask you to convince me to raise the settlement."

"Then why act so shocked to see us together, if she already thought we were involved?"

"Until then, she was just guessing. And thinking I was interested in you isn't the same as seeing us together so early in the morning, at your apartment."

Not to mention Candra had immediately realized Richard's presence thwarted her plan to ask Sweeney for assistance. Sweeney said, "I've made things more difficult for you, haven't I?"

"By existing? Yeah, you have." He eyed her over the table. "You keep me awake nights, you worry me, you drive me crazy."

She nudged his leg with her toe. "I'm serious."

"So am I, sweetie."

She frowned at him, diverted. "You're saying my name funny. What're you doing to it?"

"Nothing," he said, but he smiled.

Deciding she wasn't going to get anything out of him right now, Sweeney looked out the window of the diner, indulging herself for a moment by watching faces. A stooped old man, with tufts of hair on his ears and in his nostrils, walked by holding the hand of a chattering preschooler, a little girl wearing a dainty yellow sundress and a perky ponytail. The indulgent smile on his face shouted "grandfather." Or maybe "great-grandfather." Next was a young woman carrying her toddler in a backpack. She strode along as if she had a world to conquer, but she had tied a red balloon to the frame of the backpack and the baby's chubby little hand had managed to grab the string; he was staring in wonder at the balloon, which bobbed every time he moved. His eyes were round, his lips a perfect pink bow, and his cornsilk hair stood straight out like a dandelion. Sweeney watched until they were out of sight.

She applied herself to her eggs for a moment, then snorted as she remembered something.

"What?" Richard said, and she marveled at how fast they had settled into the shorthand communication of longtime couples.

" 'Beer-swilling, country-fried little southern girls,' " she said, and they both began laughing.

Candra couldn't stop crying, even though she knew it was stupid. She caught a taxi to the gallery, blubbering all the while. The cabdriver kept eyeing her f the mirror, but he didn't speak much English and she made it a point not to encourage chatty cabdrivers anyway.

She had one tissue in her purse, and it was inadequate for the repair job needed. She blotted her eyes instead of wiping them, to keep from destroying the remnants of her makeup, but more damn tears kept falling.

Damn him. Damn Sweeney. Damn both of them, for looking so… so together. She couldn't believe Sweeney, of all people, could be so sly and sneaky, or could lie so effectively. When Candra remembered her phone call to Sweeney the morning after the McMillan fiasco, she burned with humiliation. Richard had probably been with her then; they might have just gotten out of bed, and afterward they had laughed probably about the phone call.

Candra hurt, in a way she had never imagined she could hurt. Until now, though she had known she had lost him, in a way he had still been hers, because no one else had taken her place. Now someone had, and she knew, finally, irrevocably, deep in her bones, that Richard was gone. She had lost him, thrown him away, and she would never love anyone else the way she loved him. Still loved him, even now. He was the strongest person she had ever known and she couldn't stop admiring him even when that strength was turned against her. Was Sweeney capable of understanding, of appreciating what she had, or was she so damn inexperienced she had no idea?

That inexperience was what had drawn Richard to her, of course, because God knows she had no style, and her conversation often bordered on the absurd. He had even admitted as much. Candra couldn't understand what men saw in her, but even Kai said Sweeney was "cool." She was pretty enough, Candra supposed, if you could overlook the fact that she often had paint in her hair and didn't know what day of the week it was.

She couldn't imagine Richard finding that attractive. He was so organized, so logical and work-oriented, she would have thought Sweeney would drive him mad within two days.

Her nails dug into her palms. Today Sweeney had… glowed. Candra closed her eyes against the remembered shock of stepping out of the elevator and seeing Richard and Sweeney together. Sweeney wore the look of a woman who had been well and truly loved the night before, and perhaps that morning, too—and, knowing Richard, several times during the night.

Candra couldn't believe she had made such a fool of herself. Screaming like a fishwife, crying, for God's sake. Richard had known why she was there, of course. Now she wouldn't have any chance of getting to Sweeney, not that Sweeney was likely to listen to her after that little scene. She had blown her last chance to get the settlement reinstated. Now her only hope was Carson, and it looked as if he needed nudging.

Kai had just opened the gallery when she got there; no customers had come in yet, thank God. She paid the cab and hurried through the door before anyone she knew saw her.

Kai stared at her, eyebrows lifted. "Rough morning?" he silkily inquired.

"Go to hell." She sailed past him into her office and got her cosmetic bag from the desk, then went into the bathroom. She winced when she looked in the mirror. Her face was blotched, her nose red, and her eyes looked like raccoon eyes. She needed to completely remove her makeup and start over, but she didn't have any cream with her. She did the best she could with wet paper napkins, and applied cool compresses to her eyes and face to take down the swelling and even out her color.

Kai sauntered in as she was reapplying her foundation. "Do you mind?" she snapped.

He ignored her protest and propped his rear end beside her on the vanity, crossing his arms over his chest. "There, there. What's Richard done now?"

"What makes you think this is about Richard?" She blew her nose and threw the tissue in the trash, then repaired the smudges.

He watched her take out her compact and dab powder over her face. "Because he's been making you dance to his tune for a year now, and you have a temper tantrum every time things don't go your way."

" I do not 'dance to his tune', or anyone else's, " she said furiously.

"Of course not, darling."

"I'm not your darling, and don't forget it. You're just an occasional lay."

"My, we are in a snit, aren't we? He must have refused to reinstate the settlement."

She whirled on him, mouth working with rage. "How do you know anything about the settlement?"

"There was a message from your lawyer on the answering machine. She strongly advises you to sign the papers posthaste, before you lose your ass and can't pay her. She didn't say so in so many words, of course, but that's what she means."

"How dare you listen to my messages!" She sounded like a Victorian maiden, she thought in disgust.

"It was on your business machine, darling, not your home machine. Perhaps you should instruct your attorney not to leave personal messages at work—assuming you'll be here much longer, that is."

"If I am, you can bet you won't be, pretty boy," she snarled. She jerked open the door. "Get out."

He went, with a sulky look on his pretty face. Candra took a deep breath, fighting the urge to sit down on the toilet lid and bawl. She had to get control of herself. She had totally ruined things this morning by being emotional, and now she would have to pacify Kai. She didn't feel like having sex, but it would probably take that to get him over his pout.

She took several deep breaths, and when she felt steady again, she finished her makeup. When she was finished, she critically studied herself in the mirror and dabbed more powder on a blotch. There. Her makeup wasn't perfect, but she knew she still looked better than most women would after a day at a salon.

She had to call Olivia, she realized; she had been a fool to put off signing the papers these few days, thinking she could somehow recoup what Richard had already deducted. She couldn't. She accepted that now. Richard had known, of course, that she would rage and protest against his conditions, but in the end accept them; he had left her no other choice. He didn't bluff and she knew it. Richard was one of those say-what-you-mean and mean-what-you-say people, the bastard.

She almost started crying again, but took a deep breath and controlled the urge. Walking briskly, she went into her office, closed the door, and called her attorney.

"Set up an appointment," she said calmly. "I'll sign. I assume the punitive action stops as soon as you call Gavin Welles?"

"I'll make certain it does, if I can't get an appointment for today. The papers will have to be redone and that will take some time, so it might be put off until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is fine," Candra said. Of course a new agreement would have to be drawn up, to reflect the deduction in the settlement amount. She had no doubt Richard had already called his attorney instructing him to draw up papers concerning his new condition about Sweeney. That wouldn't go in the divorce agreement, but some sort of legal agreement would be reached allowing Sweeney a clean break from the gallery.

After hanging up with Olivia, Candra flipped through her Rolodex and found the McMillans' number. A maid answered, of course. "Has the senator returned from Washington yet?"

"Yes, ma'am, he has. May I say who is calling?"

"Candra Worth." There was no point in hiding her identity, she thought. Carson was more likely to take the call if he knew who she was; he wouldn't like it, but he would do it.

She was on hold for several minutes, long enough that she was beginning to get angry when Carson's richly modulated voice finally came on, except today it wasn't so modulated. It sounded rather tight, she thought with satisfaction. Good. That meant he was worried.

"What do you want?" he said abruptly.

Candra managed a light laugh. Actually, it felt good to be the one in control for a change. "Really, Carson, that's a silly question. "

"Raising that kind of money in cash isn't easy."

"How difficult can it be? Sell a few stocks, cash in a few bonds, dip into a few accounts. You can't put me off with that excuse. If you don't have the money by tomorrow afternoon, a photograph will be at The Washington Post first thing the next morning. Let's see, which picture should I choose? The one of you snorting coke, I think."

"I want you to know this conversation is being taped," he said, his voice full of satisfaction. "You are now on record attempting blackmail. Is that a felony? You know, I rather think it is. I believe, my dear, we now have each other by the short hairs."

"Do we?" Carson would have benefited from having encountered Richard's style of negotiating, Candra thought grimly. Make the stakes too high for the other person to tolerate, and don't back down. It was a brutally effective tactic. "You don't quite understand my position. If I don't get that money, I lose everything, so I don't give a damn what you've taped. You have heard the old saw about desperate people and desperate measures, haven't you?"

"You fucking—"

"Now, now, let's be civilized." She'd had enough scenes for one day.

"Civilized, my ass." He was breathing heavily, the sound echoing in her ear.

"Face it, Carson; the only way you can use that tape is if those photographs have been made public, which is too late for you. Your career would be in the toilet. We would both lose, but if you don't come through with the money, I've lost anyway, so I might as well take you down with me." Her voice was cool, controlled. She meant every word.

He knew it, too. There was more heavy breathing before he accepted the inevitable. "All right, goddamn you. But tomorrow is too soon. It'll take at least two days to get that kind of cash."

"Day after tomorrow, then, but not a day longer."

At his desk, Kai smiled, and carefully timed his disconnect to coincide with Candra's so she wouldn't see the telltale light above her line stay on a second too long. He had perfected the art of eavesdropping over the years he had worked for her, just to keep the upper hand. She thought she had control, of course, but only because he had allowed her to think it.

So the little bitch was trying her hand at blackmail. He shouldn't be surprised, because he knew Richard had her over a barrel and Candra wasn't a woman who could do without money.

When she signed the divorce agreement, the gallery would become hers. She would probably fire him as she had threatened, he thought. Things were fine with her as long as he kept his mouth shut and performed on cue in bed, but he was tired of being her whore.

She sailed out of her office, all smiles now. "Darling," she said, coming over to his desk and lightly placing her hand on the back of his neck. "I'm so sorry I snapped at you. You were right; I had a fight with Richard and I took it out on you."

Now she would offer sex to pacify him, he thought cynically.

She lightly stroked her fingers through his hair. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" Her tone was light, teasing, seductive.

He stood, moving away from her touch. "That isn't necessary, " he said, at his most polite. He would have taken her up on the offer if he hadn't had an appointment at lunchtime and needed to be fresh for that. Too bad, he thought. He would have enjoyed being rough with her, maybe even rougher than she liked.

"Don't pout, darling; it isn't attractive."

He shrugged his disinterest. "I'm not in the mood."

"Nonsense, you're always in the mood."

"Maybe I'm getting picky," he said, and watched her temper flare. Candra didn't deal well with rejection. She was truly a beautiful woman, he thought, so beautiful she had always been able to get any man she wanted. Richard's rejection of her had startled her, shaken her out of her complacency, and now her lowly assistant was refusing her offer. Her world must be wobbling off its axis.

"Then enjoy your sulk," she said, her lips tight. "Oh, by the way. Get Sweeney's new pieces back from the framer. We won't be displaying her work anymore."

"Really." Interested in this latest development, he raised his eyebrows. "That's a shame, since her new stuff is better than anything she's ever done before. What's the problem?"

Her perfect fingernails tapped a tattoo on his desk. "Just a small complication. I found her and Richard together this morning."

Oho! Kai threw back his head and laughed. It wasn't the most politic thing to do, but the image was just so delicious. "So that's what ruffled your feathers! Did you catch them doing the nasty?"

She was annoyed that he'd laughed, he could tell. If her lips got any tighter, they would disappear. "I caught him coming out of her apartment. He must have spent the night. "

Kai whistled. "He's a fast worker. I wouldn't tag Sweeney as an easy lay, so he must have put some effort into getting her." He put admiration into his tone, knowing Candra would be infuriated. "I wouldn't mind taking her for a ride myself."

"I don't see the attraction." The words were so stiff, they would barely come out of her mouth.

"You mean other than those big blue eyes and all that hair? Well, her tits are nice. They aren't very big, but they don't sag at all, and her ass is fine—"

"I don't need a rundown," Candra snapped, whirling away from the desk and going back into her office. Kai laughed softly. He was turned on, he realized. He liked baiting Candra, and envisioning Sweeney's body, imaging her naked, was exciting.

He kept that pleasant heat all during the morning, even while he was assisting some tourists from Omaha who wanted some "real art," in their words, to take back to Nebraska with them. Knowing instinctively what they wouldn't like, he steered them away from the abstract and modern, and smiled to himself as he showed them the last piece Sweeney had in the gallery. Candra would be furious if they bought it.

They did, to his delight.

At twelve-thirty he left the gallery and walked the eleven blocks to his apartment. A hotel would have been more convenient, but the woman he was meeting was afraid she would be recognized at a hotel. He had given her his key and knew she would be waiting for him. He would probably be late getting back to work, he thought.

She was cautious; she had relocked the door. He knocked once, and watched the peephole darken as she put her eye to it. She opened the door.

"Kai, darling, you're late."

Kai smiled. She had already taken off her clothes and was wearing his robe, the one he himself never wore but kept because women seemed to think they looked sexy in it. The belt was loosely tied, of course, and the robe open just enough to show most of one breast. She was in good shape, for a woman old enough to be his mother. There was no telling how many lifts and tucks a cosmetic surgeon had done on her.

"You look beautiful," he said as he took her in his arms and undid the robe, pushing it off her shoulders. Margo McMillan arched her fashionably thin body, offering him her breasts, and Kai performed as expected.