Jan thought she heard Diane snort as she rubbed down the bar nearby.

"Now tell me all about yourself."

"What would you like to know?" Jan said. The woman was her boss, no matter what she might say, and she was also obviously flirting. Jan wasn't sure how to play it.

"Whether you're attached, of course. Surely you must be."

"No, not attached."

"That's excellent," Catherine said, waiting for more. Jan sipped her beer. "Let me ask you something a little more open-ended, and see if I can get more than five words at a time out of you."

"You don't like the silent type?" Jan said. That was flirting, she cautioned herself.

"Oh, I do. I'm just so terribly sick of my own voice right now. All those meetings today."

"Ask away, then. I'll try to help you out."

Catherine drank more. She may have been tipsy. It was hard to tell from her throaty voice and precise diction. But there was the empty bottle of wine.

"Tell me how you spend your time. When you're not investigating missing persons and the like."

Jan hated being asked to describe what her life was like. She found it strangely depressing when she put it in words. "You'll be happy to know that you've inherited a workaholic."

"You Americans seem to revel in working too hard."

"I'd say that's one of those myths that isn't based on reality. I see a lot of people who find all kinds of ways to work as little as possible."

"But you're not one of them. In fact, I suspect you're unlike most people," Catherine said.

"You've known me less than a day. How could you say that?" Jan turned to her beer.

"I'm sorry," Catherine said, looking sincerely concerned. "Did I insult you somehow? I just meant that in the best way. You're clearly, at least to me, a person of integrity. Of all the people I met today at TSI, you're the only one who seemed more concerned about doing the job than keeping a job."

Jan shrugged. There wasn't much to say to that. They were silent for a moment.

"So go on," Catherine said. "You can't work twenty-four seven. Not really."

Jan sighed. "Let's see. I work out at the gym."

"Yes. I can see that you do."

Where to go with this, Jan wondered. Catherine wasn't shy; that was obvious. It didn't really matter what they were talking about. The words were the thin veneer covering the single question on both of their minds. Would they or wouldn't they have s.e.x?

"And I read. See friends. Drink some."

"Here's to that." Catherine beamed. She took up her gla.s.s and touched it to Jan's. "And here's to a very mysterious woman."

"I'm not mysterious. I just don't have much to tell you."

"Yet. I have a feeling we'll be getting to know each other better."

Jan was usually not much intrigued by obvious flirtation, or by women who came on too strongly. She preferred the feeling of control when she picked a person to pursue. She felt freer to also choose to leave when their time together was up. The fact that Catherine was flirting and coming on to her strongly didn't dampen her interest in the least, which was a first. She worried about that.

"Tell me about yourself," Jan said. "Fair's fair."

Catherine's knees brushed along Jan's thighs as she swiveled her barstool toward her. Jan backed away and sat down.

"Let's see. Raised in London, mum and dad both doctors. Didn't see much of them, but we were happy enough. My sister, Elaine, is married and lives near Brighton, poor thing. I went to Cambridge and did a masters in information technology and economics."

Catherine seemed to change her mind about what she was about to say and stopped talking.

"Did you go to work for CGS right after school?" Jan asked.

"No, actually. I worked for the government for quite a long time."

Jan waited for more. She thought Catherine looked a little less sure of herself than she had moments before. She put her hand lightly on Catherine's forearm. She felt it jump.

"You don't have to tell me anything, you know. We're just making small talk."

"Is that what we're doing?" Catherine asked. "I was rather hoping it was something a bit more."

Jan stared at her lips as she spoke, concentrating more on how they looked than what they were saying. They were luscious lips and she watched them curl into a smile "Tell me what you think we're doing," Catherine said. She reached over to take Jan's hand.

"A second ago I would have said we were talking. Now I'd say we're playing with fire." Jan wrapped her thumb around the top of Catherine's hand and lightly rubbed; she could see the little hitch in her breath. Catherine's eyes glittered as she leaned closer to Jan.

"Because I'm technically your boss? I think Americans are much more hung up on what two consenting adults do than even the British. If we were in France, our clothes would already be off."

Jan looked around the room. "Well, I'm not French. But I'm not concerned about you being my boss either. Not if you're not. Anyway, you live in London, right?"

"Yes." Catherine now had a hand on Jan's thigh, matching the rubbing motion Jan was making on her other hand. It had taken nothing more than the sight of Catherine to flip the switch on Jan's libido and start the march of caution out the door. Now she was unbelievably turned on. All that rubbing "So you'll be gone soon and we can't really get into too much trouble."

"Well, I'd like to get into a little trouble," Catherine said.

Catherine leaned in for a kiss. As Jan met her lips her thinking stopped, mercifully, and her tongue found Catherine's. A first kiss was often such an awkward thing. When teeth clanked and heads moved the wrong way and tongues felt more at war than love, Jan often felt her desire slip away. But Catherine's mouth pressed into hers as if precision fit for it; the kiss felt like the flame of a match strikeinstantly flaring and white hot. When Jan pulled away at last, she kept Catherine's face in her hands and whispered, "My car. Your hotel."

"Yes. And quickly."

Catherine was staying at the Ritz-Carlton, an uber-luxury hotel in the heart of Chicago's Magnificent Mile. Jan fought her way through the Friday night traffic on Michigan Avenue, trying to concentrate while Catherine's hand moved up and down her thigh.

"We'll get in an accident if you keep that up."

Catherine's laugh was musical, like her voice. The cello, the bow, the thrum. Jan began to turn left on Pearson Street, completely missing the sign warning that left turns were on the arrow only. Pedestrians poured into the Pearson crosswalk, stranding her in the intersection as a cavalry of cars barreled toward them on Michigan. Horns erupted as she blocked their pa.s.sage.

Catherine removed her hand. "Perhaps you're right. I'll restrain myself."

The Ritz valet took her keys and Jan followed Catherine through one lobby, up an elevator, through another enormous and lavish lobby and up a second elevator. She trailed her silently down a long hall. The journey seemed to take forever. Her mind sagged into the certainty that the excitement of what was happening now would soon be replaced with sorrow when Catherine backed away. Not tonight, necessarily, but as soon as she found that Jan was...what? That Jan was Jan. Or that Jan wasn't Jan. She'd always a.s.sumed that letting anyone know she wasn't Jan would be a surefire end to any relationship, budding or otherwise. But being Jan seemed to do the trick all on its own.

The hotel room looked directly east over Lake Michigan, the carnival lights of Navy Pier drawing Jan's eye from the dark, endless water. As she stood at the window, Catherine approached her from behind and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"I fear you've gone from feeling to thinking," she said. "I can see it in your forehead. No good comes from thinking in these situations, you know."

She slowly turned Jan around and laced her hands behind her neck. "My mind is quite blank at the moment."

How wonderful that must be, thought Jan. Then she leaned in and kissed Catherine, determined to kick-start the arousal that she'd lost somewhere during the long journey from car to room. The kiss deepened as she cradled Catherine's head, held her close with the other hand low on her hip. They were in no hurry to move.

She had no memory of kisses like this. She'd kissed many women, usually with great pleasure, but always with some impatience to move things along to the next step. She felt she could kiss Catherine all night. But soon their bodies demanded more. She took her by the hand to the enormous bed, already turned down for the night. She unwrapped one of the chocolates lying atop the pillows, put it in Catherine's mouth, and started undressing her. Catherine made mewling sounds as Jan worked her way down, freeing the beautiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s from her bra (good genes), removing the skirt, the hose, the panties. Then she lay Catherine down on the sheets and stripped off her own clothes, draping herself over her, kissing her again and tasting the chocolate. She began to explore the glorious body; the full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the slightly rounded stomach, the curve of the hip over the long and beautifully shaped legs. Jan moved to one side and ran a hand up and down, from knee to nose. Catherine's breathing was starting to sound hungry. Jan was hungry, too.

"Please, do something," Catherine said. "I need more."

Jan's lips found a nipple and tugged at it, played with it, lightly bit down. The gasp from Catherine was sharp.

"Yes. That. More."

That voice was like direct pressure between Jan's legs. As she moved all over Catherine, she wondered if she'd come without ever being touched. With each moan from Catherine's mouth she felt a deeper twinge and she became desperate to straddle the slender thigh and ride her. It would just take a moment. But she put her fingers inside Catherine instead and watched her head move from side to side on the pillow, her eyes closed, her hands reaching behind her for the headboard. Jan lowered herself and added her mouth while keeping the fingers moving, and now Catherine's moans were loud and sustained and her body was writhing, rising up from the bed, moving as if possessed. Jan wanted to possess her, she did possess her. She stayed on her as Catherine came, until the spasms subsided and she pulled away from Jan's tongue.

She moved up quickly and straddled Catherine's thigh, moving deeply and rhythmically as she took Catherine's arms and held them over her head, their eyes now locked on each other. Jan never kept her eyes open while making love. Not before now, with Catherine. She saw the feral look in Catherine's eyes as she pushed her thigh upward to increase the pressure and soon Jan came in a long o.r.g.a.s.m that ripped sounds out of her body she'd never made before.

They lay welded together, sticky and incapable of moving. They were speechless for a long while.

"I'd say that was more than a little trouble we just got into," Catherine said.

G.o.d, yes, Jan thought.

Jan woke at ten Sat.u.r.day morning, the strong eastern sunlight pouring through the windows. She'd managed at some point during the night to untangle herself from Catherine and roll to the edge of the ship-sized mattress. She was asleep when she'd done so. No conscious part of her wanted distance from Catherine. Her unconscious self was a constant and cruel master.

She moved back over and wrapped herself around Catherine. Her body was warm like a baby's. She tried to stay still to let Catherine sleep, but her hands started to roam. Catherine turned in her arms.

"You're not much for sleeping in, are you?" she murmured.

"Not much. But it is ten o'clock."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!" Catherine threw off the covers and sprang from the bed. She stood there naked, holding her hands to the sides of her head as if it were about to fall apart. "I'm late for my meetings."

She sounded anguished, at odds with the carefree woman of the night before. Jan watched her sprint to the bathroom. It seemed morning s.e.x was off the table. She followed her and stood at the door.

"You're the new owner, remember? It's okay to be late."

Catherine was checking the temperature of the shower. She glanced at Jan.

"Not the impression I like to give. Listen, I'm sorry for this. Have them charge the valet to my room, will you?" She stepped into the shower.

Jan stared at the figure soaping herself up in the steamy water. She felt sick, dismissed. She got dressed and left the room without saying more. When she got down to the front of the hotel, she paid for her own valet parking.

Chapter Five.

Maddy peered from under her camouflaged cap at the large field dotted with obstacle courses, a rifle range, and stretches of bare ground where dozens of uniformed people were doing exercises, breaking down weapons, and throwing each other around in simulated hand-to-hand combat. It was a cloudless day, the autumn foliage brilliant in the woods surrounding the field.

She stood in a long line of men and women wearing the uniforms issued to them the hour before. Standing in front of the line addressing them was a "sergeant" named Drecker. His camos were clean but well worn, his boots shiny but with many miles on them.

"You sorry suckers have one h.e.l.l of a day ahead of you. Some of you look worn out from getting up early to drive here. Believe me, that was the best part of your day right there. By the time we finish our last field exercise in the middle of the night, you're going to wish you'd never been born."

Maddy wanted to push her cap up. It was settling on her head and the brim was covering her eyes. They were standing at ease, with hands clasped behind their backs. She must have looked like a fool, but she didn't dare move out of position.

"Unlike a full basic training in the military where a soldier's strength can be built up, we're going to have to work with what you've got, and that ain't much from the looks of things. You'll leave camp tomorrow with a written program of how to continue your conditioning."

All the people Maddy had met at David's kitchen table were here in line with her, except Ed and Warren. They'd already been through multiple training sessions with this outfit and were out making more preparations for the move. Kristi stood next to her, her piercings removed at Drecker's command. Her uniform fit snuggly across her large b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and Maddy could see sweat trickling down her face, despite the cool temperature. They'd driven together in the back of David's truck, bundled in blankets and silent the entire way. Occasionally, though, Kristi would give her an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up.

David stood on her other side. She knew he'd been up until very late, long after she'd gone to sleep in her bas.e.m.e.nt bedroom. She'd wake to hear him sc.r.a.ping his chair away from the kitchen table, pacing from one end of the house to the other, sc.r.a.ping the chair back in place. She'd managed to put together enough hours of sleep to make the day bearable. She didn't know how David would manage. She wasn't worried anymore about him not being a man of action. He was a man who didn't know how not to take action.

Before she'd said good night, David put his hand on her forearm. It seemed like something her grandma would do.

"Maddy, I just want you to know how much it's meant that we got to know each other."

Maddy looked at his hand on her arm, wondering if he'd start patting her. She didn't know what to say.

"You're young, probably younger than you're admitting to me, but you've got an amazing mind. I feel like you get what I'm saying, more than any of the others do."

She didn't think that was much of a compliment, but he looked very sincere. She was beginning to believe he genuinely cared for her.

"You and I have a singleness of purpose," he went on, his hand finally sliding off her arms. "We have a simple goal, but we have to be realistic. There are going to be people and circ.u.mstances that will keep things complicated."

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean that the reason you and I want to leave all this behind"his arm swept around the decrepit kitchen as if it were a Four Seasons resort"is probably not the same reasons others have. And that's okay."

"Is it?" she asked. "I don't want to live in the middle of Idaho with a bunch of people who are running from something. I feel like I'm running toward something."

David smiled as he watched her. "Exactly."

"What are they running from?" She ignored the fact that she was running from something too.

"I didn't say they were. I just said their reasons might be different from ours. We've decided to withhold our creativity from a society that only punishes us for having it. That's not something that most people think that much about. Ed and Warren want to go to Idaho to live like pioneers. Tom is a lost soul who just wants to be part of something. He goes with me everywhere."

"What about Kristi?"

"Well, Kristi is all gruff on the outside, marshmallow on the inside, not an unusual personality profile around here. There are so many people like her that have no job prospects, no special skills, no idea really of what it would be like to have either. Every year she sees her community becoming more hopeless, the people around her more bitter, their resentment poisoning everything. She wants out, but she doesn't really care what she's moving into as long as she believes it's something better. The idea of leaving this place is what's driving her."