Oh the bed! Enormous. So wide. So loooonnnngggg. And there was something about the duvet cover. Even from a distance she could sense how delicious it would feel, how cool and smooth and kind.

"What a bed," she said, in awe. "I'll sleep well tonight."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," he said softly.

She turned toward the voice. Oh yeah. Him. For a moment she'd forgotten why she was there. "So how do you want to do this?"

"Do what?"

"This." She pointed toward the bed.

"I didn't realize . . . I thought we'd just wing it. See what happens?"

He kissed her and her body began to respond.

"How about I open this . . ." He played with the buttons on the front of her dress and when his hand brushed her nipple, braless under the fabric, it made her shudder His eyes met hers and she shuddered again. "Good or bad?"

She wasn't sure.

He moved his fingers in a circular movement around the buttons, until she thought they'd never be opened, that she and her need would be locked in forever. Then, with a sudden, almost violent flick, all four buttons were opened and he slithered the dress off over her head. He lay her down on the bed and slowly removed her knickers. She was panting.

"Do you want me to cane you?" she gasped.

He broke away and looked at her.

"Or asphyxiate you?"

"No." He looked horrified. "Is that what you want?"

"No. I wondered if it turned you on."

"You turn me on."

He took her hand and placed it on his groin.

"So I do."

Day 25 . . .

"Okay, boss?" Danno asked Katie.

Katie turned to Danno, her face ablaze with beauty. "Okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, like-" He gestured at the nightclub, at all the people, the journalists, the models and the celebrities who had shown up to help Wayne Diffney celebrate the launch of Seven Vintage Cars, One Dart Ticket. "Anything you need me to be doing?"

"Danno, I can quite honestly say that this is the happiest I've ever been in my entire life."

Danno was suddenly deeply disillusioned. "I thought you didn't mess with that stuff."

"Not drugs. Just happy." She treated him to another luminous smile.

"High on life?" Danno distrusted nothing more than a natural up.

"I should be exhausted," she confided. "I got almost no sleep last night. But I feel like I'll never need to sleep again. I feel invincible."

"Sounds like happy pills to me," he said doubtfully. "You take care of yourself, Katie. Don't let your man play the eejit."

"Oh Danno, I'm fine! This is like a holiday romance. Either Fionn's show will fail and he'll go back to Pokey, or his show will be a success and it'll go to his head. There is no future in this at all, but for the moment it's perfect."

Wayne's launch had been a dream. Even before ten o'clock, guests had begun to arrive, so Katie didn't have to endure long, sweaty minutes, standing in an empty nightclub, Wayne gazing at her with wounded eyes, terrified that no one would show. And the people who came were proper guests. Wayne's many aunties and cousins were all well and good but Katie needed the media to appear for this to work and, to her great pleasure, they'd shown up in hordes. From chatting to them she understood that there was a great reservoir of goodwill for Wayne Diffney. "His wife doing that to him . . ." "Never mind the wife; it was the hair when he was in Laddz. My heart went out to the chap." "Do I understand it correctly, that the album title is about Shocko having seven vintage cars and Wayne only having a Dart ticket, the day Hailey left him?"

Katie was shepherding Wayne around, ensuring that he spoke pleasantly to all the social diarists and journalists, even those who had shafted him in the past-of whom there were many-and suddenly, there was Fionn, in his dirty boots and jacket of many pockets, standing in an empty space, smiling awkwardly and being ignored by one and all.

"Just wanted you to know I'm here," he called. "You do your thing. I'm here for you when you want me."

She snagged George, who was scurrying past. "George, this is Fionn. Mind him. Introduce him to a few people."

George swept Fionn away, and as Katie worked the room with Wayne, she caught an occasional glimpse of him. He seemed to be laughing and talking, which was a relief.

"Wayne, this is Catherine Daly from The Times . . ."

"Wayne, Casey Kaplan from the Spokesman. I know the pair of you go way back . . ."

Keith from the Tribune popped up in front of her. "Katie, give us a lend of Wayne for a second. Just want to take a couple of shots of him with someone." He seemed quite agitated.

"Who?"

"Just over here." Keith led them through the crowds. "Wayne, Katie, this is Fionn Purdue. Remember the name; you'll be hearing it again. Fronting up a new gardening show. Lot of heat around it."

Katie laughed in delight. "Pleased to meet you, Fionn Purdue."

"Pleased to meet you, Katie Richmond."

Neither Wayne nor Keith could see what was so funny.

"Katie." Danno appeared. "We're ready to start the speeches."

In honor of the occasion-and it was an honor-James "Woolfman" Woolf, the managing director of Apex Europe, had flown in from London, with his stunning wife, Karolina, and their equally exquisite daughters, Siena and Maya. Under usual circumstances, Irish launches remained untroubled by anyone from the London end of things.

Woolfman, blessed with extraordinary good looks and magnetic charisma, chatted with charming "just folks" humility about the times he'd met icons like Nelson Mandela, Robert Plant-and, of course, the Dalai Lama. But who hadn't met the Dalai Lama, Katie thought absently. The brand was in danger of overexposure. A bit like Louis Vuitton. Outlets everywhere, even in duty-frees. She took a quick look at the faces around her: everyone was gazing with shiny, devoted eyes at Woolfman, and she was touched by the first prickles of alarm. They were so stunned with love for Woolfman that it seemed they'd entirely forgotten the reason they were there, to wit, Wayne Diffney. But . . . finally! . . . Woolfman said, "I can now add Wayne Diffney to the list of people I can boast about having met."

And the day was saved! Relief flooded Katie and she wondered why she had ever doubted Woolfman. He was a charm monster, a public-relations superstar, a hero.

Much clapping and whistling accompanied the appearance of Wayne on stage. His speech was brief and grateful and then, with prearranged spontaneity, someone (Danno) handed him a guitar and urged him to sing a few songs, which he promptly did. "The Day She Left." Then, "She's Having His Baby." And, of course, the first single from the album, "They Killed My Hair."

A tad mawkish, perhaps, but no one could deny he had good reason.

That was the work bit pretty much over for Katie, and for the rest of the night Fionn never left her side. He generated a lot of interest. Time after time, Katie heard him being asked, "How do you know Wayne?"

"To be honest, I don't," he always replied. "I've never met him before tonight. I'm here with Katie Richmond."

"With Katie Richmond?"

"With Katie Richmond."

"Girlfriend's heading for a fall." George, watching from the shadows, shook his head gloomily.

"It won't last," Lila-May agreed.

"What's wrong with all of you?" Danno said, exasperated. "Can't you just let her be happy?"

"But what does he see in her?"

"What? You think it should be you? With your long hair and your pointy bazoomas and-"

Fueled by a sudden surge of rage, Danno lunged at Lila-May and engaged her in a hot, dirty kiss, which came as a huge surprise to her, but an even bigger surprise to him. He'd been pretty sure he was gay.

Day 25 . . .

"Why don't you have a boyfriend?" Conall asked, into the silence.

They'd been lying without speaking, his leg thrown across Lydia's legs, the weight of it pinning her to the bed. Lydia was speechless and happy, as much because of the size of the bed as the sex.

"What makes you think I don't have one?"

"We wouldn't be doing this if you had, right?"

"Is that how it works?" Even to herself she sounded hard done-by. Although she didn't care about Gilbert any more-and she discovered that she really didn't-her pride was still a bit wounded: who would have thought he was off riding other girls?

"What?" Conall was suddenly interested.

"I did have a boyfriend until about a month ago."

"But?"

"But I accidentally slept with my flatmate."

"What?" Conall sat up, he was so startled.

"Yeah, I accidentally slept with my flatmate."

"How often? Just the once?"

"Just the once. Apart from one or two other times. It was like the damage was done, you know? We might as well. You know?"

Conall looked far from happy.

"So are you still sleeping with him?"

"Well, not right now, obviously."

When Conall made no pretense of a smile she said, "I'm not sleeping with him at all."

He nodded. He seemed satisfied.

"Except for when it happens." Lydia felt she'd better add that.

"What are you talking about?"

"Sometimes it just happens. If I bump into him in the kitchen . . ." She shrugged. "Or the living room. That sort of thing."

"How many times has it just happened?"

"Four."

"Four?"

"I think four. It might be a bit more."

She'd lost count after nine.

"He's your boyfriend."

Lydia laughed. "Listen to yourself, you're like a possessive . . ." She searched her head for the word with the correct quantity of scorn. ". . . girl. He's not my boyfriend. We don't have conversations. We don't even like each other. A bit like you and me."

"But I do like you."

"Well, I don't like you." Although that was no longer strictly true.

"When we had sex there, was it like you and . . . what's your man's name?"

"Andrei." No. Nothing could compare with the sex with Andrei. "Listen to me, Conall. Andrei and me, it's not real life."

"It's mind-blowing, isn't it?" Conall said.

She waited before replying, not sure what to say. But why would she lie? "Well, yeah. But I don't even like him. It's nothing. Nothing," she repeated. "Now let's go to sleep. I've to get up very early."

"So have I."

"How early do you have to get up?"

He eyed her. "Five-thirty. I'm going to Milan."

"So late? God, I'll have half a day's work done by then. What are you doing in Milan?"

"Taking over a company."

"Easy for some."