"But you know he's north."

"That's an educated guess based on what I know about him. Any more questions, or are you satisfied?"

"Touchy, touchy. Okay, let me think." I toyed with the celery stick in my drink. "All right, here's a question. Where'd ya learn to speak such good English?"

Anatoly chuckled. "I've been in this country for over twelve years now."

"Yeah, but there are a lot of people who spend their entire adult lives in a foreign country and never become fluent in their second language or grasp the use of slang as you seem to have. Hell, you even conjugate your verbs."

"I've spent a good portion of time with a lot of people who speak almost entirely in slang. Plus, in my line of work I often find it advantageous to sound less foreign." For a split second I thought I saw a glimmer of regret pass over his face, but if I had, it was gone as quickly as it came. I wondered if I had found yet another subject to which he was sensitive.

"And what exactly is your line of work?"

Anatoly took a few more gulps of his beer before answering. "I'm a contractor."

"A contractor? Like a contract killer?"

"Yeah, that's right, I'm a contract killer. Would you like a business card?"

"Naw, but I might want a list of references." I tried to scoot my stool forward without having to get up. "So I guess you're a contractor in the more legal sense, as in you fix houses and stuff."

"And stuff."

"Well, this is a good city for that line of work. There are lots of old Victorians that are falling apart as we speak. But why is it so advantageous to sound less foreign?"

Anatoly shrugged. "Construction workers seem to be more willing to take direction from men who sound like locals. I think my clients prefer it too."

Anatoly didn't exactly sound local. "Do you have any clients right now?"

"I've been doing a few odd jobs here and there and I have a few bids out, but for the most part it would be fair to qualify me as being between projects."

"You might want to consider sounding a little more Russian again."

"I'll take it under advisement. So how about you? How did you get into writing?"

"Oh, it's a pretty mundane story. My ex-husband screwed me over, I wanted to castrate him but I didn't want to go to jail, so I wrote a book about castrating him."

"Your first book is about castrating your ex?"

"Well, it's supposed to be about another woman castrating and killing a whole bunch of men, but if you read between the lines, yes. It's a book about me castrating and killing my ex-husband."

Anatoly grinned and swallowed some more beer. "So you write fantasies."

I laughed. "Well, my fantasies at least. No, actually I just write ordinary mainstream fiction. The difference being that the crimes I write about may not have happened, but they could have. I take great pains to make sure that the books I write come across as being very realistic."

"But they can't be that realistic. You're not a cop or an investigator, and as far as I know, you're not a criminal, which means you have no firsthand experience in the things you write about. It's not possible for you to know what real-life crime is all about."

"Have you read any of my books?"

"No, I don't think I have."

"Well then, you're being a bit presumptuous, aren't you? Not to mention an asshole."

Anatoly nearly spit his beer all over the table. "You're getting a lot better with your insults."

"It's nice of you to give me so many opportunities to perfect my technique."

"You can practice on me anytime. I'm available nights and weekends."

I was tempted to ask what other services he offered, but forced myself to keep my mouth shut.

He rested his forearm on the table. "Have you had any serious relationships since your marriage?"

"Not a one. What's really sad is that I'm not lucky at cards either."

Anatoly's eyes locked with mine. "Luck has a tendency to change."

For a moment I couldn't find my voice. I took a long drink of the Bloody Mary. I was nervous. The sad thing was that I couldn't figure out if I was nervous because I was beginning to really like Anatoly or because I was afraid someone was trying to kill me. That really couldn't be healthy. I searched my mind for a nice safe topic.

"So you moved from Russia to Israel to the U.S. Sounds like a lot of life-altering changes."

"I was in Israel for just under four years. Then, as soon as the American Immigration office saw fit to allow my admittance, I was on my way to the States."

"You were in the Israeli army?"

"Of course, it's mandatory service." He paused to drink. "I was in the Russian army too."

"Oh my God, you're a mercenary."

"I was a citizen of both countries."

"Okay, but two armies? I don't know. There's something odd about that."

"Most women find it exciting."

"Are these the same women who developed a crush on Steven Segal?"

Anatoly leaned back from the table and grinned. "You know, I never asked about that. I have been with women who've had a thing for Jean-Claude Van Damme. Is that the same thing?"

"Pretty much. Were you ever in a kill-or-be-killed situation?"

"No, never during my length of service was I in that particular situation. I was lucky."

I had to think about the wording on that one. "What about outside your length of service."

"I've never been in combat outside of Israel or Russia either."

"But you have had some close calls here?"

"What makes you say that?"

I hate it when people respond to a question with a question. It almost always implies guilt. "Anatoly, I don't mean to grill you, but I do have a few set standards when it comes to dating. They are as follows-I never date men who are con artists, murderers or spawn of the devil. I just need to know that you don't fit into any of those categories."

Anatoly's body relaxed a bit as he leaned toward me. "I'm not a con artist. I have never committed murder. I'm a little murky on the devil-spawn part, but my mother decided to stay in Israel, so hopefully that will be a nonissue."

"Well, two out of three ain't bad." I took another bite out of my celery stick. "So, what kind of close calls have you had outside of the army?"

"Does your family live here?"

"Gee, that was subtle." I wanted to press him for more clear answers, but I could see his jaw tightening. Better to shelve the question for another day when I had more energy, patience, and a car to get home with. "My mom, my sister and her husband and baby. My father died eighteen years ago."

"I'm sorry. Were you close?"

"Very. I think I take after him in a lot of ways. Of course, I'm close to my mom too, and my sister and I talk regularly, but she and I are just very different people. I've always looked for the road less traveled-she, on the other hand, married a CPA."

"Got it. How long have you lived in Russian Hill?"

"I've been in the same flat for the last nine years."

"I've never been in the same city for nine years. Are you friends with all the neighbors?"

"I hate them." Anatoly stifled a laugh. "Fortunately the guy on the first floor is always out of town and the woman below me and I have an unspoken agreement to only acknowledge one another's presence once every five years, so it works for me. In fact, she was the one to tell me about my car this morning, so with any luck, she'll be giving me the silent treatment for the rest of the decade."

"All right, I'm sure there are other benefits to staying in the same place for so long. Rent control for instance."

"Oh God, yes, If it were to go on the market today the landlord would probably raise the rent by a good thousand dollars a month. Plus the landlord lets me do anything I want, as long as it brings up the property value. Hey, maybe you could do some remodeling for me. The timing's perfect. I just finished my last book, so it wouldn't be disruptive to my work."

Anatoly rearranged his legs under the table. "My plate's pretty full right now."

"I thought you said you were between projects."

"I am, but I expect that one of my bids is going to be accepted any day now. It's a big job and I want to keep myself available for it." He polished off the rest of his Pacifico. "Do you want another drink?"

"No, I think I'm done for awhile."

"Good." Anatoly signaled to the waitress that he wanted the check. "I want to walk up to Coit Tower. It's one of the few San Francisco monuments I haven't gotten around to visiting."

"Yeah, it's beautiful in a phallic kind of way, but you have to climb up a pretty steep hill to get there."

The cocktail waitress came over with the check. I suppressed a little smile. There were definitely brown roots.

After sticking his wallet away in his back pocket, Anatoly's focus came back to me. "I think you can make the walk." His eyes ran up and down my body. "You look like you're in very good shape."

My cheeks heated up and I squirmed in my seat. My feminist side was telling me to be offended, but I couldn't quite get myself to obey that particular dictate. I was too busy picturing Anatoly naked.

"Shall we?" Anatoly asked.

"Mmm-hmm." Whatever he was asking me to do, the answer was yes.

He extended his hand to me. Was it normal to be turned on by holding a guy's hand? Then again, this guy did have those mighty fine hands. He led me out of the restaurant.

My libido came back under control during the climb to Coit Tower. The road leading there wasn't quite at a ninety-degree angle but it was about as close as you could get without making walking up it a gravitational impossibility. By the time we made it to the top I was a sweaty, puffing mess that even lipstick couldn't compensate for. Anatoly wasn't even winded, which did nothing to improve my spirits.

I sat down on the low concrete barrier that encased the bell-shaped parking lot. "Is there a reason we didn't take your bike up here?"

"We wouldn't have gotten the full experience."

"Oh yeah. I wouldn't want to miss the experience of having cardiac arrest or anything."

Anatoly laughed and shook his head. "Do me a favor, shut up and enjoy the view."

I responded by sticking my tongue out at him before turning my back on the white phallic-shaped monument to absorb the rest of my surroundings. It really was beautiful. From where I stood you could see both the Golden Gate and Bay bridges. The weather was perfect for sailing, so the water was decorated with little white triangles gliding over its surface. It wasn't officially tourist season yet but there were still a fair number of men and women scattered around the monument snapping their cameras and speaking in foreign tongues. It was so peaceful and welcoming that any nagging fears left over from the morning's episode seemed to just blow away in the breeze. No matter what awaited me at the bottom of the hill, I knew that as long as I was here I was safe. I greedily inhaled the fresh sea air.

"It's spectacular, isn't it?"

Anatoly turned his back to the Bay. "Yes, 'spectacular' is a good word for it."

My breath quickened slightly.

"Sophie, there is something I've wanted to do all day."

"What's that?"

He answered by gently caressing my cheek. He leaned forward and touched my lips with his. It was gentle, tender and extremely hot.

He backed up just enough so he could speak. "More?"

"More would be good."

Anatoly moved in again. This time the kiss was deeper. He parted my lips with his tongue as one hand held me tightly against him and the other hand moved forcefully up my back. He abandoned my mouth in favor of my neck, and I silently thanked God that I had tossed aside the turtleneck.

Anatoly released me, and it took every last morsel of self-control not to cry out in protest. "I think I'm done looking at Coit Tower," he said. "Perhaps we could go somewhere a little quieter?"

You know, safety is overrated. It was time to leave this little utopia and start living dangerously...in my apartment. I ran a teasing finger down Anatoly's arm until its path was stopped by his watch. "Wait a minute, is that right? Is it really five-fifteen?" I checked my watch for verification. "Shit. I'm supposed to be at that surprise party at six."

"Surprise party? Do you really have to go?"

I bit down on my lip. My going to the party was really important to Marcus. Of course, getting laid was really important to me. "It's for a sick friend of Marcus's. He's a big fan of my books and I promised Marcus that I'd show up as kind of a celebrity-guest type thing."

"How sick is he?"

My shoulders slumped. "He has AIDS." I reluctantly tucked my hands into my pockets. "Do you want to come with me?"

Anatoly sighed and shook his head. "I wasn't invited, and you really should spend your time and energy on the guest of honor. I think it's best if I don't come."

Well, it looked like I wasn't going to get to come either. "Will you at least give me a ride?"

Anatoly draped an arm over my shoulders. "Your chariot awaits."