Cape sipped his drink, admiring the cityscape. When his attention shifted, he caught the blond peering his way. It happened again, twice. The third time he quit watching the view, watched her instead. She brushed off two men who came to her table. Her drink was something dark with fruit in it; she worked on that for a while. Then her head came up, and she was looking at him again.

He got up and carried his drink over there. Nothing in her expression welcomed him. Cool, aloof. He said, "You think you know me?"

It wasn't what she expected. The edges of her mouth twitched upward. "I guess I was staring, at that."

"Payback for downstairs? Or some other reason?"

"Not the kind you're thinking."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"You're a man, aren't you?"

"Not all men are the same."

"They are in my experience. I'm not looking for company."

"Then why the long-distance appraisal?"

"I suppose because of the way you looked at me in the lobby. It made me curious. Do I remind you of somebody?"

"Superficially. My soon-to-be-ex wife."

"Oh. I see."

"I don't think you do," Cape said.

"Not carrying a torch? Well."

"Is it all right if I sit down?"

"I told you, I'm not looking for company. As a matter of fact, I'm waiting for someone."

"Husband, boyfriend?"

"It might not be a man, you know."

"With you, I'll bet it usually is."

Two-thirds of a smile this time. "I thought I'd heard all the lines. That one's not bad."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I really am waiting for someone."

"If it's your husband, I'll go away quietly."

"I'm not married," she said.

"Fiance? Lover?"

"My brother."

Cape waited, one eyebrow raised interrogatively.

"Well, all right," she said. "Just until Boone gets here."

He sat down. The afternoon sunlight slanting in through the windows showed tawny flecks in her hazel eyes. Cat's eyes, frank and direct.

"My name's Matt. Short for Matthew."

"Matthew what?"

"Cape."

She said immediately, deadpan, "Hatteras or Kennedy?"

It wasn't funny, but he laughed anyway.

"Tanya Judson."

"Interesting name. Tanya."

"My mother's family were White Russians." She sipped her drink. "You don't look like you belong here, Matt."

"No? How do I take that?"

"I mean," she said, "you're not wearing a badge. I take it you're not part of the convention."

"What convention is that?"

"Million Dollar Round Table. Insurance agents who've written a million dollars or more worth of business."

"Not hardly. Is that why you're here?"

"Yes and no. I'm not a Round Table agent, but Boone is. My brother."

"And you're his date for this convention?"

"His wife couldn't get time off from her job. I happen to like San Francisco. So yes, you could say I'm his date."

"No trouble getting time off from your job?"

"I'm a computer graphics designer. Freelance."

"Not married, you said."

"I was, once. First, last, and only time."

"That bad?"

"That bad. And don't ask me if I'm involved with anyone or how I feel about short-term relationships. The answers don't concern you."

"Then why let me sit down?"

"I'm easily bored. And you seem like you might be interesting to talk to for a while."

"Uh-huh. As long as the conversation doesn't get too personal."

"Intelligent, too. Another point in your favor."

Cape nibbled sour mash. "Where do you and your brother live?"

"San Diego. Where do you live?"

"At the moment, a motel on Lombard Street."

"I meant-"

"I'm from the Midwest," he said, "but I don't live there anymore. I don't live anywhere anymore. Here a while, there a while."

"Ah. Drifter."

"Road warrior. Sounds better."

"How long have you been living that kind of life?"

"Not long enough."

"You must have money. Or do you just move from job to job?" He shrugged.

"Or maybe you rob banks in your spare time?"

"Too dangerous."

"I know-you're a professional gambler. You've got that steely-eyed look."

"Wrong. But I wouldn't mind being one."

"Why do you say that?"

"Gambling's an interest of mine."

"Really? You do much of it?"

"Now and then," Cape said.

"Good enough at it to make a living?"

"Don't I wish. I lose as often as I win."

"Blackjack, roulette?"

"Poker, mainly. That's my game."

Tanya smiled and then laughed.

"What's funny?"

"Well, it so happens-Oh, here's Boone. I'll let him tell you."

The man who came up to the table was about Cape's age. Round-faced, on the pudgy side, losing his dust-colored hair on both sides of a long centerpiece like a skinny peninsula in a pink sea. Conservatively dressed: blue suit with a convention badge pinned to the coat pocket, white shirt, blue-and-white silk tie. He didn't look much like Tanya. Except for the smile he wore: sunny, showing a lot of white teeth.

"Sorry I'm late, kiddo," he said to Tanya. He ran liquidy, bright blue eyes over Cape as if he were examining a plate of unfamiliar food. "Who's your friend?"

She introduced them. "Matt's not with the convention," she said.

"Figured that," Boone said cheerfully. "No badge. You're lucky, Matt, you don't got to wear no stinking badge."

"That's right. I'm lucky."

"Local? Or visitor like us?"

"He's a road warrior," Tanya said.

"A which?"

"His home is the open road."

"Oh, a free spirit. Now I really think you're a lucky guy, Matt. Wish I could live that kind of life instead of being tied down to a nine-to-five."

"You seem to be doing pretty well at your nine-to-five."

"Can't complain, can't complain."

Tanya said, "Matt was just telling me he likes to gamble."

"Is that right?"

"Guess what his game is?"

"Not poker?"

"Poker," she said, and Boone laughed with her this time.

Cape said, "How about letting me in on the joke?"

"Not a joke, just a funny coincidence." She laid cool fingertips on the back of Cape's hand. "My dear brother happens to be a poker nut himself. He also happens to be getting up a game tonight. You haven't filled all the seats yet, have you, Boone?"