On Friday morning kelly took Angel down to Philippe Cendre's apartment.

Kelly handed the superintendent some paper bags. 'Here's Angel's favourite food and some toys for her to play-'

Philippe stepped back, and behind him Kelly saw a pile of dog toys on the floor.

Kelly laughed. 'Angel, you're in good hands.' She gave the puppy a final hug. 'Good-bye, Angel. Thank you so much, Philippe.'

As Kelly was leaving, Nicole Paradis, the switchboard operator at the apartment building, was standing at the door to say good-bye. An ebullient gray-haired woman, she was so tiny that when she was seated behind her desk, only the top of her head was visible.

She smiled at Kelly and said, 'We will miss you, Madame. Please hurry back to us.'

Kelly took her hand. 'Thank you. I'll be back soon, Nicole.' And, minutes later, she was on her way to the airport.

The Charles de Gaulle airport was crowded beyond belief, as always. It was a surrealistic maze of ticket counters, shops, restaurants, stairways, and giant escalators crawling up and down like prehistoric monsters.

When Kelly arrived, the airport manager escorted her to a private lounge. Forty-five minutes later, her flight was announced. As Kelly started toward the boarding gate, a woman standing nearby watched her go through the gate. The moment Kelly was out of sight, the woman picked up her cell phone and made a call.

Kelly sat in her airplane seat, thinking about Mark, oblivious to the fact that most of the men and women in the cabin were covertly staring at her. What was Mark doing on the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower at midnight? Who was he going to meet? And why? And the worst question of all-Why would Mark commit suicide? We were so happy together. We loved each other so much. I don't believe he killed himself. Not Mark. . . not Mark. . . not Mark. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back. . . .

It was their first date. She had dressed for the evening in a prim black skirt and a high-necked white blouse so that Mark would not get the idea that she was trying to tempt him in any way. This was just going to be a casual, congenial evening. Kelly found that she was nervous. Because of the unspeakable thing that had happened to her when she was a child, Kelly had not socialized with any men except for business reasons or obligatory charity events.

Mark isn't really a date, Kelly kept telling herself. He and I are just going to be friends. He can be my escort around town, and there won't be any romantic complications. Even as she was thinking it, the doorbell rang.

Kelly took a hopeful breath and opened the door. Mark stood there, smiling, holding a box and a paper bag. He was wearing an ill-fitting gray suit, a green shirt, a bright red tie, and brown shoes. Kelly almost laughed aloud. The fact that Mark had no sense of style was somehow endearing. She had known too many men whose egos were involved in how elegant they thought they looked.

'Come in,' Kelly said.

'I hope I'm not late.'

'No, not at all.' He was twenty-five minutes early.

Mark handed Kelly the box. 'This is for you.'

It was a five-pound box of chocolates. Over the years Kelly had been offered diamonds and furs and penthouses, but never chocolates. Exactly what every model needs, she thought, amused. Kelly smiled. 'Thank you.'

Mark held out the bag. 'And these are treats for Angel.' As if on cue, Angel came bouncing into the room and ran up to Mark, her tail wagging.

Mark picked Angel up and petted her. 'She remembers me.'

'I really want to thank you for her,' Kelly said. 'She's a wonderful companion. I've never had one before.'

Mark looked at Kelly, and his eyes said it all.

The evening went unexpectedly well. Mark was a charming companion, and Kelly was touched by how obviously thrilled he was to be with her. He was intelligent and easy to talk to, and the time went by more quickly than Kelly had antic.i.p.ated.

At the end of the evening, Mark said, 'I hope we can do this again.'

'Yes. I would like that.'

'What's your favourite thing to do, Kelly?'

'I enjoy soccer games. Do you like soccer?'

A blank look came over Mark's face. 'Oh-er-yes. I-I love it.'

He's such a poor liar, Kelly thought. A mischievous idea came into her head. 'There's a championship game Sat.u.r.day night. Would you like to go?'

Mark swallowed and said weakly, 'Sure. Great.'

When the evening was over and they arrived back at Kelly's apartment building, Kelly found herself tensing. This was always the moment for: How about a good-night kiss?. . . Why don't I come in for a bit, and we'll have a nightcap. . . . You don't want to spend the night alone. . . .

As they reached Kelly's door, Mark looked at her and said, 'Do you know what I first noticed about you, Kelly?' Kelly held her breath. Here it comes, she thought: You have a great a.s.s. . . . I love your b.o.o.bs. . . . I'd like to have your long legs wrapped around my neck. . . .

'No,' Kelly said icily. 'What did you first notice?'

'The pain in your eyes.'

And before she could reply, Mark said, 'Good night.'

And Kelly watched him leave.

CHAPTER 13.When mark arrived on Sat.u.r.day night, he brought another box of candy and a large paper bag. 'The candy is for you. The treats are for Angel.'

Kelly took the bags. 'I thank you, and Angel thanks you.'

She watched Mark petting Angel and asked innocently, 'Are you looking forward to the game?'

Mark nodded and said enthusiastically, 'Oh, yes.'

Kelly smiled. 'Good. So am I.' She knew that Mark had never even seen a soccer game.

The Paris St-Germain stadium was packed to capacity, with sixty-seven thousand eager fans waiting for the championship game between Lyon and Ma.r.s.eille to begin.

As Kelly and Mark were ushered to their seats directly above mid-field, Kelly said, 'I'm impressed. These seats are hard to get.'

Mark smiled and said, 'When you love soccer as much as I do, nothing is impossible.'

Kelly bit her lip to keep from laughing. She could not wait for the game to begin.

At two o'clock, both teams entered the stadium, standing at attention while the band played the Ma.r.s.eillaise, the French national anthem. As the line-ups for Lyon and Ma.r.s.eille faced the stands for introductions, a player for Lyon stepped forward, wearing the Lyon logo in the team colours of blue and white.

Kelly decided to relent and let Mark know what was happening. She leaned toward him. 'That's their goalie,' Kelly explained. He s- 'I know,' Mark said. 'Gregory Coupet. He's the best goalie in the league. He won a championship against Bordeaux last April. He won a UEFA Cup and a Champion League the year before that. He's thirty-one years old, six feet tall, and weighs a hundred and eighty pounds.'

Kelly looked at Mark in astonishment.

The announcer continued. 'Playing forward, Sidney Gouvou . . .'

'Number fourteen,' Mark enthused. 'He's incredible. Last week, against Auxerre, he scored a goal in the last minute of the game.'

Kelly listened in amazement as Mark knowledgably discussed all the other players.

The game began and the crowd went wild.

It was a frenzied, exciting game, and goalies for both teams fought hard to keep their opponents from scoring. It was difficult for Kelly to concentrate. She kept looking at Mark, amazed by his expertise. How could I have been so wrong?

In the middle of a play, Mark exclaimed, 'Gouvou's going for a flick kick! He made it!'

A few minutes later, Mark said, 'Watch! Carriere's going to be fined for handling the ball.'

And he was right.

When Lyon won, Mark was euphoric. 'What a great team!'

As they were leaving the stadium, Kelly asked, 'Mark-how long have you been interested in soccer?'

He looked at Kelly sheepishly and said, 'About three days. I've been researching it on my computer. Since you were so interested, I thought I should learn about it.'

And Kelly was incredibly touched. It was unbelievable that Mark had spent so much time and effort just because she enjoyed the game.

They had made a date for the following day, after Kelly finished a modelling a.s.signment.

'I can pick you up at your dressing room and-'

'No!' She did not want him to meet the other models.

Mark was looking at her, puzzled.

'I mean-there's a rule that men aren't allowed in the dressing rooms.'

'Oh.'

Kelly was really thinking, I don't want you to fall in love with- * * *

'Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts and return your seat backs and trays to their upright and locked positions. We're approaching Kennedy airport and we'll be landing in just a few minutes.'

Kelly was jolted back to the present. She was in New York to meet Tanner Kingsley, the man whom Mark had worked for.

Someone had informed the media. When the plane landed, they were waiting for Kelly. She was surrounded by reporters with television cameras and microphones.

'Kelly, would you look this way?'

'Can you tell us what you think happened to your husband?'

'Is there going to be a police investigation?'

'Were you and your husband planning a divorce?'

'Are you moving back here to the States?'

'How did you feel when you heard what happened?'

The most insensitive question of all.

Kelly saw a pleasant-faced, alert-looking man standing in the background. He smiled and waved to Kelly and she motioned for him to come over to her.

Ben Roberts was one of the most popular and respected talk-show hosts on network television. He had interviewed Kelly before, and they had become friends. She watched as Ben made his way through the crowd of reporters. They all knew him.

'Hey, Ben! Is Kelly going to be on your show?'

'Do you think she'll talk about what happened?'

'Can I get a picture of you and Kelly?'

By this time, Ben had reached Kelly's side. The tide of reporters was pushing against them. Ben called out, 'Let's give her a break, boys and girls. You can talk to her later.'

Reluctantly, the reporters began to give way.

Ben took Kelly's hand and said, 'I can't tell you how sorry I am. I liked Mark so much.'

'That was mutual, Ben.'

As Kelly and Ben made their way toward the baggage claim area, he asked, 'Off the record, what are you doing in New York?'

'I'm here to see Tanner Kingsley.'

Ben nodded. 'He's a powerful man. I'm sure you'll be well taken care of.'

They had reached the baggage counter. 'Kelly, if there is anything I can do for you, you can always reach me at the network.' He looked around. 'Are you being picked up? If not, I'll-'

At that moment, a uniformed chauffeur came up to Kelly. 'Mrs. Harris? I'm Colin. The car is right outside. Mr. Kingsley has checked you into a suite at the Peninsula Hotel. If you'll give me your tickets, I'll attend to your luggage.'

Kelly turned to Ben. 'Will you call me?'

'Of course.'