Irresistible Forces

When careers tear lives apart, despite the best intentions …

PRAISE FOR

DANIELLE Steel“A LITERARY PHENOMENON … and not to be pigeonholed as one who produces a predictable kind of book.”—The Detroit News“THE PLOTS OF DANIELLE Steel'S NOVELS TWIST AND WEAVE as incredible stories unfold to the glee and delight of her enormous reading public.”—United Press International“Ms. Steel's fans won't be disappointed!”—The New York Times Book Review“One counts on Danielle Steel for A STORY THAT ENTERTAINS AND INFORMS.”—The Chattanooga Times“Steel writes convincingly about universal human emotions.”—Publishers Weekly“Steel IS AT THE TOP OF HER BESTSELLING FORM.”—Houston Chronicle“FEW MODERN WRITERS CONVEY THE PATHOS OF FAMILY AND MARITAL LIFE WITH SUCH HEARTFELT EMPATHY.”—The Philadelphia Inquirer“It's nothing short of amazing that even after [dozens of] novels, Danielle Steel can still come up with a good new yarn.”—The Newark Star-Ledger

PRAISE FOR DANIELLE Steel'S

IRRESISTIBLE FORCES“A PAGE-TURNER.”—The Chicago Tribune“Steel shows off her trademark ability to keep the pages turning.”—The Ft. Worth Star-Telegram“ENTERTAINING … While using all of modern life's trappings to bring a fantasy world down to earth, Steel ironically shows us that the only truly irresistible forces come from within.”—The News-Journal (Daytona Beach, Fla.)“STUNNING CHARACTERS … DRAMATIC TENSION … KEEPS READERS TURNING PAGES.”—The Beacon-Journal (Akron, Ohio)A MAIN SELECTION OF

THE LITERARY GUILD

AND

THE DOUBLEDAY BOOK CLUB

Books by Danielle Steel

To my very, very wonderful children,

Beatrix, Trevor, Todd, Nick, Samantha,

Victoria, Vanessa, Maxx, and Zara.And with special thanks to Tom,

for the red herring and the green shoe,

and our own irresistible forces.With all my love,

d.s.

a cognizant original v5 release october 06 2010

Chapter 1

IT WAS A brilliantly sunny day in New York, and the temperature had soared over the hundred mark long before noon. You could have fried an egg on the sidewalk. Kids were screaming, people were sitting on stoops and in doorways, and leaning against walls beneath tattered awnings. Both hydrants on the corner of 125th Street and Second Avenue had been opened, and water was cascading from them, as squealing children ran through it. There was an ankle-deep river running through the gutter. At four in the afternoon, it seemed as though half the neighborhood was standing around in the heat, talking and watching the kids. And suddenly, at four ten, shots rang out in the noise of the talk and laughter and the sound of rushing water. They weren't an unfamiliar sound in that part of town, and everyone stopped as they heard them. People seemed to pause motionless for a moment, waiting for what would come next. They pulled back into doorways, shrank against walls, and two mothers ran forward into the geyser of water from one of the hydrants and grabbed their children. But before they could regain the safety of the doorway, another burst of shots rang out, this time louder and closer, and three young men ran into the midst of the crowd standing near the hydrant. They knocked over kids as they ran, and hit a young woman so hard she fell sprawling in the water, and suddenly there were screams as two cops appeared, running around the corner, in hot pursuit of the young men, guns drawn, bullets flying into the crowd.

It all happened so fast, no one had time to clear a path for them, or to warn each other, and in the distance there were already sirens. And over the distant wail of police cars approaching the scene, there was another round of gunshots, and this time one of the young men fell to the ground, bleeding from his shoulder, at the same time one of his companions wheeled and shot a police officer cleanly through the head, and suddenly a little girl screamed and fell to the ground in the fierce spray from the hydrant, and everyone nearby was shouting and running in all directions, as her mother ran to her from the doorway where she'd been watching in horror, as the child fell.

And an instant later, the chase was over. Two of the young men were lying facedown on the ground being handcuffed by a flock of policemen, an officer lay dead, and the third suspect was being tended to by paramedics. But only a few feet away, a child lay dying from the bullet that had hit her. It had passed cleanly through her chest, and she was bleeding profusely, as her mother knelt next to her, soaked by the continuing spray from the fire hydrant, and sobbing hysterically as she held her unconscious child in her arms, and the paramedics wrested the five-year-old girl from her. Within less than a minute, she was in an ambulance, and they pulled her mother in with her, still crying and dazed. It was a scene all of them had seen dozens of times before, if not hundreds, but one that only meant something when you knew the people at the core of the drama, the perpetrators, or the victims. The ones who got arrested, or those who got injured or killed.

There was a vast tangle of cars at the corner of 125th, as the ambulance tried to disengage from them, with siren screaming and lights flashing. And people stood on the street looking stunned by what had happened. A second ambulance took the injured suspect from the scene, and blue and white cars seemed to come from everywhere as they heard on the radio that an officer was down. People in the neighborhood knew what it would mean for them once word got out that he had been killed. Tempers would flare, and smoldering resentments would burst into flame. Worse yet, in the deadly heat, anything could happen. This was Harlem, it was August, life was tough, and a cop had been murdered.

And in the ambulance, as it sped downtown, Henrietta Washington clung to her child's hand, and watched in silent terror as the paramedics fought for her life. But for the moment, it didn't look like they were winning. The little girl was gray and still and her blood was everywhere, the floor, the sheets, her arms, the gurney, her mother's face and dress and hands. It looked like a slaughter. And for what? She was another casualty in the endless war between the cops and the bad guys, gang members, drug dealers, and narcs. She was a pawn in a game she knew nothing about, a tiny sacrifice among warriors whose goal was to destroy each other. Dinella Washington meant nothing to them, only to her friends and neighbors, her sisters, and her mother. She was the oldest of four children her mother had had between sixteen and twenty, but no matter how poor they were, nor how tough life was for them, or the neighborhood in which they fought to survive, her mother loved her.

“Is she gonna die?” Henrietta asked in a strangled voice, her huge eyes looking into those of a paramedic, and he didn't answer. He didn't know.

“We're doing what we can, ma'am.” Henrietta Washington was twenty-one years old. She was a stereotype, a number, a statistic, but she was so much more than that. She was a woman, a girl, a mother. She wanted more than this for her kids. She wanted a job, wanted to work, wanted to be married to a good man one day, who loved and took care of her and her children. But she had never met a man like that. Her kids were all she had for the moment, and she had nothing to give them but her love.

She had a boyfriend who took her to dinner once in a while, with three kids of his own to support. He hadn't been able to find a job in six months, and drank too much when he took her out. There were no easy solutions for either of them, just welfare, an odd job from time to time, and a hand-to-mouth existence. Neither of them had finished high school, and they lived in a war zone. And the life they led, and where they lived it, was a death sentence for their children.

The ambulance screeched to a stop outside the hospital, and the paramedics raced out with Dinella on the gurney. She had an IV in her arm, an oxygen mask over her face, and all Henrietta knew was that she was still breathing, but barely. She ran into the emergency room after her, in her bloodstained dress, and she couldn't even get near her little girl. A dozen nurses and residents had closed around the child and were running down the hall with her to the trauma unit, as Henrietta followed, wanting to ask someone what was happening, what they were going to do. She wanted to know if Dinella would be all right. A thousand questions raced through her head as someone stuck a clipboard and pen in front of her face.

“Sign this!” the nurse said bluntly.

“What is it?” Henrietta looked panicked.

“We have to operate—fast—sign it!” Henrietta did as she was told, and a second later, she was standing alone in the hallway, watching other gurneys rush past, and nurses and doctors in hospital scrubs hurry toward operating rooms and other patients. She felt completely lost and terrified as she stood there and began to sob in total panic. And a nurse in green hospital pajamas came toward her and put an arm around her. She led her to a little cluster of chairs, sat her down, and crouched beside her to reassure her in a gentle voice.

“They're going to do everything they can for your daughter.” But the nurse had already heard that the child was in very critical condition and not likely to survive.

“What are they going to do to her?”

“They're going to try and repair the wound and stop the bleeding. She lost a lot of blood before she got here.” It was a massive understatement. Just looking at the condition the child's mother was in, they both knew how dire the situation was. Henrietta was covered with blood.

“They shot her … they just shot her….” She didn't even know if it was the police or the men they'd been chasing who had done it. It didn't matter now. If Dinella died, what did it matter who had killed her? Good guys or bad.

As the two women held hands and Henrietta cried quietly with a look of despair, the nurse could hear the PA system paging Dr. Steven Whitman. He was second in command in the trauma unit, and one of the best men in trauma in New York, and she said as much to Henrietta. “If anyone can save her, he will. He's the best there is. You're lucky he's on call.” But Henrietta didn't feel lucky. She had never felt lucky in her entire life. Her father had died when she was a child, gunned down in a street fight just like this one. Her mother had brought her and her sisters and brothers to New York, but their life here was no different. They had just taken their troubles from one place to another. But nothing much had changed. If anything, their life in New York was worse. They had moved to New York so their mother could find better work, but she hadn't. All they had found was the tough life they lived in Harlem, a life of poverty and no hope for a better tomorrow.

The nurse offered Henrietta some water or a cup of coffee, but she just shook her head and sat miserably in her chair, still crying and looking as terrified as she felt, as a huge wall clock ticked away the minutes. It was five minutes to five by then.

And at five o'clock sharp, Dr. Steven Whitman exploded into the operating room, and was rapidly filled in by the resident who'd been in charge until he arrived. Steve Whitman was tall and powerful and intense, with short dark hair and eyes that looked like two black rocks in an angry face. It was his second gunshot wound of the afternoon, the previous one had died at two o'clock, a fifteen-year-old boy who had managed to shoot three rival gang members before they shot and eventually killed him. Steve had done everything he could to save him, but it was too late. At least Dinella Washington had a chance. Maybe. But according to the resident, it was a slim one. Her lung had been perforated, and the bullet had grazed her heart before it exited, and caused an extensive amount of damage. But even listening to the grim recital, Steve Whitman was not willing to give up hope yet.

Steve barked orders at them for an hour, as he fought to keep the child alive, and when they started losing her, he massaged her heart himself for more than ten minutes. He fought like a tiger to keep her going. But the deck was stacked against them. The damage had been too great, the child too small, the odds too slim, the evil forces more powerful than even his expertise or his scalpel. Dinella Washington died at 6:01 as Steve Whitman let out a long grim sigh. Without a word, he walked away from the operating table, and pulled his surgical mask off with a look of fury. He hated days like this, hated losing anyone, particularly a child who was nothing more than an innocent victim. He had even hated losing the boy who had shot three people before they killed him. He hated all of it. The uselessness of it. The waste. The despair. The pointless destruction of human life. And yet when he won, as he often did, it all seemed worthwhile, the long hours, the endless days that ran into even longer nights. He didn't care how long he stayed or how hard he worked as long as he won some of the time.

He threw away his surgical gloves, washed his hands, took off his cap, and looked in the mirror. What he saw was the fatigue of the last seventy-one hours he had spent on duty. He tried to work no more than forty-eight-hour shifts of being on call and on duty. It was a nice thought, but it rarely worked out that way. You couldn't exactly punch a time clock in the trauma unit. And he knew what he had to do now. He had to tell the child's mother. A muscle tensed in his jaw as he walked out of the surgical area, and headed toward where he knew the child's mother would be. He felt like the Angel of Death as he walked toward her, knowing that his was a face she would never forget, at a moment in time that would haunt her for the rest of her life. He remembered the child's name, as he did all of them for a time, and knew that he would be haunted as well. He would remember the case, the circumstance, the outcome, and wish it could have been different. As little as he knew his patients, he cared about them above all.

“Mrs. Washington?” he asked, after a nurse at the desk had pointed him in her direction, and she nodded, her eyes full of fear. “I'm Dr. Whitman.” He had done this for a long time, too long he thought sometimes. It was all becoming too familiar. He knew he had to say it fast, in order not to hold out a hope he could no longer give her. “I've got bad news about your daughter.” There was a sharp intake of breath as Henrietta saw his face, his eyes, and knew even before he said the words to her. “She died five minutes ago.” He gently touched her arm as he said it, but she was unaware of his touch or even his compassion. All she had heard were his words … she died … she died…. “We did everything we could, but the bullet did too much damage both on entry and exit.” He felt both foolish and cruel giving her those details. What difference did it make what the bullet had done and when? All that mattered was that it had killed her child. Another casualty in the hopeless war they lived. Another statistic. “I'm so sorry.” She was clutching at him then, her eyes wild, fighting to breathe after the impact of the news he had just dealt her like a blow. It was as though he had hit her with a fist in her solar plexus. “Why don't you sit down for a minute?” She had stood up to hear the news as he approached her, and now she looked as though she were about to faint. Her eyes rolled, and he lowered her back into the chair, and signaled to a nurse to bring her a glass of water.

The nurse brought it quickly, and the child's mother couldn't drink. She made terrible, airless, strangled sounds as she tried to absorb what he had told her, and Steve Whitman felt as though he had been the killer, instead of the man with the gun. He would have liked to be the savior, and sometimes he was. There were wives and mothers and husbands who threw themselves around his neck with gratitude and relief, but not this time. He hated the losses so much. And too often, the deck was stacked against him.

He stayed with Henrietta Washington for as long as he could, and then left her to the nurses. He'd been paged again, for a fourteen-year-old who had fallen out of a second-story window. He was in surgery for four hours with her, and at ten thirty he walked out of the operating room, hoping he had saved her, and finally made it to his office for the first time in hours. It was the quiet part of the night for him, usually the really bad cases didn't start to come in till after midnight. He grabbed a cup of cold coffee off his desk, and two stale Oreo cookies. He hadn't had time to eat since breakfast. He'd been on duty officially for forty-eight hours, and had done another forty-eight as a favor to one of his colleagues whose wife was in labor. He was long overdue to go home, but hadn't been able to break away until then. He had a stack of papers on his desk to sign, and he knew that as soon as he did, he could go home. There was already another doctor on duty to take his place. And as he heaved a long sigh, he reached for the phone. He knew Meredith would still be up, or maybe even still at the office. He knew how busy she'd been for the past few weeks, and he wasn't sure if she'd still be in meetings, or if she'd finally gone home.

The phone rang once, and she answered. Her voice was as calm and cool as Meredith herself. They were a good balance for each other. She had always matched Steve's volcanic intensity with her own special brand of silky smoothness. No matter how crazy things got, Meredith always seemed to stay calm in the heat of crisis. She was quiet and elegant and cool. Her entire being was a contrast to her husband.

“Hello?” She had suspected it would be Steve, but she was in the midst of a huge deal, and it could have been someone in her office calling her at that hour. She had in fact gone home. Meredith Smith Whitman was a partner in one of Wall Street's most respected investment banking firms, and highly respected in her field. She lived and breathed and ate the world of high finance, just as Steve was totally engulfed by his work in trauma. And they each loved what they did. For each of them, it was an all-consuming passion.

“Hi, it's me.” He sounded tired and sad, but relieved that she had answered.

“You sound beat,” she said, sympathetic and concerned.

“I am.” But he smiled as he heard her. “Just another day at the office. Or three of them actually.”

It was Friday night, and he hadn't seen her since Tuesday morning. They had lived that way for years. They were used to it, and had long since learned how to work and live around it. She was all too familiar with his crazy two- and three-day shifts, the emergencies that dragged him back to work only hours after he finally got home. But they each had a healthy respect for the other's work. They had met and married when he was a resident and she was in grad school. It had been fourteen years, and sometimes, to Steve at least, it seemed more like weeks. He was still as crazy in love with her as he had been in the beginning, and theirs was a marriage that worked well for both of them, for a variety of reasons. They certainly didn't have time to get bored with each other, in fact they hardly had any time at all. And with their two all-consuming careers, they had never had the time or the inclination to have children, although they talked about it from time to time. It was an option neither of them had entirely ruled out yet.

“How's your big deal going?” he asked her. For the past two months she had been working on the prospectus for the initial public offering of a high-tech venture in Silicon Valley. They were going to take the company public and sell stock to people buying shares in the company. It was a hot deal for Meredith's firm, and fascinated her, although it wasn't as prestigious as some of the bond offerings they did. But Meredith was much more interested in the firms in Silicon Valley, and the opportunities they presented than their more traditional deals in Boston and New York.

“We're getting there,” she said, sounding a little tired. She'd been at the office until midnight the night before. It was easy for her to do that when Steve was working. He knew she was going to lead the road show for the IPO, to tell potential investors about the company and encourage them to invest, in the next month, and she'd be gone for a couple of weeks. He was hoping they'd be able to spend some time together before that, and he was going to take time off to be with her on the Labor Day weekend. “I've almost finished the red herring.” He knew the jargon, it was a term they all used for the prospectus, and it was called that because of the red caution-warnings required by the SEC along the outer edge of the prospectus. “When are you coming home, sweetheart?” she asked, stifling a yawn. She had just gotten home from the office, and it was nearly ten thirty.

“As soon as I sign some stuff they left for me. Have you eaten yet?” He was more interested in her than the forms he had to sign, as he sat sprawled in his office, staring at the papers on his desk.

“More or less. They threw me a sandwich a few hours ago, at the office.”

“I'll make an omelette when I get home, or do you want me to pick something up?” Despite their heavy work schedules, Steve was usually the one who did the cooking, and he liked to brag that he cooked better than she did. And he obviously enjoyed it more. Meredith had never claimed to be particularly domestic. She'd rather eat a sandwich or a salad at her desk, than come home and whip up a four-course dinner. And he liked cooking a lot more than she ever had.

“An omelette would be great,” she smiled, listening to him. Their time apart always made her miss him, even when she was busy. Theirs was an easy, comfortable relationship, and an attraction that had never dimmed, even in the fourteen years they'd been married. They were still passionately devoted to each other, despite their demanding careers and hectic lives.

“So what happened today?” She could always hear in his voice when things hadn't gone well. They knew each other better than most people did, and cared a lot about each other's victories and defeats.

“I lost two kids,” he said, sounding depressed again. He couldn't help thinking of the young black woman who had lost her daughter five hours before, and how much he would have liked things to come out differently for her. But he was a doctor, not a magician. “A fifteen-year-old kid who got in a shoot-out against a rival gang. He managed to hit three of them before he went down, but they killed him. And a little girl a few hours ago. She was an innocent bystander in a shootout between three kids and the cops in Harlem. They shot her in the chest. We operated, but she didn't make it. I had to tell her mother, the poor woman was devastated. And after that, I operated on a fourteen-year-old who fell out a second-story window. She's in lousy shape, but I'm pretty sure she's going to make it.” Meredith would have hated doing what Steve did, the constant agony of the patients he saw, the despair, the losses, the heartbreak. She knew all too well what it did to him, and she could hear the toll it had taken.

“Sounds like a miserable day, sweetheart … I'm sorry. Why don't you come home and relax? You need it.” He hadn't been home in three days, and he sounded exhausted and disheartened.

“Yeah, I need a break. I'll be home in about twenty minutes. Don't go to bed till I get there.” She smiled at the warning.

“There's no danger of that. I came home with a full briefcase.”

“Well, park it somewhere when I get there, Mrs. Whitman. I want your full attention.” He was dying to see her. Going home to Meredith was like being on another planet from his work and all the responsibilities he had there. She was a refuge for him, a breath of fresh air and normalcy and health, a safe haven from the brutality and violence he dealt with every day. And he could hardly wait to see her. He didn't want to come home and find her asleep or working.

“I promise you will have my full attention, Doctor. Just get your ass home.” She grinned and he smiled, envisioning her, as beautiful and sensuous as ever.

“Pour yourself a glass of wine, Merrie, and I'll be there in a few minutes.” He was always optimistic about time, but she knew that about him.

As it turned out, he walked in the door of their apartment nearly forty minutes later. The chief resident had needed a quick consultation with him before he left, about a broken hip and pelvis on a ninety-two-year-old woman, and the fourteen-year-old who'd fallen out the window had developed complications. But Steve knew better than anyone that it was time for him to go home. He was beyond exhausted. He finished the paperwork on his desk, and signed out for the weekend. He didn't have to be back on duty at the trauma unit until Monday, and he could hardly wait to get out, he'd had it. Enough was enough. He was so tired by the time he left, he could hardly think straight.

He hailed a cab just outside the hospital and was home ten minutes later, and as he let himself into the apartment, he could hear soft music playing, and smell Meredith's perfume. It was like coming home to Heaven after three days in hell. His time with Meredith was what he lived for, but she knew he loved his work too, just as he knew how much she loved what she did.

“Merrie?” he called out to her, as he unlocked the door of the apartment, but there was no answer. She was standing in the shower when he found her, long and lanky, and blond and incredibly beautiful and graceful. She had modeled for extra money when she was in college. They had both gotten through school on scholarships. Both of them were only children, and both of them had lost their parents while they were in college. Hers in a car accident in the South of France on the first real vacation her parents had taken in twenty years, and his to cancer within six months of each other. For years now, they were not only husband and wife, but they were the only family each had, and as a result they meant everything to each other.

And as she saw him, she smiled broadly, turned off the shower, and grabbed a towel. Her shoulder-length blond hair dripped water on her breasts, and her green eyes were sexy and warm. She was as happy to see him as he was to see her when he kissed her and pulled her close to him soaking wet. He didn't care how wet she was, he just wanted to hold her.

“God, what you do to me when I come home like this … you make me wonder why I ever go to work.”

“To save lives of course,” she said as she put her arms around his neck and glued herself to him. She made him feel refreshed and alive again, better than a vacation or a night's sleep. He kissed her, and in spite of the grueling seventy-six hours he had just spent at the hospital, he was instantly aroused by her. She had a powerful effect on him, and had since the day they met.

“What do you want first? Me, or the omelette?” he asked with a boyish smile, and she looked at him with feigned consternation.

“That's a pretty tough choice. I was beginning to get hungry.”

“Me too,” he grinned. “Maybe the omelette first, and then I'll hop into the shower, and we can celebrate the fact that we're both here for the night. I was beginning to feel like they were never going to let me out. Thank God I'm off for the weekend. I can't believe we've actually got two days to spend together.” But her eyes clouded as soon as he said it.

“I get the feeling you've forgotten I'm leaving for California on Sunday.” She looked instantly apologetic. She hated leaving when he was off, it was so rare that they got a whole weekend together. As second in command in the trauma unit, it was pretty common for him to work weekends. And when he was off during the week, she had to be at the office. “I've got to go back out to meet with Callan Dow one last time before the road show. We're getting down to the wire, and I want to go over the prospectus one more time with him in California.” She was meticulous about every detail.

“I know, don't worry about it. I forgot.” He tried not to look disappointed, as he watched her towel-dry her hair, and then left her to go to the kitchen and cook them the omelette he had promised.

She joined him wearing a white cashmere bathrobe five minutes later. Her hair was still wet, her feet were bare, and he could glimpse that she was naked underneath the bathrobe.

“If you flash me, I'll burn the omelette,” he warned, pouring the mixture into the pan with one hand, and then pouring himself a glass of white wine with the other. She didn't say anything, but he looked drained. There were dark circles under his eyes, and a worn look that came from three nights of no sleep. “It's good to be home,” he said, turning to look at her with a tired smile and unconcealed admiration. “I missed you, Merrie.”

“I missed you too,” she said, putting her arms around him as she kissed him. And then she sat down on a high leather stool at their kitchen counter. Their apartment had a sleek New York look that seemed more Meredith's style than his. There was something very stylish about her, and everything about her exuded the aura of competence and success. Steven had the rumpled, disheveled look of a harried overworked doctor. It had been weeks since he'd had time to get a haircut and he hadn't shaved in two days. He looked younger than his forty-two years, and it was hard to tell in scrubs what he would look like dressed. He was wearing mismatched athletic socks, and a battered pair of clogs that were comfortable for him to work in. It was hard to imagine him in a blazer and gray flannels and a tie, although he looked terrific when he wore them. But most of the time when he wasn't working, he wore faded jeans and T-shirts. Most of the time, he was too tired to think about wearing much else.

“So what are we going to do tomorrow, other than sleep and make love and stay in bed until dinner?” he said, smiling at her mischievously as he set the omelette down in front of her on a plate on the granite counter. Their kitchen was all beige and white, and looked like a magazine layout.

“All of the above sounds good to me, except I have to drop by the office to pick up some papers. And then come home and read them. They're for the meeting in California,” she said apologetically, with a look of regret.

“Can't you read them on the plane?” He looked disappointed as he devoured his half of the omelette.

“I'd have to fly to Tokyo to do it. I won't work longer than I have to, I promise.”

“That sounds ominous,” he smiled, as he poured them each another glass of wine. It felt great to be off duty. He had no responsibilities to anyone except his wife. He couldn't wait to get to bed and make love to her, and then sleep until noon the next day. “So tell me about work. How's your IPO coming?” He knew how much her work meant to her, and her eyes danced with excitement as she answered.

“It's going to be fantastic. I can hardly wait till the road show,” she said, referring to the due diligence tour where they sold the opportunity to potential investors. “I just know this is going to go over big. I talked to Dow this morning, and he's like a little kid waiting to hit a home run in the play-offs. He's a nice guy. I think you'd like him. He's built the company up from nothing, and he's deservedly proud of it, and now he's taking it public. It's like a dream come true for him. It's exciting showing him how it all works.”

“Make sure that's all you show him,” he admonished, pointing at her with his fork, as she leaned toward him and he could see one creamy white breast exposed within her bathrobe. She laughed at what he was saying.

“This is strictly business,” she said confidently. For her, it always was.

“For you maybe. I just hope the guy is short, fat, and ugly and has a girlfriend who screws him blind. Sending you on the road with a guy is like waving fish at a porpoise … pretty damn tempting, sweetheart.” He looked at her admiringly. It was impossible not to notice how spectacular looking she was, and he was sure the men she worked with weren't oblivious to it either. Better yet, she was smart, and fun to be with. And she had not only held his interest for fourteen years, but still aroused his passion. No matter how tired he was, he was always anxious to get her into bed, and she loved that about him.

“Believe me, all these guys think about is their business,” she reassured him. “And Callan Dow is no different. This is his baby. His dream come true. The love of his life. He wouldn't notice if I looked like Godzilla. Besides,” she smiled at her husband, “I love you. I don't care if he looks like Tom Cruise, you're the guy I'm in love with.”

“Good.” Steve looked pleased, and then glanced at her with concern. “But now that you mention it, does he?”

“Does he what?” She looked baffled by the question. She was tired too.

“Look like Tom Cruise. Does he?”

“Of course not.” She laughed, and then teased him a little. “More like Gary Cooper. Or Clark Gable.”

“Very funny.” It was true, but she didn't press the point, it was of no importance to her. “He'd just better look like Peter Lorre, or they can send some other partner on the road show with him. Besides, two weeks is too long, and I'll get too lonely. I hate it when you're gone that long.”

“So do I,” but that was not entirely true, and they both knew it. If the IPO was exciting enough, and she cared about the company, she loved it. She thoroughly enjoyed her business, and taking companies public. “Ten cities in two weeks is not exactly a vacation.”

“You love it, and you know it.” He finished his wine, and sat back to look at her admiringly. She looked relaxed and beautiful and sexy. And he felt in desperate need of a shave and a shower. He knew he looked a mess. But when he was at the hospital, how he looked was the last thing on his mind. It only mattered when he came home to her, and even then, sometimes he was too exhausted to get dressed.

“Sometimes I love the road shows. Not always. When they're good, they're a lot of fun, and a lot of work. It depends on the company. But this one's a good one. The stock is going to go through the roof.” Steve knew they made high-tech medical diagnostic equipment, some of which the CEO, Callan Dow, had invented himself. Steve knew from Meredith that Callan Dow's father had been a small-town surgeon and had wanted his son to be a surgeon too. But instead, Callan had been fascinated by business and high-tech inventions, and had set up his company to make high-tech surgical instruments instead. Steven knew his products and had been impressed with them, but he wasn't particularly interested in the stock, no matter how impressive Meredith said the company was. Steve let Meredith handle all of their finances, after all it was what she did best. And he knew nothing about it.

She put the dishes in the dishwasher. Steve went to take a shower, and a few minutes later, she turned off the lights and met him in their bedroom. It was well after midnight, and they were both tired, and he found her in bed a few minutes later. He slipped into bed next to her, and she smiled as he took her in his arms and held her close. She could easily feel how much he wanted her, and it was entirely mutual. She kissed him, and then gave a soft moan as he began to caress her. And within minutes both the hospital, and her public offering were forgotten. All that mattered just then was the private world that they shared and thrived in.

Chapter 2

ON SATURDAY MORNING, when Steve woke up, Meredith had already left for the office. She thought she could get downtown and back before he woke up. But he was sitting in a towel, fresh from the shower, reading The New York Times when she walked back into the apartment in white slacks and a white T-shirt, carrying her briefcase.

“You don't look old enough to be an investment banker,” he said with a smile when he saw her, and she set her briefcase down next to the couch. She looked happy and relaxed; the night before had been as good as it always was, maybe even better. Their sex life had always been four star, and they both enjoyed it, when they saw each other, which was always too rare. Sometimes she wondered if their erratic schedules kept the romance alive for them, and made them hungrier for each other than most couples were after fourteen years of marriage.

“How about going out to lunch?” It was still hot, but he was longing to get out in the air, and go somewhere with her. “Tavern-on-the-Green?”

“That would be fun,” she said, feeling only slightly guilty. She had to get her reading done, but she knew she could always do it later. She knew how much he needed relief and distraction after being on duty for three days. He needed a counterpoint to the misery he saw there, and he expected her to join him. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she needed to work.

He made a reservation and at noon they went out hand in hand, and were startled by how much hotter it had gotten. The heat of the New York summer was stifling, and it was so humid they could hardly breathe as they left the building.

They took a cab to the restaurant and enjoyed each other's company over lunch. She told him more about the offering she was working on, and he listened with interest. He liked hearing about what she did. It was her one and only passion for the moment, but he loved that about her. She was amazingly single-minded and relentlessly focused when she was working on something. It was part of why she was so good at what she did, that and the fact that she had extraordinarily good judgment. She was respected at her firm for it, although Meredith sometimes felt she didn't get the same opportunities the men did. She'd been a partner of the firm for the past four years, but more often than not, she did the lion's share of the work, and the truly creative things, and one of the male partners got the glory. It was something that had irked her for years, but it was also the nature of some of the firms on Wall Street. She worked for what was called a “white shoe” firm, where the men kept the control of the power in their exclusive little world. It was a very old guard way of doing business, and she knew it had its limitations for her. She had chosen to work in a man's world, and to conquer their mountaintops, and they didn't always thank her for it. In fact, she was going to the West Coast with one of the more senior male partners the next day, and she was annoyed that he had insisted on coming with her. At first, no one else had wanted to work on this deal with her, and now that they sensed how important it was going to be, they were trying to climb on the bandwagon with her. But at least Callan Dow knew she had championed his cause right from the beginning.

Meredith and Steve talked about some of his problems at the hospital over coffee. He had been the number-two man in the trauma unit for the last five years, and he was itching to run it. Harvey Lucas, the man in charge, threatened regularly to move on, but he seemed to be going nowhere. He'd been talking about moving to Boston for several years, but he just couldn't seem to tear himself away, and Steve's hands were tied until he did. He had to content himself with being the assistant head of the department. But it was the best trauma unit in the city and he had no desire to leave. And Lucas was a good friend to him.

After lunch, Steve and Meredith took a leisurely stroll through the park, listening to the Steel bands and the jazz musicians, as they wandered past the model boat pond, and watched the children play. They still talked about having children from time to time, but the prospect seemed to get more remote to them every year. Lately, Steve had been talking about it a lot, but Meredith was still not yet ready to listen. And she wasn't sure she ever would be. At thirty-seven, she was beginning to think that there would never be room in their lives for children. They were both too busy with their careers. Meredith had always been afraid that a child would somehow come between them, rather than bring them closer, as Steve was so sure it would. The very thought of a baby made Meredith feel threatened. She didn't want to be torn between a baby and her job.

The heat was still deadly, and they were both tired when they got back to the apartment, and sprawled out on the couch side by side.

“How about a nice cool air-conditioned movie tonight, after I make us some dinner?” Steve looked happy and relaxed and like a different man than the one who had practically crawled into their apartment the night before after three and a half days on duty. All he had needed to revive him was some time with Meredith and a night's sleep. He already felt better and more alive.

“I can't go to the movies, Steve.” She looked at him regretfully. “I have to pack, and I haven't even started my reading.” She'd been out with him all afternoon.

“That's too bad,” he said, looking disappointed, but he was used to it. She almost always brought work home from the office with her. “What time are you leaving?” he asked, as he sprawled out on the couch. He was wearing khaki pants and a blue shirt, and bare feet in loafers, and Meredith thought he looked unusually handsome. He would have looked better still with a tan, but he never had the time to get one. And his pale angular face somehow made his dark hair and eyes seem even darker and more intense.

“I'm on a noon flight,” she explained. “I'll have to leave here around ten.”

“There goes Sunday,” he said, but there was nothing either of them could do about it. Business was business, and she had to see Callan Dow in California. Steve understood that.

He watched TV that night while she worked in the small den she used as an office. It was crammed with his medical books, and books she kept on recent rulings of the SEC, and an assortment of medical texts, finance books, and novels. Her computer was set up there, and Steve had one of his own, but seldom used it. In some ways, their interests were widely divergent, and always had been, and yet they were each intrigued by the other's field. But Steve always laughed about the fact that he knew virtually nothing about finance. She had a better grasp of what he did, and considerably more interest in it. But at the same time, he had a healthy respect for the fact that she earned a better living. She earned a big salary, which was something he knew he never would in his line of work. And she chafed at the fact that she didn't make more than she did, and felt she should have. But they had more than enough for their comfortable lifestyle. They had lived in the same apartment for the past five years, it was a co-op and Meredith had paid for it in full when she became a partner. Steve would have liked to contribute to it, but just plain couldn't. The disparity in their incomes had never been an issue between them, it was something they both understood and accepted. Unlike other couples, they never fought about money, just about whether or not to have kids.

She read until nearly midnight that night, and Steve was asleep in front of the TV when she finally finished. He had drunk half a bottle of wine, and was feeling relaxed and content. Meredith packed her suitcase before she woke him. It was one o'clock by then, and he was in a sound sleep when she kissed him, and he stirred.

“Let's go to bed, sweetheart. It's late. And I have to get up early tomorrow,” she said softly. She knew he had called a friend that afternoon, and was going to play tennis with him after she left for the airport.

Steve followed her sleepily into the bedroom, and a few minutes later, they were in bed, with their arms comfortably wrapped around each other. And five minutes later, he was snoring. They both slept soundly until six A.M., when the phone rang. It was the hospital for him. Harvey Lucas, the head of the trauma unit, was in surgery with the chief resident and two other doctors, working on four victims of a head-on collision, and they needed Steve to come in. He could refuse if he wanted to, since he wasn't on call, but he knew from what they said that they needed someone there right away, and he didn't want to let them down. He never did. And with a glance at Meredith, he told them he'd be there as soon as he could. Two of the victims were children, one was a severe head injury, and the pediatric neurosurgeon was already on his way in. The parents were both in critical condition, and they weren't sure yet if the second child would make it. His neck was broken and they thought he had a spinal cord injury. He had been in a coma since they brought him in.

“I hate to leave before you,” Steve said as he climbed into jeans and pulled on a clean white T-shirt. He would change into scrubs in the hospital, and he slipped his bare feet into the clogs he wore at work.

“That's okay,” she smiled sleepily at him, she was used to it, they both were. “I have to get up pretty soon anyway.’’

“So much for tennis, or a leisurely Sunday. I should be able to get back in a couple of hours. “It was wishful thinking on his part, they both knew, and she'd be gone by then anyway. Meredith knew that once he was at the hospital, he'd stick around, and check on his other cases, and he probably wouldn't be home before midnight, if then. He might even stay overnight if there was enough for him to do, and he'd just go back on duty anyway the next morning. Although Meredith would be back Tuesday morning, he wouldn't be off duty till Wednesday, and she wouldn't see him till late that night.

“I'll call you from California.” She wasn't even sure where she was staying. Callan Dow had said he'd make the arrangements for her.

“Just make sure Cary Grant, or Gary Cooper, or whoever the hell you said he looked like, doesn't sweep you off your feet while I'm saving lives.” He smiled, but she could see a mildly worried look in his eyes. He was obviously concerned about Callan Dow.

“You don't need to worry,” she said, as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her, and kissed her.

“I hope not.” He gently touched her naked breast with his hand as they kissed again, and he looked at her with regret before he left. “I was hoping to make love to you before we both went back to the wars.” But this was the story of their lives, and always had been, deferred hopes and canceled plans, postponements and promises and rain checks. They were used to it and most of the time it didn't upset them.

“Hold the thought…. I'll see you Wednesday night when I get back from the office. I'll try not to stay late.” She knew he was coming off duty then.

“That's a date.” He smiled at her, clipped his pager on his belt, and ruffled his hair with one hand rather than combing it. He had brushed his teeth, but didn't bother shaving. His was not a job that required him to look elegant or well groomed, and most of the time he didn't bother to try. He had more important things to think of. “Have a good trip,” he said with a last wave from the doorway, and an instant later she heard the front door close, as she lay in their bed, thinking about him. He was exactly as he had been fourteen years before when they met and he was a resident. His whole life revolved around what he was doing, just as hers did. And as she lay there, she began thinking of the company she was going to be taking public, and everything she still had to do to assure that it would go smoothly.

She got up and brought a stack of papers back to bed with her, and read for two hours before she got up, and she was satisfied that she was nearly prepared for her meeting in California. She still had a few last questions to ask, and mostly she wanted to brief Callan Dow on what to expect when they went on the road. He had never taken a company public before, he was a novice at all this and he looked to her entirely for advice and information. In some ways, it made her feel both competent and important, and then for an instant, she felt a little guilty for it. She wondered sometimes if she enjoyed what she did because it made her feel powerful and independent. She loved what she did and the world of high finance she existed in. It was a world she had reveled in since the first moment she'd been in it, just as Steve was passionate about what he did. In some ways, they were so different, and yet they both loved their jobs, and knew they were doing something that mattered to people. Although Steve was saving lives, she was helping people achieve what they had worked so hard for years to accomplish, and that wasn't negligible either, although it was very different from what Steve did.

The phone rang while she was getting dressed, and it was Steve. He had just come out of surgery with the child with the broken neck, and the orthopod had said that he'd be fine eventually. He'd been very lucky, and Steve had assisted in the surgery and said he was going to hang around for a while. They had lost the mother shortly after he got there, and the older child was still in a coma. It was the usual drill, although every case that came along seemed like the most important one in his life, and she smiled as she listened to him. He was as excited about what he was doing as she was about going to California to go over the prospectus and the road show with Callan Dow.

“I'll miss you, Merrie,” he said, and she smiled, thinking about him.

“Me too.” She said and meant it, and he laughed when he heard her. He knew her better.

“Yeah, for about ten minutes. All you're going to be thinking about is your red herring and your book and your road show. I know you.”

“Yeah, you do, don't you.” While she was getting dressed, she couldn't help thinking of what he'd said. He knew her as well as she knew him, their respective passions for their work, their goals, their weaknesses, their fears. Their total involvement in their work, which was why they had never had children. Where was the place for them, with him at the hospital for three days at a time, and her traveling all over the place for business? What would a baby get out of a life like theirs? Not much, she felt sure, which was why, so far at least, she had refused to have one. She was good at what she did, she was sure of that, and she was a lot less sure that she would be a good mother. Maybe later, which was what she always told Steve. But much later would be too late, and they both knew it. She wondered if she'd regret putting it off one day, but for the moment, she just couldn't see it. And as she put the rest of her papers back in her briefcase, and buttoned the jacket of her suit, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked as starched and impeccable as Steve had looked rumpled when he left the apartment at six that morning. He didn't have to look any better than that to stand around in the operating room or evaluate patients as they came in on the brink of death. All he had to do was be there and know what he was doing, and he didn't have to look good to do it. Meredith had to exude efficiency and competence and control in everything she did, and look the part, and she did, as she picked up her briefcase and left the apartment. She had her laptop and her cellular with her, and the final draft of the prospectus she'd been working on with the lawyers.

And as she headed for the airport in a cab, to meet Paul Black, the partner who would be traveling with her, she glanced out the window at the New York skyline, thinking about how much she loved her life there. There was, in fact, absolutely nothing she would have changed about her existence. As far as Meredith was concerned, it was perfect.

Chapter 3

MEREDITH WORKED ON her laptop for a while on the plane, and finished reading the material she had prepared for Callan. Paul Black, the partner she was traveling with, slept for most of the trip, and they chatted for the last half hour about the next morning's meeting. He was confident that she had laid all the groundwork properly, and as always, he was sure she would impress the client with everything she had organized for him.

Black had actually brought the client in, but Meredith's expertise in high-technology fields had led him to turn Callan Dow over to her. One thing they could always be sure of with Meredith was that they could be certain she knew what she was doing. He said as much to her on the flight but she was irritated by the fact that she thought he sounded condescending. She always half expected him to punctuate his sentences to her with “girlie.” Paul Black was one of the senior partners of the firm, and he had never been one of Meredith's favorite people. She thought he spent most of his time boasting of his social connections and resting on his laurels, neither of which were pastimes Meredith indulged in. His original tie to Callan Dow had been a social one through one of his wife's brothers. But after landing him, like a giant fish, Black had done very little about it. It was Meredith who had done all the work so far in taking Dow Tech public.

The plane landed at three fifteen, and Callan Dow had a town car meet them at the airport. He had booked them into Rickie's in Palo Alto, which was close to his office. And once settled there, Paul Black left her to have dinner with friends in San Francisco. Wherever they went, he seemed to have connections, and he didn't invite Meredith to join him.

She was just as happy to stay at the hotel, and go over her material for her meeting with Dow again, and when the phone rang at eight o'clock, she was sure it would be Steven. Knowing him, he was probably still at the hospital, and she had left her phone number on his voice mail.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said as she answered the phone. No one else knew where to find her.

“Hi, sweetheart to you too.” The voice on the other end was deep, and he was laughing when he answered. But it wasn't Steve, it was a voice she didn't recognize at first, and she was startled. “How was the flight?”

“Fine. Who is this?” For once, she was slightly off balance.

“It's Callan. I thought I'd make sure you were comfortable and you liked the hotel. Thanks for coming out. I'm looking forward to our meeting.”

“So am I,” she smiled in embarrassment, “I'm sorry … I thought you were my husband.”

“I figured. Are we all set?”

“Just about. I want to show you the final draft of the red herring, and go over a few final details for the road show.”

“I can hardly wait,” he admitted to her. For all his expertise and sophistication and success in the business world, he sounded like a kid he was so excited. He had worked hard building his company, and the challenge of taking it public had been a long time coming. “When do we begin?”

“The Tuesday after Labor Day. Everything is pretty much set up, except for a few final details in Minneapolis and Edinburgh. The other cities are all pretty well locked in. I really think we're going to be oversubscribed. Everyone is excited about you, there's already been a lot of talk about it.”

“I wish I'd done this sooner,” he said in a voice that was an intriguingly low rumble. His voice was deep and in other circumstances she'd have called it sensuous, but all it sounded to her now was warm and friendly. She had enjoyed working with him all summer.

“I think the time is right now, Cal. If you'd done it sooner, you might not have been ready.”

“Well, the time seems to be right now, Meredith. Although I'm still having trouble with my CFO. He's still fighting me about taking the company public. He believes I should have kept ownership myself,” he said to her apologetically. He knew how hard she had worked on the public offering, and how little help she'd gotten from his CFO. He had resisted her every step of the way.

“That's a pretty old-fashioned point of view,” she said, smiling. They both realized that it was going to be difficult traveling with Charlie, because of that, for two weeks.

“He's already complaining about the trip.”

“Don't worry. We'll get him on the bandwagon tomorrow. I'll let Paul Black talk to him, he's about as conservative as they get, and even he's excited.”

“Where is he now? I thought you two might be having dinner.”

“Actually, he went to dinner with friends in San Francisco. I was going over the red herring one last time, and some notes for tomorrow.”

“You work too hard. And are you telling me he left you all alone? Have you had dinner?”

“I had room service an hour ago, and I'm fine. Believe me, I brought plenty of work with me.” She always did that. Meredith never went anywhere without her briefcase. Steven always teased her about it.

“What about breakfast tomorrow, Meredith? I thought maybe we should get together before you come to the office.”

“That sounds fine. What about seven thirty here at the hotel? I saw a dining room when we checked in. I'll leave a message for Paul tonight, and we can all meet there tomorrow morning.” She was all business, and anxious to get going, as he was. “Do you want to bring your CFO?” It seemed an appropriate question.

“Actually, I'd like some time with you without him. We can meet him at the office.”

“Fine. I'll see you in the morning then.”

“Don't work all night, Meredith. We'll have time to get it all done tomorrow.” He sounded almost fatherly as he said it. He was still a young man, but some fourteen years older than she was. He was fifty-one years old, and he barely looked older than her husband. Callan Dow was what everyone expected men to look like in California, healthy, energetic, suntanned, and good looking. But her only fascination with him was with his business. Nothing else about him intrigued her.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, and after they hung up, she left a message for Paul on his voice mail and told him about the breakfast meeting in the morning. And after that, she took a shower and went to bed. She tried calling Steven again, but he didn't answer her page, and she assumed correctly that he was too busy with patients. And when he finally did return her call, she was sound asleep and he woke her. It was two o'clock in the morning in California.

“Hi, baby…. Did I wake you?”

“Of course not, Paul and I were just sitting here playing poker.” Her voice was sleepy, but he was too wired to hear it.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure … you know what a fun guy Paul is.”

“Sorry … I didn't mean to wake you. It's five o'clock here, and I've been in surgery since midnight. I just got your message when I came out.”

“How'd it go?” She yawned sleepily as she asked him.

“We won this one. For once. A drunk driver hit a seven-year-old and gave him a hell of a headache. But he's going to be fine, he's got a couple of broken legs, and his rib cage is a mess, but there's no permanent damage.” One of his ribs had pierced his lung, but Steven had done some fancy footwork, and some very intricate repairs.

“What was he doing out at midnight?”

“Sitting on a hydrant. It's hot here.”

“Did you ever go home?” she asked with another yawn, as she rolled over in bed and glanced at the clock. It was late, but she was glad to hear him.

“Nothing to go home to. I thought I'd just stay here and sleep. I've got to be back here anyway in three hours.”

“You're the only human I know who works harder than I do, Steven Whitman.”

“You taught me everything I know on that score. So how's it going? Did you see your client?”

“Not till breakfast tomorrow morning … or in a few hours, I guess. But I'm ready. I finished all my work on the plane. I spoke to him tonight, and he sounds pretty wound up.” She was awake then, and couldn't help wondering if she'd get back to sleep again before morning. She had too much to think about now that Steve had gotten her going again.

“I guess I should let you get back to sleep. … I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Steve,” she smiled into the darkness, holding the phone, thinking of him. “I'll be back before you know it.”

“Yeah, and I'll be trapped here, like a rat in a cage, as usual. Do you ever think about how crazy our life is?” he inquired, staring into space at his end, thinking about her. They were both so goddamn busy. Sometimes far too much so, but he also knew that she enjoyed what she did, and so did he.

“I was mulling it over today when I left. I was thinking how impossible it would all be to juggle if we had kids. We could never lead the life we do now, Steve. I guess that's why we never had one.”

“We could manage if we had to. Other people do, who're just as busy as we are.” He sounded wistful as he said it.

“Name two,” she said doubtfully, “name one for that matter. I can't think of anyone who lives like we do. You're never home, for days at a time, and I'm always on the road or in the office. What a great life for a kid. We'd have to wear name tags that said ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ so they'd recognize us when they finally saw us.”

“I know, I know … you think we're not ready. I'm just afraid that by the time you think we are, I'll be too old to do it.”

“You'll never be too old to ‘do it.’ “She laughed at him, but she knew he was serious about the subject, far more so than she was. She just wasn't ready to think about having children, and still wasn't sure she ever would be. She couldn't imagine fitting them into their already overburdened existence. And the idea had begun to appeal to her less and less over the years, although she hated to disappoint him. She knew how much having kids meant to him. And she hadn't closed the door on the subject permanently. But it was never something she was aching to do.

“We'll have to have a serious talk about this again one of these days, Merrie.”

“Not until I take Dow Tech public,” she said, sounding surprisingly alert. His talking about their having kids always made her defensive. But there was always some company she was taking public, some IPO that was the most important thing in her life at the moment, some company that needed her help, some deal she had to make, some road show she had to finish. In fourteen years, there had never been a right time for her to think about it, and he was beginning to think there never would be. And he had a real sense of loss when he thought that they might never have children. But he had always wanted children more than she did. He felt the lack of family more than she, she always said that he was all the family she ever needed.

“I'd better let you get some sleep, Merrie, or you'll be dead on your feet tomorrow.” He knew she had a long day ahead of her, and she was taking the red-eye back to New York, and would be landing in New York at six A.M. Tuesday morning. And knowing her, she'd go home, shower and change, and be at her office by eight thirty.

“I'll call you tomorrow when I can,” she promised, stifling a yawn, hoping she'd get a few hours’ sleep before she had to get up at six thirty.

“Don't worry about it. I'll be here. You know where to find me.”

“Thanks for calling,” she said with another yawn. “G'night…. I love you.” They hung up then, and it took her half an hour to get back to sleep, thinking about him, and then her meeting with Callan Dow in the morning. And it seemed like only minutes later when her alarm went off and woke her.

She got up and showered and dressed and did her hair in a neat French twist that seemed appropriate for her meeting. She had brought a dark blue linen suit with her, and she looked impeccable when she appeared in the dining room, in the suit, high heels, and pearl earrings, carrying her briefcase, at precisely seven thirty. And although she was unaware of it herself, she made a stunning impression. She looked more like a model posing as an executive, and several heads turned as she walked swiftly to the table where Paul Black was waiting. He had on a dark gray summer suit, a standard white shirt and conservative tie, and looked just like what he was, an investment banker from Wall Street.

“How was your dinner last night?” she asked him politely as she sat down, and ordered a cup of coffee.

“Very pleasant. It's a long drive to the city though. I came back later than I thought I would. You were smart to stay here.” She didn't point out to him that he hadn't offered her an option, and went on to tell him about her call from Callan Dow the night before.

“He's very pleased about everything we've done to set up the trip.”

“He should be. I think it's going to be a good one, from everything you've told me, Meredith. I think it's going to go very well for them.”

“That's what I told him.” But before she could say more, she saw Callan Dow standing in the dining room doorway and glancing around the room, looking for them. And he looked exactly as she had remembered. He was tall, well built, a handsome man with sandy hair, lively blue eyes, and an athletic air about him. He was almost too good looking, and although she knew he originally came from the East, he looked very California. He had a deep tan, and was wearing a blue shirt, a blue and yellow Hermes tie, and a well-cut khaki suit, with well-polished loafers. He looked like a GQ ad, and her description of him to Steve, as a Gary Cooper look-alike, seemed more apt than ever. He spotted them quickly and came over with a broad smile, and he shook hands with both of them with a look of pleasure.

“It's nice of you both to come out here,” he said easily, taking a seat at the table, and a minute later they ordered breakfast. He ordered scrambled eggs and a bowl of fruit, and Meredith opted for toast and coffee. Paul was having eggs benedict and oatmeal.

They talked animatedly about the deal and his plans, and the due diligence tour, and Meredith calmed any fears he had, addressed all his latest concerns, and handed him the red herring, which he skimmed quickly while he drank his second cup of coffee.

“Looks like we're just about up and running.”

“We'd better be. We start in Chicago two weeks from tomorrow.” They had chosen to start the trip there because it was a less important city for them, and would give them a chance to get the kinks out of their presentation. From there, they were going to Minneapolis, and then on to L.A. and San Francisco. He was going to spend the weekend at home, while she flew back to New York. And on the Monday after that, they were going to meet in Boston, make their final presentation in New York, and then on to Europe. She had already set it up for the most part in Edinburgh, Geneva, London, and Paris. And then her job would be over. She hoped that the syndicate they would have formed would have dissolved, and his stock would be sold over the counter on the burgeoning electronics market. His eyes danced like a child's as they talked about it.

And as they chatted over the last of their breakfast, he commented again on the problems he was having with his chief financial officer, Charles McIntosh. He was still dragging his feet about taking the company public, and it was obviously a source of serious annoyance to Callan. Because of his objections to Callan's goals for the company, he was determined to cooperate as little as he could get away with.

“I've had a hell of a time convincing him we're doing the right thing. And I know he believes he's right when he tries to dissuade me. He's a good guy, and I've known him for years. He is incredibly loyal, but he's also unbelievably stubborn,” Cal said, looking worried.

“He'd better get on the bandwagon before we start the road show,” Meredith said with a look of concern. “It's going to worry people if he sounds like a dissenting voice, or looks as though he has reservations about it. People aren't going to understand that his objections are personal, and could misinterpret his position,” she said firmly.

“Don't worry, Meredith, if he does that, it won't be a problem.”

“Why not?” she asked with a look of surprise.

“Because I'll kill him,” Callan Dow said with a rueful laugh. “We've worked together for years, and he's basically a grouch. He's just one of these people who's always heading upstream when everyone else is swimming downstream. He's a hell of a smart guy, but some of his ideas are back in the dark ages.” Callan had such clear visions for his company. But he was younger than Charlie, and incredibly forward thinking.

“I'm not sure he's your greatest asset,” Meredith said, smiling at him. She trusted Callan's judgment, and his ability to handle his people. He hadn't come this far by being a poor judge of horseflesh. And if he said he could control his CFO, she had to trust him on it.

“Actually, Meredith,” he admitted to her as Paul Black signed their check, “I don't disagree with you, but that's another matter. For now at least, he'll be fine. I can't look too far into the future. He's been with me for a long time, and I'm hoping he'll come around on this one.” Meredith nodded, and the three of them left the restaurant and walked out to the parking lot together. Callan had a car and driver waiting for him, to take the three of them to the office. And they chatted easily on the way about his company, his house nearby, and his three children. She had forgotten that he had kids, and was surprised when she heard him talk about them. It was evident from what he said that they lived with him, and she wondered where his wife had gone, if she had died or they were divorced. But it struck her as odd that a man as successful as he in the business world would be single-handedly bringing up his children. He had said that all three of them had been at his house at Lake Tahoe for the summer, and he had just brought them home with him for this business meeting, and they were going back for the weekend. He said he liked to keep them with him.

“I usually take the month of August off to be with them. But this summer, I seem to be commuting.” There had been a lot to do at his end, and from what Meredith could see, so far, he had done all his homework. And she was even more impressed when they got to his office. Everything was impeccably prepared, and all the information she and Paul could possibly have wanted had been analyzed for them. As she had been before, Meredith was enormously impressed with his knowledge of technology, and the way he ran his business.

The only fly in the ointment, as the day went along without a hitch otherwise, was Charles McIntosh. He seemed to have a thousand unfounded objections to everything they were doing. What's more, he was highly suspicious of them, and even less pleased that the IPO was being handled by a woman, although he never actually came right out and said so. But he made it so plain to everyone that when he left the room finally, Callan Dow turned to her and apologized for him.

“I'm afraid Charlie is a dyed-in-the-wool chauvinist, Meredith, and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.” Cal actually looked embarrassed and she laughed it off graciously, although more than once he had seriously annoyed her.

“Don't worry, I'm used to it,” she said quietly. “Paul isn't our most liberated partner either.” In fact, the two had gone off together to continue their own conversation in Charlie's office, leaving Callan and Meredith alone to clean up the final details. Traveling with Charlie was going to be a real pain in the neck, she knew, but at least while Callan was around, she knew he wouldn't say anything too inappropriate about the company going public. She could see that he was mildly afraid of alienating Callan. But he certainly was no fun to be with, and could barely bring himself to endorse the project. “You'll have to keep control of him on the road show.”

“Charlie will be all right,” Cal said optimistically. “And the truth is he loves the company, and wants what's good for it, even if he doesn't agree with me. He's extremely loyal, even if he is painfully shortsighted.”

“I'm surprised he let you do it at all.”

“He had no choice,” Callan said firmly, and she could sense in the way he said it that Callan wouldn't have tolerated anything less than Charlie's full support, and the CFO obviously knew that. “But I'm sorry if he's a thorn in your side.”

“I've dealt with worse. I can handle a little chauvinism. He doesn't frighten me. I just don't want him giving people the wrong impression.”

“He won't. I promise.”

The four of them had lunch together in the conference room, and after that, Charlie offered to give Paul a tour, and ignored Meredith completely, which suited her to perfection. She was just as happy spending the rest of the afternoon with Callan, polishing up the risk factors for the red herring. And by the time the two older men returned, Meredith and Callan had done everything they needed, and it was nearly five thirty.

“What time is your flight?” Callan asked her with a look of concern. He hadn't even thought of it till then, they had worked straight through since lunchtime, but they had done everything they wanted to accomplish, and Meredith was extremely pleased with their meeting. There were no remaining unanswered questions. And even Charlie McIntosh seemed to have relaxed a little by the time she and Paul were ready to leave the office. Paul seemed to have won him over.

“We're on the red-eye,” Meredith explained, glancing at her watch. They had several hours to kill, and didn't have to leave for the airport till eight thirty.

“What about an early dinner?” Callan Dow suggested, but Meredith didn't want to impose, or tie up more of his time than she had to.

“We'll be fine,” she assured him. “Paul and I have plenty to talk about. We can have dinner at the hotel, and then leave for the airport.”

“I'd much rather take you to dinner,” he said, graciously including Paul in his invitation. Charlie McIntosh had left them by then, and had been barely civil to Meredith when he said good-bye to her. It was almost as though he were jealous of her, and her influence on Callan. He really did have a problem with her, and Callan seemed to be as aware of it as she was. Charlie blamed her for making it possible to take the company public. He had told Cal repeatedly that once they had stockholders, Cal would lose control of the company, and he saw that as a potential disaster for them. He overlooked entirely the enormous influx of money and opportunities that selling stock would bring them. And more than anything, Charlie saw Meredith as the source of all their potential future problems. And he was unrelentingly angry at her for it. He had long since chosen to forget that it was not Meredith's idea to take Dow Tech public, but Callan's.

“Do you like Chinese food?” Cal asked Meredith directly, and she nodded, still hesitating, but while she was trying to decline gracefully, Paul happily accepted, and the three of them left the office together to have dinner.

And as it turned out, it was a very pleasant evening. After working together since early that morning, the three of them felt completely at ease with each other. And even Paul relaxed and seemed less condescending than usual. And he told some very funny stories about old road shows. By the time Callan dropped them off at the hotel, the three of them felt like old friends, and Paul and Meredith were sorry to leave him.

“I'll see you in two weeks,” Callan said with a broad grin as he shook her hand in the lobby before he left them.

“Call if you have any questions,” she encouraged him, “or if you're worried about something.”

“I'm probably too ignorant about all this to even know what to worry about.” He laughed good-naturedly, and like Meredith, he looked as impeccable at eight o'clock that night as he had at seven thirty in the morning. They had that same kind of effortless style and impeccable neatness in common. With their blond hair and light eyes, and similar style, they looked almost like brother and sister. And he waved easily as he left them, and strode across the lobby to the car waiting for him outside. He had promised to send the car back in a few minutes to take them to the airport. He was going back to the office to pick up his Ferrari. Meredith had noticed it in the parking lot at Dow Tech that morning and wondered who it belonged to. It was bright red and convertible, and very striking.

“He's a nice guy,” Paul Black said, sounding almost surprised as they went back up to their rooms to pick up their luggage. “You'll have a good time with him on the road show. He's got a great sense of humor.”

“Yes, he does,” she agreed easily, “and he knows what he's doing, which is refreshing. And he's not afraid to admit it when he doesn't.” Although she suspected he probably had a big ego in some ways, humility at the appropriate times was one of his strong suits, and it was more than a little unusual in his business.

“I think you'll do just fine with this, Meredith,” Paul said, and they left each other to pick their bags up in their rooms and met in the lobby again half an hour later. She had called Steve, but he was unavailable as usual, and she left a message on his voice mail. And half an hour later, she and Paul were on their way to the airport.

The plane left on schedule, and she worked for a while, while Paul fell asleep beside her. And eventually, she turned off the light, put her papers away, and closed her eyes, and the next thing she knew they were landing at Kennedy and it was six o'clock in the morning. And just as Steven had predicted, she took a cab home, showered, and changed, and by eight thirty, she was at her desk, in her office, writing up notes from her meeting with Callan Dow, and working with the lawyers to put the finishing touches on the prospectus.

Steve called her at the office at noon, between surgeries, and he was pleased to know that she had returned safely.

“I like knowing you're back in town,” he said with a relieved tone. “When I know you're that far away, I really miss you,” but she couldn't help wondering what difference it really made, since they couldn't see each other anyway. Sometimes it felt as though she and Steve existed on different planets. His world seemed so far from hers and when she thought about it, it made her feel lonely. But she couldn't think about that now. She had too much to do, taking Dow Tech public. She talked to Callan Dow later that afternoon, and he was ecstatic about their meeting the day before. He was flying high on the thrill of what they all knew was coming.

“It won't be long now,” she encouraged him, feeling like a mother hen waiting for a chick to hatch. But the truth was that her clients and their companies were the children she had never had. They were her babies, and the only ones she wanted for the moment. She would never have said it to Steve, but she suspected that she didn't have to. He knew that, just as he knew everything about her.

And as she sat at her desk late that night, finishing her work on Dow Tech, she glanced out the window into the New York night, and thought about her husband. He was in the trauma unit somewhere, saving a life, or comforting a child, or reassuring a mother. It seemed like such noble work to her. And yet, for her in her heart of hearts, she still thought that what she did was more exciting. She loved everything about it. She thought of calling him then, but she knew she probably wouldn't get him anyway, so she didn't bother. She stayed at her desk until two A.M., and then with a satisfied smile, she left her office, locked her door, and went downstairs to hail a cab, carrying her briefcase. This was the only life she knew, everything she loved, and all that she wanted.

Chapter 4

IN THE NEXT two weeks, Steve and Meredith hardly saw each other. She was at her office until nearly midnight every night, working with her partners to set up the syndicate of other investment banking firms to underwrite the offering of Dow Tech to the public. A syndicate of nearly thirty investment banking firms was going to underwrite it. She spent hours talking to the analysts in her firm to make sure that they would support the stock in the beginning. And she spent an equal amount of time talking to the salesmen in her firm, to confirm that they were lining up the key institutions in the cities they'd be traveling to, and that they sent their people to see the road show. There were insurance companies, large universities, anyone with large funds to invest had to be made aware that they were coming. And of course she met with the firm's lawyers constantly to prepare everything for the SEC, to make sure that all their questions about Dow Tech were getting answered. In addition, she was thinking about the final number of shares to be sold, and the final price, although there were going to be ballpark figures in the prospectus, which was now well over a hundred pages. It was an unbelievable amount of work that required her constant attention, and she felt as though she were leaving halfway through the day when she went home every night after midnight.

Callan Dow was immensely impressed by what he heard whenever he spoke to her, and particularly so with the way she had turned the risk factor section of the prospectus into an almost positive treatise on the company's behalf, an art form she had carefully developed. In fact, he was delighted with everything she did, and couldn't believe his good fortune in working with her.

A week before the road show was to begin, the lawyers they used sent the final prospectus to the SEC for approval, and Callan was understandably nervous about it, but once again Meredith reassured him. She told him it was one of the best IPOs she'd ever worked on, and he didn't need to worry about it.

By the end of the last week, all the loose ends had been tied up, and she felt confident that they had thought of everything. The syndicate was set up, the analysts were pleased, the salesmen were as excited about Dow Tech as she and Callan were, and even the SEC wasn't giving them any trouble. The only thing she was worried about by the end of the week before the Labor Day weekend, was how little time she had spent with Steven, and she could tell from her phone calls with him that he was upset about it. But there was very little she could have done about it in the last two weeks. She had too many important details to attend to, to spend time with her husband.

“I feel like I'm married to an imaginary friend,” he complained on Thursday night when he called her from work. She was still in the office at one A.M., and mercifully he had just come out of surgery himself and wasn't due to get off duty until noon on Friday. He had been at the hospital on and off since Tuesday morning. And he'd been called in four times for emergencies when he was on call over the weekend, so he couldn't complain too much that she was busy.

“I'm sorry,” she said, sounding tired but pleased. She was thrilled that everything had gone so smoothly. It had been an unusually good deal for the firm, and one of the rare ones where no unexpected dragons reared their heads with surprise disasters at the last minute. “It'sjust been crazy for the past two weeks, but it's been worth it. I don't think we've ever been as well prepared for an offering as we have this time.” She felt good not only about the validity of the company, but about the quality of its products. Even Steven had told her that the instruments they made were exceptionally good ones. Meredith had talked to him about it right from the beginning, and he had reassured her on that subject.

“If you have to work this weekend, Merrie, I'm going to kill you.” And for once, he sounded as though he meant it.

“I swear I'm going to try to wrap up everything by noon tomorrow, and I'm all yours till Monday.” She had promised herself and him that she would keep the Labor Day weekend sacred for him. He deserved it. “You're not on call, are you, sweetheart?”

“No way. I don't care if half of New York bleeds to death or if a volcano erupts in Central Park, I'm off call, and I'm throwing my goddamn pager in the garbage can at noon tomorrow. I intend to spend the weekend in bed with you, if I have to handcuff you to the headboard.”

“That sounds pretty kinky,” she giggled as she listened to him, but she could hear that he was tired too. And when he finally came home at noon the next day, she was already there waiting for him. It was another one of those steamy humid days that everyone in New York expected at the end of August, and she was wandering around their living room in her underwear when he walked in, in wrinkled scrubs and a two-day-old beard he hadn't had time to attend to. It had been a hellish week for him, but as promised, he had walked out of the unit at noon, and when he saw his wife, he grinned, and tossed his pager on the kitchen counter.

“If that thing goes off in the next three days, I'm going to kill someone,” he said as he helped himself to a beer and sprawled across the couch with a look of admiration at his wife's white satin bra and panties. “I hope this isn't a preview of what you're wearing on the road show. You might sell a lot of stock, but you could cause a riot.”

She leaned over and kissed him, and he ran a practiced hand up her silky thigh, and then took another sip of the icy beer before setting it down on the coffee table. “God, I'm tired,” he admitted. “Half of New York must have shot each other this week, and the other half fell on their asses and broke something. If I see another damaged body, I think I'm going to have a psychotic break.” He smiled at her then, beginning to unwind from the pressures of three days straight at the trauma unit. “It's good to see you. I was beginning to wonder if we were still married. It's like being married to a flight attendant, every time I'm here you're not, and when you're home, I'm working. It gets a little old sometimes, doesn't it?”

“It does, but I just couldn't help it for the past two weeks. When I get back, everything will calm down again. I promise.”

“Yeah, for about two minutes,” he said, looking uncharacteristically weary, but he'd had roughly a total of six hours’ sleep in the past seventy-two hours. She wondered how he did it. At least she got to come home at night, and get some rest, before rushing back to the office again the next morning. “I hope you don't have another IPO for at least another six months,” he said, and she smiled.

“I'm not sure my partners would be too thrilled with that,” she said, taking a sip of his beer and sitting down next to him on the couch. Even with the air conditioning on full blast, it was still warm in the apartment. It had been over a hundred degrees all week, and still in the nineties at midnight, and several times that week they'd had a brownout in her office, but she and her associates worked right through it. Only the hospitals were unaffected by it, as they had their own generators and couldn't afford to lose power, in the midst of surgeries, and with all their essential life-preserving equipment.

“What do you want to do this weekend?” he asked, looking at her lovingly, and running a hand gently over her pale blond hair. He was dead tired, but he couldn't help noticing that she looked sexy and pretty. She never looked like an investment banker to him, just a very beautiful woman. Her professional expertise was purely coincidental, and about as unimportant to Steven as her income. He was proud of her, but he had never cared about how much money she made. When he married her, when she was in business school at Columbia, she had been on a full scholarship, and didn't have a penny. And all the good fortune, and rich rewards that had come her way since seemed nice to him, but he wouldn't have cared if they'd been starving and living in a studio apartment somewhere on the Upper West Side, which they would have been, if they had been living on his wages. But the financial disparity between them had never been an issue to either of them. She made a huge salary, and had made some excellent investments over the years, but he regarded it as a bonus for them, and in truth, it was of no real importance to him.

“I'd love to go to a baseball game,” she admitted with a grin. She was an avid baseball fan, when she had time, and so was he, but for once he was less than enthusiastic about the suggestion.

“In this heat? I love you, but I think you're crazy. How about a movie … after I spend the next twenty-four hours in bed with you. First things first, Mrs. Whitman.” He smiled at her lasciviously and she laughed. He had a healthy appetite for her, even when he was dead tired. It was rare for him to be too worn out to have sex with her, except when he'd had a particularly depressing day at work and lost a patient. Only she knew how much he suffered when he lost them, particularly children.

“Actually, I was thinking of getting my packing out of the way this afternoon, so I won't have to bother with it all weekend. Why don't you relax, clean up, have a nap, and by the time you wake up, I'll be all finished.”

“That's not a bad idea. I'm beat … but I'll only agree if you swear you won't sneak back to the office while I'm sleeping.”

“I swear. They don't expect to see me for a full two weeks, and I just want to remind you that I'm coming home to be with you next weekend, after we finish San Francisco. Callan is going to spend the weekend with his kids, and I'm taking the red-eye on Friday night. I'll be home at six o'clock Saturday morning, and I'm here till we leave for Boston on Sunday.”

“That's something at least. I guess I should be grateful for small favors.”

“You know, you could meet me in London the following weekend, or Paris, when I finish the road show.”

He looked momentarily intrigued as he thought about it and calculated briefly. “What weekend is that? Two weeks from now?” She nodded in answer. “Shit, I'm on call. Lucas has to be in Dallas for a meeting, and I'm in charge that weekend.”

“Don't worry about it, I'll come home. We can go to Paris some other time.” She leaned down to kiss him, and then wandered off to their bedroom to do her packing. And Steve headed for the bathroom and stood in the shower for nearly half an hour, to wash away the smell and the exhaustion and the sorrows of the trauma unit. And after that, he lay on their bed, relaxed and naked, and watched her moving quietly around the room to pack her bags, and within five minutes he was sound asleep, looking like the handsome man he was, as she stopped once or twice to smile, and watch him sleeping. As challenging as their lives and schedules were at times, they were still very much in love with each other, and she didn't overlook the fact that part of why their relationship worked so well was because he was so understanding and so patient. She knew that a lot of other men would have felt threatened by the demands her work put on her. But Steve never did, he was happy that she enjoyed what she did, and fulfilled by his own work. It was the perfect combination.

Meredith zipped her last bag shut just after four o'clock, and then sat down to read a magazine and relax, something she did too little of, but she had finished all her work, and even the endlessly revised red herring was complete now. Her briefcase sat next to her packed bags, and she had nothing to do for the next two and a half days except enjoy her husband. He was still sound asleep on their bed, and snoring softly when she heard an odd buzzing sound from the living room, and when she walked into the room to see what it was, she realized that it was his pager. She looked at it suspiciously for a long moment, like an animal that might attack if she got too close to it, but she also felt guilty on his behalf ignoring it. They knew he was off call and if they were paging him, she suspected it had to be important, maybe someone in dire straits needed an expertise that only Steve could offer. She walked slowly to where the pager lay, still on the kitchen counter, and glanced at the display. A flashing red light was going off on it, and the numbers 911 were repeated all across the screen. Whatever it was, there was no question that it was urgent. She picked it up, and stared at it, and then knew what she had to do. She was still holding it in her hand, when she walked softly back into their bedroom and ever so gently touched his shoulder. He stirred after only an instant, and smiled in his half sleep, and then reached out to find her breast with his hand. He was more than ready to make good on the promises he had made earlier, but with a frown, he heard the buzzing of his pager. He opened his eyes to look at her, and without a word, she handed it to him, and he saw the same numbers she had.

“Tell me I'm having a nightmare,” he said, rolling over, and taking it from her. “Lucas is there this weekend, they don't need me.” He groaned as he said it.

“Maybe you should call them,” she said softly, sitting on the bed next to him. “Maybe he wants to consult with you about something important.” He and Steve worked together very closely and had enormous respect and admiration for each other.

Steve sighed deeply as he sat up, and reached for the phone next to the bed, with an unhappy expression. “This better be good,” he said, as he punched in the numbers and waited. As always, in his opinion, they took a little too long to answer, but they were understaffed and always busy. “Dr. Whitman here,” he said tersely when they did. “I just got a 911 on my pager, with red lights. Tell me it was a mistake, Barbie,” he said, recognizing the voice on the other end, and then for a long time he listened, and Meredith couldn't assess what he was hearing. His face looked blank for a long moment, and then he squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit. How many? And how many did we get?” He groaned audibly when she responded. “Where are you putting them? The garage? … are they crazy? What are we supposed to do with a hundred and eighty-seven criticals? It sounds like Gettysburg, for chrissake…. all right, all right…. I'll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up the phone and looked at his wife mournfully. They had not only blown his night all to hell, but his weekend, and possibly his entire week. “You'd better turn on the news. Some fucking crazies tried to blow up the Empire State Building at four o'clock, just in time to get everyone still in their offices, and all the tourists. Nearly a hundred people were killed, over a thousand injured. They're sending us somewhere between two and three hundred critically injured people. They're splitting up the rest of the minor injuries between hospitals all over the city. I have seventy-five trauma beds available, and over a hundred people in the halls now, with paramedics, and another hundred coming in, in the next hour. They're calling in medical personnel from Long Island and New Jersey. There goes our weekend. I'm sorry, baby.”

He looked like his best friend had died, but in fact a lot of people's best friends had died, and husbands and wives, and children. It sounded like the Titanic. Meredith flipped on the TV while he dressed and there were bulletins about it on every channel. There was a gaping hole in one side of the building, from what they could see, and so much smoke surrounding the building, from fires the bomb had caused and the explosion itself, that it looked like a volcano.

They both stood staring at it for a moment, and then the cameras panned to the snarl of ambulances and fire engines on the street below, people still being ushered from the building, some of them having crawled down a hundred flights of stairs in smoke and darkness, covered with blood and lacerations, and then there were some grisly shots of tarp-covered bodies. It was an abysmal example of what the human race was at times capable of, and what gave Steve his business. “How can anyone do something like that?” Meredith asked in a choked voice as Steve pulled the drawstring on his scrub pants, and stuck his bare feet into clogs. At least he had slept for two hours, and felt human again. It was going to be a long haul for him now, and they both knew it. “Can I do anything if I come with you?” She hated the thought of sitting at home, useless. And her heart ached at what they had just seen on the news bulletin.

“I don't think so, sweetheart. Volunteers aren't much help in a mess like this. The city will give us some civil defense people, and Barbie said something about sending us National Guard medical personnel from New Jersey. I'll call you when I get a minute.” She knew it wouldn't be anytime soon, from what they had just seen on television.

He was dressed and gone in the next two minutes, and she sat down on their bed, staring at the TV in disbelief and horror, as they interviewed dozens of victims. She switched to another channel then, and it was even more gruesome. She couldn't begin to imagine what Steve would be seeing at work, especially if they were only sending them the critically injured. It reminded her, but much worse, of the 1995 bombing in Oklahoma.

And for the next twenty-four hours, she heard nothing from Steven. She stayed in the apartment, afraid to miss his call, if he had a free minute to call her, which he didn't. And she went over her materials for the trip again, for lack of anything better to do. He called her finally on Saturday, at midnight. It was thirty-one hours since he had walked out of their apartment. He said he hadn't sat down, slept, or eaten anything but potato chips and doughnuts since he'd last seen her. They had lost fifty-two of the nearly three hundred critically injured that had been sent to them, and the others were still in grave to critical condition. There had been some children, too, inevitably, and an entire day camp group among the tourists.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, sounding worried.

“I'm fine, babe. This is what I do for a living. I could have been a dermatologist if I wanted holidays and weekends. I'm just sorry not to be spending this particular weekend with you before you leave.” But that was the way their life worked, and they both knew it. It was something she had long since accepted. “I don't think I'll get home before you go,” he said, sounding apologetic.

“Don't worry about it. I'll see you next weekend.”

“I'll probably be here till then. I'll call you later. I've got to go now.” He was still doing surgeries, and they were still getting transfers from other hospitals that couldn't cope with the severity of the cases they'd gotten. He knew he'd be dealing with chaos for days, and when he called her again later that night, things hadn't improved much. And she didn't hear from him again after that until late Sunday morning. And by then, he sounded exhausted. He said he'd managed to sleep for a couple of hours the night before, but other than that, he hadn't slept since he left her. He was living on black coffee.

“You've got to get some sleep, Steve.” She worried about him being too tired to make sense, or making poor decisions, but that never seemed to happen. He tried to keep his hours within a reasonable time frame most of the time, but in major emergencies all limits and guidelines went right out the window. And in a case like this, she knew he'd stay at the hospital as long as he had to. He seemed to be able to stay on his feet forever, and in truth, she knew he thrived on it. He didn't like what had happened to his patients to bring them to him, but once they were his, he gave them his all, and would have died for them. It was what made him so good at trauma. He had the stamina of a warhorse.

“I'm going to sleep for a couple of hours now,” he promised her. “I'm scheduled for surgery again in a few hours. But Lucas is here, and he's covering for me.” They were a great team, and Meredith was sure that they had saved countless lives since the explosion. Earlier that day, a group of militant lunatics had taken responsibility for it, but so far, none of the perpetrators had been apprehended. “I'll call you before you leave tomorrow.”

It was hard to believe it was already nearly Monday. Even to her, her trip seemed mundane by comparison, and so shockingly unimportant in the face of this tragedy that had claimed so many innocent people. “You'd better get to the airport early tomorrow, sweetheart,” he warned, “they're going to be tightening security everywhere, and it may take you awhile to check in.” It was a good reminder, and she made a mental note to leave early, although she was only going to Chicago.

“I'll call you from the road, if I can get through to you. Don't worry if you can't call me. I know you're busy.” He laughed at the word, busy didn't even begin to touch it. You could still hardly walk through the halls of the trauma unit. There were people on gurneys, on stretchers the paramedics had left them on, some even on mattresses on the floor. They were filled to the rafters, and the whole trauma unit staff was exhausted.

“Thank God most of them are on IVs and we don't have to feed them,” he said ironically. The National Guard had provided food trucks outside to feed the staff, and the Red Cross had sent them a battalion of volunteers trained on advanced first aid to help them. “Have a good trip, Merrie … knock ‘em dead in Chicago!!”

“Thanks, sweetheart. Take care of yourself. Don't get too worn out if you can help it.”

“Yeah. … I thought I'd play some tennis tomorrow and catch a massage afterward … be a good girl … don't wander around the road show in your underwear … or that Dow guy….” He still remembered the Gary Cooper comparison and didn't love it, but he trusted her and knew she had always been faithful to him. He just hated it when they didn't have time together, and they hadn't in weeks now. He was hoping to improve on that once his disaster and her travels were over. “Maybe we can go away for a weekend.”

“I'd love that.”

He called her again just before she left for the airport on Monday afternoon, but he was between surgeries and had to get off the phone in a matter of seconds. And with that, she picked up her bags and her briefcase, and went downstairs to catch a cab to the airport. It was a zoo there. As Steve had predicted the day before, they had tightened security every step of the way, and it took her over an hour to check in for her flight to Chicago. She felt as though she were leaving a war zone. There were even armed security guards and soldiers at the airport carrying machine guns.

It was a relief to get on the plane finally, and to get off in the relative calm of O'Hare in Chicago. An hour later she was at her hotel, and when she checked, Callan Dow hadn't arrived yet. He called her from his own room half an hour later, and he sounded like a kid going to camp for the first time, a little scared and a lot excited.

“That's some city you live in,” he said, without preamble. “I've been watching all that on the news since Friday. Christ, it's awful!”

“Yes, it is. My husband works at the principal trauma hospital in New York. They've had over three hundred critically injured patients transferred in since Friday.”

“He must be a busy guy,” Callan said admiringly.

“He is. I haven't seen him since then. It sounded terrible every time I talked to him. There are nearly two hundred fatalities now from the explosion. Anyway, how about you? All ready for the big show tomorrow?” They were starting with a breakfast meeting in the morning, where they would make their presentation to representatives of the institutions that were their potential investors. There would be a slide show, she would speak for a few minutes and introduce Callan Dow, who would then make a presentation, followed by one given by his CFO, Charlie McIntosh, who had come with him, and a brief time for questions and answers. And at lunch time, they would start all over again and do it for another group of potential investors. She knew that by the end of the week, it would all be familiar to him, but for the moment, before it all began, she expected him to be nervous. This was the big moment they had all worked so hard for. And Meredith wasn't anxious at all. To her, it was a thrill seeing who was there, and orchestrating it all with infinite precision, particularly if they were well received, and the book was oversold, which meant they had far more orders for shares than they had shares to sell. Their goal was always to be oversubscribed, by having more orders than they could meet, which would ensure a strong price in the aftermarket, if there were not enough shares to go around. In that case a “green shoe” of five to ten percent more shares, would have to be added to what was previously available, which would add some more shares, but not enough to supply all the orders. It was highly desirable to leave potential investors hungry for more, which would be a real victory for Callan's firm and the underwriters. And she was hoping that in this case, that would happen.

“I hate to admit it,” Callan said sheepishly, sounding boyish, “I think I'm a little jittery. I feel like a virgin.”

“You won't for long,” she laughed. “By the time we hit New York, you'll be a pro at this, and I guarantee you'll love it. It's addictive.”

“If you say so.”

She gave him the details of who would be there both at the breakfast and the lunch meetings the next day. And after lunch, they were flying to Minneapolis to do a dinner there, and breakfast again on Wednesday morning. And then, on to Los Angeles for another dinner, and a full day in L.A. on Thursday, and up to San Francisco after dinner, for yet another breakfast and lunch on Friday. He was going home then, and she was taking the red-eye back to New York, hopefully to see Steve for the weekend. She wouldn't have seen him for a week by then, and she was sure they would both be exhausted, but she wanted to be with him. But she had a lot of work to do in the meantime.

“I'm worn out just listening to our schedule,” Callan said, sounding pleased about it. “If any of our flights are delayed, we may blow the whole deal,” he said, sounding worried.

“I have backup arrangements for chartered jets in every city, if we need them. We'll see how it goes. But tomorrow is a quick hop from here to Minneapolis.” She sounded in full control, as always. She had thought of everything. She was used to this, and to handling all the most minute details. She had even found out from his secretary what he liked to drink, and there was a bottle of his favorite Chardonnay and the makings of a Sapphire martini in his room at the hotel, which was a little touch that he appreciated when he looked around his suite. She was quite a woman. “You'd better get lots of rest tonight, so you're fresh for our first show tomorrow,” she said, sounding like a house mother in a boys’ school, and he laughed at her.

“Actually, I was hoping you'd have dinner with me. We can make it an early night, Meredith. But if I sit here by myself worrying about tomorrow, it'll drive me crazy.” She seemed to hesitate for a long moment. She had spent a quiet weekend at home, without Steve, and dinner appealed to her.

“I'm not sure I should let you do that, but maybe if we make it early, Cal. I don't want you staying up late.” He laughed again and promised to go to his room immediately after dinner.

“You sound like me with my kids. I'll be good. I promise. I'll just come back here and drink martinis till tomorrow morning.”

“Oh great,” Meredith laughed. “Maybe I should take those bottles away. I think we may have to just give you a sleeping pill and knock you out. You're going to be fine, you know. You're going to be very proud of Dow Tech when this is all over. We all will be.”

“I'm just so grateful to you for everything you've done for me, Meredith. You've been incredible.” He sounded sincere and very humble.

“No more so than anyone else in the firm, Cal,” she said modestly. “There were a lot of people involved in this, and the analysts and the market makers have been very supportive, as have been my partners.”

“Even the SEC has been pretty good to us,” he said, sounding pleased. The prospectus had been very straightforward, and so far, they seemed to like it. “Anyway, let's go have dinner and celebrate. It's probably the last decent dinner we'll have all week.” He'd already heard that road show meals were traditionally inedible and usually featured what was referred to as “rubber chicken.” But he didn't really care what they'd be eating, he just wanted the presentations to go well. And in Meredith's capable hands, he was beginning to feel as optimistic as she did.

They agreed to meet in the lobby at seven thirty and he said he'd make a reservation at the Pump Room, which was actually one of Meredith's favorite places in Chicago. She had been there often, and loved it.

As promised, she met him promptly at seven thirty. He had arranged for a limo to take them to the restaurant, and it was waiting outside, and he looked as handsome and well dressed as he always did, with his healthy California suntan. He always looked more like an actor or a male model than a businessman to her, but she had worked with him for long enough that she no longer paid any attention to it. And what she liked best about him was his bright mind, quick wit, and easygoing sense of humor. She always had a good time when she was with him.

They chatted on the way to the restaurant, and were shown to a quiet corner table. And after they had ordered steaks and wine, he turned to her with a smile, and asked her a question she hadn't expected.

“So tell me about this Dr. Kildare you're married to, Meredith. Trauma work must be pretty intense, particularly after a disaster like this weekend. You mustn't see much of him.”

“Sometimes I don't,” she smiled, “but I'm pretty busy too. We're a good balance for each other.”

“Have you been married for a long time?” He seemed to be intrigued about her, and she never talked about her personal life. All he knew of her was how she handled her professional dealings.

“Fourteen years. We got married when I was at Columbia, in business school.” Their wine had arrived by then, and the waiter poured it for them.

“Do you have children?”

“Nope.” She said it in a surprisingly firm tone, and he raised an eyebrow at the way she answered.

“That sounds like a resounding nope. I take it the idea doesn't appeal much.” He was curious about her.

“Not at this point. Neither of us has time. I always thought we'd have them one day … but I just can't see when. I'm beginning to think it may never happen.”

“Would that be a disappointment to you, if it didn't?” He seemed hungry to know more about her, but she was comfortable talking to him. And in the next two weeks, they were going to see a lot of each other. There didn't seem to be any harm in knowing more about each other.

“It wouldn't be a disappointment to me,” she said honestly. “In some ways it would be a relief, not to worry about it, or have to figure out how and if we could do it, and still be fair to the kids and each other. But it would be a disappointment to my husband, if we didn't have children. He's been talking about it a lot lately.’’

“And you? Have you been talking about it too?” Cal pressed her.

She smiled in answer to his question. “I've been talking about your IPO, and your red herring, that's what I've been talking about.”

“That says something, doesn't it?” He smiled at her.

“I just can't see the point of having kids when you're in the office till midnight most of the time, and sometimes two in the morning. And when things get crazy at work, Steve works sixty-eight to seventy-two-hour shifts, until there's a real emergency, and then he's gone for however long he has to be. Where are we supposed to fit kids into all that? On the occasional long weekend, or for a week in the summer? It wouldn't be fair to the kids. They deserve more than that from their parents. What about you? How do you manage it? You said you have three children, the last time I was in California.”

“I do. Their mother was a lot like you. She's an entertainment attorney. She was working in L.A. when I met her. I was living down there too then. She didn't even want to get married. I talked her into marrying me, ‘forced her’ to, as she said later, and when I moved up to San Francisco to get involved in Silicon Valley years ago, she refused to come with me.”

“And that was the end of it?” Meredith looked surprised that his wife had been so adamant about it. San Francisco didn't seem like a bad place to live, and she assumed there had to be entertainment lawyers there too, though maybe not of the magnitude of those in L.A. But Callan smiled as he answered her.

“No, that wasn't the end of it. She commuted. It was a crazy existence. We were never in the same city at the same time, and when we were, we were either annoyed about something, out of touch with each other, or exhausted. The only surprising part of it is that that was when we decided to have children. Maybe decided isn't the right word exactly. The first one was an accident, and the next two were a result of my convincing her that it wasn't fair to have an only child.”

“I'm an only child,” Meredith said with a look of amusement.

“So am I,” Callan said, and didn't really surprise her. He had the kind of intensity and drive and urge to succeed typical of only children. “It's all right now, but I didn't think it was much fun as a kid. And I thought that as busy as we were, it would be better for them to have siblings.”

“I'm surprised she went along with that theory.”

“She was a good sport. She really tried for a while. We both wanted to make it work, but I guess I wasn't very realistic. She was never very maternal, and she was far more interested in business than in her children. She hired a nanny, and as soon as she had each of them, she headed back to L.A. on the next plane she could get on. She acted more like a visiting aunt when she came home on weekends, when she did, than their mother. And eventually, she came home less and less often. She said it was too noisy and too confusing. The truth is, I'd never say it to them, but the kids drove her crazy.” It sounded sad to Meredith, and exactly what she didn't want to happen in her life. She wondered how they were now, and how high a price they had paid emotionally for their mother's bad behavior.

“Where is she now?”

“That's another story. What I didn't realize in the midst of all that was that she and her partner had been romantically involved for several years before we met, and for most of our marriage. We'd been married for seven years before she told me. And by then, we had three kids, and she wanted out. She gave me custody of the children without batting an eye, they closed their practice in L.A. a year later, and moved to London to open up an office there. We've been divorced for eight years, and she finally married him a few years ago, and I think they're very happy. Needless to say, they don't have children.”

“Does she ever see the kids?”

“She flies over a couple of times a year for a few days, usually if one of her clients is making a movie in L.A., and then she comes up to see the kids. And she takes them to the South of France for a few weeks every summer.” She sounded heartless to Meredith, and she couldn't help feeling sorry for his children.

“Do they hate her for it … or are they just heartbroken?”

“Neither one. I think they accept her as she is. They've never known anything different. And I'm around most of the time. I try not to work too late usually, and they can always call me at the office if they have a problem. My house is only about five minutes from the office. Weekends are sacred, and I take a month off to be with them in Tahoe every summer. It's worked out pretty well, though not exactly what I had in mind in the beginning. I thought we were going to have one of those perfect little families with a mommy and a daddy and a flock of little children. Instead, it's just me and the flock … or rather, the flock and I.” He smiled at her. “We have a good time together, and they keep me pretty busy, mostly on weekends.”

“I'm surprised you never remarried,” Meredith said honestly. “It can't be easy bringing up three kids on your own.”

“In some ways it's easier,” he said with surprising candor. “You don't have to argue with anyone about how to bring them up. There are no battles over what's right or wrong or good for them. You get to make all your own decisions. We have a good relationship, and I think they respect me. And to be honest, I think Charlotte cured me. I've never been anxious to get into that kind of relationship again. There's something incredibly artificial and dishonest about marriage.” Particularly if your wife spent the entire marriage sleeping with her business partner. But Meredith was careful not to say that. After all, they may have been friends, but he was still a client.

“You must have been pretty badly hurt when she told you the truth,” Meredith said gently. “Were you surprised, or did you suspect it?”

“I never suspected it for a minute. I thought she was the most honest woman alive. And so did she. In fact, she was very proud of herself that he was the only ‘other’ man she had ever slept with while we were married. In her eyes, that was almost as good as being faithful. I didn't see it quite that way. I was pretty bitter about it for a long time.”

“And now?” Meredith asked, as they finished their first glass of wine and started on dinner. It had been an interesting conversation, and a surprising glimpse into the private man. It was a story that made her sorry for him. If Steve ever had an affair, she knew she would have been heartbroken. In Steve's case, she knew he never would. But Callan's wife sounded like a different breed completely. “Do you think you're still bitter about it?”

“Bitter? No, not now. I still get angry about it sometimes when I think about it. It wasn't exactly fair play, but that's the way it works sometimes. I'm just not inclined to do anything as foolish as that again. I don't need to put my head on the chopping block and offer someone the opportunity to knock it off, or rip my heart out. Marriage can be kind of a tough playing field at times, kind of like the Colosseum. I just don't have the urge anymore, to offer myself up to the lions.” The images he used were strong, and so was the picture he painted with them. He had been betrayed by the one woman he had loved and trusted, the mother of his children, and it was obvious that he had never forgiven her for it, or entirely recovered from it either. And Meredith wasn't sure she blamed him.

“How old are your kids now?”

He smiled as soon as she asked the question. It was easy to see that he was crazy about them. “Mary Ellen is fourteen, not an easy age, I might add. She thought I was great until about a year ago, according to her my IQ has been slipping ever since then. She thinks I'm senile. Julie is twelve, and still thinks I'm okay, but she's starting to slip into that same red zone. In another year I'll be heading downhill with her pretty quickly. And Andrew is nine. By some miracle, he still thinks I'm terrific. I hope you meet them sometime, Merrie.” Without prompting, he had adopted the same nickname Steve used, but she didn't mind it.

“I hope I do too. They sound like nice kids.” But she couldn't help wondering how hard it was for them not having a mother figure around, particularly for girls going into their teens. She couldn't imagine that it was easy for them, or for Cal either. And it was a very intriguing story. He was a man of many faces, and it was interesting knowing something more about him. She didn't want to ask, but she wondered if he had a girlfriend, or if he was one of those men who, once bruised, was satisfied to have a chorus line of temporary companions, maybe even one at a time, to be disposed of any time they got too close to him. He didn't sound like a man who was willing to entertain the idea of commitment, not after what he'd experienced the first time, and in a way, she felt sorry for him.

But he surprised her with his next question. “Why do you think you don't want kids, Meredith? You're missing out on a wonderful experience, but people who don't have them don't know that.”

“I've never had time to have a baby. I'm just too busy. It wouldn't be fair to my children. I don't want to do what your wife did, hire a nanny, and rush back to my office. I think children deserve to have full-time mothers, and to be honest, I think I'd hate that. I have too much fun doing what I'm doing.”

“Do you really think it's that, or is it more a statement about your level of commitment to your husband?” She was stunned when he asked her the question, and she was quick to shake her head when she answered.

“I think Steve and I are about as committed to each other as two people can get. That's never been the issue between us. It's really entirely career-related.”

“That's what Charlotte said when I first suggested we have kids. But the truth was something very different. She was in love with another man, who had never wanted to marry her. And I don't think she was as sure of her feelings about me as she thought she should be. I think when a woman really trusts a man, she wants to have his children. Maybe you're not as sure of Dr. Kildare as you think you are, Meredith, or your feelings for him.” It was a shocking theory, and she didn't even like hearing it. There was certainly no truth in it for them, whether or not Callan Dow believed her.

“I promise you, it's not that in our case. We're very much in love with each other. Maybe I'm just one of those women who don't need to have children, and I'm smart enough to know it. I probably wouldn't be a very good mother. But it has nothing to do with a lack of commitment to my husband.”

“I'm not sure I believe you, Meredith. You may think you're committed to him, but I think it's only natural if you truly trusted the relationship, you'd want to have his children.” Just listening to him say it to her suddenly annoyed her.

“That is utterly ridiculous, Cal, and you know it. I can't believe you actually think something as chauvinistic as that. You've got to tell me you're joking.”

“I'm not. You don't have to admit it to me. But think about it when you're alone tonight. Why is it that you really don't want his children?”

“Because I've spent the last twelve years doing exactly what I'm doing for you, organizing syndicates, writing red herrings with the legal staff, and taking clients on road shows. Just how much time do you think I'd have for my children?”

“As much as you wanted to. Your clients are no substitute for a baby in your arms, Meredith. We all come and go, a child is forever. But maybe your marriage isn't.” At a glance, he saw then that he'd offended her, and with a kindly look, he changed the subject. And for the next two hours they talked about his IPO and the road show. But in spite of the assurances she'd given him, he had nonetheless managed to unnerve her. And when she went back to her room at the hotel, shortly after ten o'clock, she was still thinking about it. What he had said was ridiculous. She had the kind of valid reasons women used all the time not to make a terrible mistake, in having children when they didn't want them, or if they weren't ready. Her career was as important to her as his was to Steve, and in its own way, hers was equally demanding. Unless she wanted to cut back radically, or leave the firm, there was no way she could reconcile her business life with having babies. Even Steve understood that, and she couldn't imagine why Callan Dow didn't. Just because he had three kids didn't mean that everyone else was suited to it, or would even enjoy it. God knows his wife certainly hadn't, and what she had done seemed worse to Meredith, having them, and then giving them up and virtually abandoning them for a man, a career, and a life in another country. That was something Meredith would never consider doing, once she had them. She preferred not to put herself in the same bind Charlotte Dow obviously had, and then renege on her responsibilities as a mother. Meredith would have had her tubes tied before that, and had often thought about it, but she knew that Steve would be upset if she did that. He had in fact begged her not to.

But she couldn't understand why she couldn't convince Callan Dow that she was completely committed to her marriage, and the simple reality that she didn't want kids certainly didn't mean she didn't love Steve. On the contrary, she loved him so much, she didn't want to share him.

She was still upset by what he'd said when she got into bed that night, and after lying in the dark for half an hour, stewing over it, she decided to call Steve, just to tell him she loved him. The nurse answering the phones at the trauma unit said she didn't know where he'd gone, she'd seen him only ten minutes before, but she thought he was on another floor, picking up some X-rays, so Meredith paged him. She punched in her number at the hotel and waited for his call. But twenty minutes later, he hadn't called, and she wondered if he was back in surgery again. And as she waited for his call, she drifted off to sleep, thinking about him, but even as she did, she had a gnawing, uneasy feeling. She knew in her heart of hearts that she was entirely committed to him, in fact very much in love with him, and she didn't give a damn who believed it, as long as Steve did. And the fact that she didn't want kids was irrelevant, all it meant was that she had other priorities in her life, she assured herself. But once she slept, she tossed and turned all night, pursued by dreams where Steve was shouting at her, and as he did, he was surrounded by armies of children who howled and screamed and clawed at her like little demons.

Chapter 5

THE DUE DILIGENCE tour that Meredith put on for Callan Dow went brilliantly. Chicago was a huge success, his speech went over very well, and even the CFO performed admirably. The questions the audience asked were intelligent and to the point, and Cal's answers were exactly what they wanted to hear. And Minneapolis went even better.

By the time they got to L.A., Cal and Meredith were both on a high, and they were already nearly fully subscribed. There was almost certainly going to be a “green shoe” on this one. They were going to have far more investors than they needed.

She was in such good spirits, and had had such a good time with him, that Meredith had almost forgiven him for the ridiculous thing he'd said in Chicago about her marriage. She had decided by then that his point of view was based on his own bad experience with marriage. Neither of them had ever mentioned it again, and they had fallen into an easy camaraderie as they moved from city to city. And she had spoken to Steve twice since then. He had finally gotten home for a night, and things had calmed down considerably in the trauma unit. She could hardly wait to see him.

She put on another dinner in Los Angeles, and three more presentations the next day, and between breakfast and lunch they had had time to meet privately with two major investors. Things were looking great for their offering, and after the second dinner in L.A., on Thursday night, they flew to San Francisco. They landed at ten fifteen, and she had a car and driver waiting for him, and another to take her to the Fairmont Hotel. Cal was planning to go home to his children and would meet her for their breakfast presentation at the Fairmont. It had been a long three days for both of them, but it had been extremely fruitful.

“Will you be okay?” he asked solicitously. They were constantly exchanging roles. She took care of him during their meetings and presentations on the due diligence tour, and he acted like her older brother as they traveled, or chatted between meetings. “I feel guilty just leaving you here at the airport.” After three days of being together night and day, they felt like old friends now.

“I think I can manage,” she smiled at him. “Go home and enjoy your kids. I'm just going to go to the hotel, take a hot bath, and relax. I'll see you in the morning.”

“I'll be there at seven thirty,” he promised. The presentation was scheduled for eight. They were doing another one at lunch, they were seeing two more private investors after that, both of them universities, and then she was catching the red-eye. “Maybe you can come to dinner with the kids tomorrow night, after our meetings.”

“See how you feel by then,” she said sensibly. “You must be sick of me by now. I don't want to intrude on you with your kids. I have plenty of work to do.” She was still carrying the ever-present briefcase.

“You need some time off too. And my kids would love to meet you.”

“Let's play it by ear tomorrow,” she said as they walked out of the airport together. “See you in the morning.” She waved as they went their separate ways, and as soon as she got to her room in the hotel, Steve called her.

“When are you coming home? I miss you!”

“I miss you too, sweetheart. I'll be home by seven Saturday morning. Are you working?”

“I am now. But I'm off tomorrow night. Just climb into bed when you get home on Saturday and wake me.”

“That's the best offer I've had all week,” she smiled. The ugly things Cal had said about her marriage were all but forgotten. She knew they didn't apply to her. He was just a cynic.

“I should hope that's the best offer you've had all week. That guy's not hitting on you, is he?”

“Of course not. This is strictly business.”

“How's it going?”

“Terrific. I can't wait till we get to New York. We're doing Boston on Monday, and then New York on Tuesday. I don't have to leave for Boston till Sunday night, by the way. We'll have almost two whole days together.”

“Shit. I was afraid of that. I'm working on Sunday, for Lucas.”

“That's all right, at least we'll have Saturday.”

“I told you, it's like being married to a flight attendant. The only thing you don't do is serve me dinner.”

“I'll bring home some of those little bottles of tequila from the flight tomorrow night if you want.”

“Just bring you home. I can't wait to see you.” It had been a long week for both of them, and she was equally anxious to see him. She had been following the aftermath of the Empire State bombing on the news, and they still hadn't caught the men who did it. More people had died since the initial blast. The death toll was up to more than three hundred, in spite of Steve and his colleagues’ best efforts.

They chatted for a few more minutes then, and she took a bath. And as she was reading in bed, Callan called with a few casual questions.

“It seems odd not being in the same hotel with you, Merrie. This could become a habit.” He sounded relaxed and friendly.

“You'll be happy to see the last of me after Europe, trust me. But first we go to New York. That's the biggie.”

“I know it is. I'm still a little anxious about it.”

“Don't be. It's gone great so far. And the word is out on the street now. The book is going to be oversold by New York. And the tombstone is going to read like a Who's Who of investment banking.” She was referring to the ad that would appear in The Wall Street Journal the day following the offering that would announce the completion of the deal, listing all the underwriters in the syndicate. And in this case, they would be impressive.

“Thanks to you, Meredith,” he said gratefully. “I could never have done this without you.”

“Bullshit,” she said irreverently, and he laughed. He had come to enjoy working with her, and he was sorry it was going to have to end soon. “How were your kids when you got home? Happy to see you, I'll bet.” Especially with no mother around, she knew how important Callan must be to them.

“They were asleep actually. My housekeeper rules the roost with an iron fist. It's good for them. I'll see them tomorrow night when I get home. I thought I'd stop by the office first. Maybe you'd like to come with me.”

“Sure. I can come by on the way to the airport.” She had every intention of sitting in the first-class lounge with her reading material, having a sandwich quietly, and catching the red-eye.

“We'll talk about that later,” he said discreetly, and then told her to get some sleep and he'd see her in the morning.

And after they hung up, she lay in bed thinking about him. He was a nice man, and had the makings of a good friend, but in a way she felt sorry for him. It was so obvious, even to her, that he had been badly wounded by his wife's betrayal, and eventual desertion. He loved his kids, but there obviously was no longer room in his heart to trust another woman. It was as though Charlotte had destroyed a part of him, and now, eight years later, there was a piece of him still missing. As a result, he couldn't understand the kind of bond she had with Steve, and he was suspicious of it. Thinking of it brought her mind back to Steve again, and she smiled to herself, thinking of how much she missed him, and how happy she would be to see him on Saturday morning. They were lucky, after fourteen years, they still had something very special. And Cal's theory that she didn't love or trust him enough to have children with him seemed like nonsense to her. She drifted off to sleep thinking of Steve, as usual, and her dreams that night were peaceful.

She met Cal the next morning in the lobby at seven thirty, as agreed. They took a short walk around Huntington Park to get some air, and then came back for a cup of coffee. Meredith was surprised at how chilly it was, there was a brisk breeze and a halo of fog still hung over the city. But it felt good to get out for a change, instead of sitting around in stuffy rooms, giving their presentation.

“Ready for the next round?” she asked him as they shared a blueberry muffin.

“All set. What about you? Tired of Dow Tech yet?” He looked energetic and refreshed after a night in his own bed, and he had been happy to see his kids as he left the house to meet Meredith for breakfast.

“Of course I'm not tired of Dow Tech,” she smiled at him, as the waitress poured them each a second cup of coffee. “We still have new worlds to conquer.” But they both knew that San Francisco was going to be easy for them. It was his hometown, and people in San Francisco were familiar with what he had already accomplished in Silicon Valley.

Their first presentation of the day went well, they got a brief break after that, and she got a chance to call her office. And then they went right into lunch, and their next presentation. They had the ritual rubber chicken, and by two thirty they were finished, and everything was packed up. Callan glanced at his watch, and said he thought he might go back to his office, and he invited Meredith to join him.

“I think I might try to catch an earlier flight,” she explained. There was a five o'clock she said she could be on, which would get her home to New York by one o'clock in the morning. And she knew Steve would love it.

But when she called the airline from the hotel, they told her the flight was booked solid. She was stranded till the red-eye. She told Callan she'd wait at the hotel, and do some reading. But he was insistent. He wanted her to come to Palo Alto with him to see the people at his office again, before she left San Francisco. And he wanted her to come to the house, if she had the time, to meet his children.

“You've been gone all week, you'll have plenty to do without having me underfoot,” she insisted.

“I like having you underfoot. Besides, I'm always open to free advice.” He had enormous respect for her opinions, and she knew almost as much about Dow Tech now as he did. He was so proud of his company and family that he was anxious to share both with her. He was so insistent about it that, in the end, it seemed rude not to go with him. She went upstairs and got her bags, and joined him ten minutes later in the lobby. And by three thirty, they were in Palo Alto, everyone in his office seemed pleased to see him, and wanted to know about the road show.

“It's gone off without a hitch so far,” he said with a broad smile, and a glance at Meredith. “Thanks to Mrs. Whitman,” he told his colleagues. Charlie McIntosh had gone home after the lunch at the Fairmont. He wasn't a young man, and he was tired after a solid week of presentations. Meredith would have hated to admit it to Cal, but it was a relief not to have his cantankerous comments and negative opinions to deal with. It had been a strain working with him. And as they sat in Cal's office that afternoon, he commented on it. “I don't know what to do about him, Merrie. I thought he'd be on the bandwagon by now, but he's still mad as hell that I'm taking the company public. He's fundamentally opposed to it, for entirely sincere reasons. But it's counterproductive at this point. But because he feels so strongly about it, he resents the work it's going to represent for him, dealing with analysts, and the SEC, and shareholders. He just plain thinks we're wrong about all this. And he doesn't want anyone looking over his shoulder, not even me at times. He's going to make money on this, but I'm not even sure he cares. He just doesn't want me to do it.”

“Let me talk to him,” Meredith said. She still thought she could bring him around. Charlie hadn't said anything that had hurt them yet, but he hadn't helped them much either.

“I'm not sure that's the right tack,” Cal said cautiously. Charlie's resentment of Meredith had not abated, and he didn't want to aggravate it any further. “Let's wait and see if he calms down, and can make the transition on his own. I really don't want to push him.” Cal had a lot of respect for him, and Charlie had been a friend of Cal's father.

“If he doesn't adjust his attitude,” Meredith warned, “your shareholders may not find him too charming.” She was still worried about it, as Cal was.

“Poor old Charlie,” Cal said, and they went on to other subjects. He showed her a number of reports, and they talked about some new ideas he was developing, and once again, she was impressed by how creative he was, and how far ahead in his thinking. It was an important part of why he was so successful. And at five thirty he looked up at her, as he sat back comfortably in his chair, and asked her a strange question. “Have you ever thought about leaving investment banking, Meredith?” She was extraordinarily good at it, he knew better than anyone, but she also had a profound interest in high-tech business. “You'd be good at the kind of thing I do, and you'd probably make a hell of a lot more money.”

“I do all right,” she said with a shy smile.

“You'd make more here,” Callan Dow said gently. “If you ever decide to make a change, I'd love to hear from you, Merrie. I hope you know that.”

“I'm very flattered. But I'm not going anywhere for the moment.” She and Steve were too tied into New York to think of going anywhere. He had a good job in the trauma unit, and she was married to Wall Street.

“That could be truer than you know,” Callan Dow said. “In an old-guard firm the size of yours, Meredith, how high can you go? You're already a partner, but there are a lot of very old, very solid, very well-entrenched senior partners. You're never going to run the place. They'd never let a woman do that, and you know it.”

“They might someday,” she said calmly. “Times are changing.”

“Times have already changed just about everywhere else. Things are a lot slower moving in investment banking. It's the last bastion of the gentlemen who used to run the world, and still do in some places. I think you've already carved a remarkable spot for yourself, particularly in dealing with high-tech companies for them. But the reality is they're still sending guys like Paul Black out to see clients with you. Those guys still have more power than you do. You do the work, and they get all the glory.” It was something she had thought herself for years, but she didn't want to admit it to him.

“You're a real rabble-rouser, aren't you, Mr. Dow?” She looked at him with a broad grin. “What do you want me to do? Go back and quit? They'd love that.”

“No, I guess I'm just shit-disturbing a little bit. When I see a good thing, I hate not having a piece of the action. We work well together, Meredith. We think alike in a lot of ways. I hate to waste that.”

She couldn't help agreeing with him, but they hadn't exactly wasted it either. “I wouldn't say we've been wasting time, would you?” They had put together a hell of a good IPO, working together.

“Of course not. I'm just already thinking about how much I'm going to hate it when our stint together is over. I may have to call you for advice every day. I'm already having withdrawals, thinking about it.”

She laughed at what he said. “I told you, you'll be sick to death of me by the time the road show is over. But you can always call me.”

“You'll probably be on the road with some other novice, whining and sniveling and needing you to hold his hand while you take his company public.”

“Not for a while anyway. I'm going to take it easy for a few weeks. Steve and I have hardly seen each other all summer.”

“I don't know how you do that,” he said admiringly. “Maybe that's how you've kept your marriage together for fourteen years. Maybe it works better if you don't see each other all the time,” although that hadn't been true for him, and he knew that.

“Steve says it's like being married to a flight attendant.”

“Not exactly,” Cal smiled at her, and seemed to relax at the end of a long week. He was looking forward to spending the weekend with his children before he left for Boston on Sunday. “How about an early dinner with my little monsters? I'll take you to the airport myself in time for the red-eye. You won't have to leave the house till eight thirty.”

Although she had agreed to meet them, she had resisted the offer of dinner earlier, but it seemed too awkward now to keep insisting she didn't want to impose on him, she enjoyed his company, and was curious about his children. “Are you sure they won't mind your dragging a stranger home from the office?”

“They'll survive it. They're used to businesswomen, like their mother. They don't pay much attention to what I do. At this point, all the girls are interested in is short skirts and makeup. And all Andy cares about is my Ferrari. I don't talk about work much with them.”

“That's probably just as well. They've got plenty of time for that later.”

“We just got back from Tahoe last weekend, and they started school yesterday. They were all complaining about it this morning.”

They walked out of his office together, and almost everyone else had gone home by then. His Ferrari was in the parking lot. He had driven Meredith down from San Francisco in it, her bags were still in the trunk, and as she got back in now, he put the top down.

“We're only five minutes from my house. It's nice to get a little air,” he said easily. It was at least fifteen degrees warmer in Palo Alto than it had been in the city. And Meredith enjoyed the brief ride with the top down.

They were chatting comfortably, as he pulled into a driveway with hedges on either side, and a gate opened automatically when he pressed a button on his visor. And once it opened, she saw a handsome stone house, with a large expanse of lawn to one side, several beautiful old trees, and a big swimming pool, with a bunch of children in it, and several others sitting on deck chairs wrapped in towels. And there was a nice-looking woman in her midthirties watching them, while a golden retriever stood next to a little boy and then ran after a ball he'd just thrown him. It was an idyllic scene, and in total contrast to his high-tech business life. This was the world he loved to come home to. Several of the kids waved as he drove in, and parked the car, and Meredith could see one of the girls watching her with interest.

“Hi, kids,” he shouted in their general direction, and walked across the lawn toward them. There were at least ten children there, and Meredith realized that some of them had to be friends, but as soon as they approached, it was easy to see which ones were Callan's. The two girls he had described to her, Mary Ellen and Julie, looked exactly like him, so much so that it was almost funny. And Andy looked like a miniature of his father. All three of them stared at her as though she had just arrived from another planet, as he introduced her.

“We've just been on the due diligence tour together. In Chicago and Minneapolis and L.A. And next week we're going to Europe,” he explained as Andy eyed her with suspicion.

“Are you my dad's new girlfriend?” Meredith smiled at the question, and Cal was quick to reprimand him.

“Andy! That's a rude thing to say, and you know it.”

“Well, is she?” he persisted, as the dog brought the ball back and dropped it at the boy's feet, but Andy ignored him. Interrogating Meredith was more interesting than playing fetch with the retriever. And his sisters seemed to be listening with interest.

“Actually, I'm married. Your dad and I are just working together. My husband is a doctor,” she said, hoping to gain safe passage from them. Their friends were circling nearby, and the two girls seemed anxious to rejoin them.

“What kind of doctor?” Andy asked her. “Does he take care of kids?”

“Sometimes. He takes care of people who have terrible accidents, he's a trauma doctor.”

“I fell off my bike and broke my arm once,” he said, smiling at her. He had decided that she was pretty, and not necessarily after his father.

“That must have hurt,” Meredith sympathized.

“It did. Do you have children?”

“No, I don't,” she said, wondering if she should apologize for it. The two girls were still watching her, but neither of them had said more than hello when their father introduced them. But they didn't make any move to step away either. They were listening to her answers to their brother's questions, and seemed satisfied by them. “I'm going back to New York in a few hours,” she said, as though to reassure them. She somehow sensed that they thought she was a threat, even if she was married, and she wanted to assure them that she would be gone soon.

Cal offered her a glass of wine, and the children went back to their friends then. And half an hour later, as he and Meredith sat on the patio, drinking wine and chatting, the last of the friends left, and his kids went upstairs to change for dinner.

“Your children are beautiful,” she said after they'd gone in, “and they all look just like you.”

“Charlotte always said that Andy looked like my clone, even as a baby. And both of the girls look just like my mother. I think it was actually part of why Charlotte never bonded with them.” But from everything else he had said to her by then, Meredith suspected that there were more severe reasons for her not bonding with them, mostly her long-term affair with another man, and the fact that she had never wanted children. “They're not used to seeing anyone come home with me. They've only met one or two of the women I've gone out with.”

“Why is that?” She was startled by what he said, and it explained why they had seemed so suspicious of her.

“I don't think that part of my life is any of their business,” he said bluntly. “There hasn't been anyone serious enough in my life to warrant introducing them to the children.” It was hard to believe that in the eight years since his divorce he hadn't been seriously involved with a woman. It made her wonder about him, and come to the same conclusion she had come to before, that he was commitment-phobic ever since his wife's betrayal, although he claimed to have recovered.

They sat outside for a while, enjoying the balmy evening, and then he invited her to come inside to the large elegant living room, filled with English antiques and handsome works of art. And a few minutes later, the housekeeper told them dinner was ready. And like clockwork, the kids trooped downstairs, and then stood in the door of the living room, staring at her. She felt like an animal in the zoo, as the two girls glared at her, and she couldn't help wondering what they were thinking.

Callan got up, and walked slowly toward them. “So how was school, guys?” he asked easily, as Meredith followed behind him.

“I hate school,” Andy announced, but without any particular fervor. It sounded like a standard response, and Julie said grudgingly that she liked her new teacher. Mary Ellen said nothing.

“Are you in high school?” Meredith asked her politely as they walked into the dining room, and Cal pulled out the chair next to his and Meredith sat down in it.

“I'm a freshman,” Mary Ellen said tersely, and the word that sprang to Meredith's mind was sullen. She was totally unlike her easygoing father. She was a pretty girl, but her lack of enthusiasm and seeming lack of warmth made her appear somehow less attractive. From what Meredith could see, there was very little charm about her, and more than anything else, she seemed unhappy. Meredith couldn't help wondering if she was always that way, or if it was just due to the presence of an unexpected guest, and seeing her father with a woman.

Conversation during dinner was awkward and slow, with the children saying little, and Callan pretending he didn't notice. And Meredith eventually gave up trying to engage them in conversation. The one thing they made plain, without actually saying it, was that they had no interest in talking to her, or even in answering her questions. And she wasn't all that at ease with children. After awhile, she had no idea what to say to them, and even Callan couldn't seem to draw them out much. They asked to be excused immediately after dessert, and ran upstairs so fast when he let them go, they almost knocked each other down in the doorway.

“I'm sorry, Meredith,” he turned to her apologetically as the housekeeper served them coffee, and Meredith relaxed visibly. It had been a strain having dinner with his children. “I think they were worried about you. They're not usually like this. They're good kids. I think they just couldn't figure out who you were, or why you were here. I'll have to talk to them about it.”

“Don't be silly,” she said politely, “if you never bring women home, no wonder they were worried. Isn't that a little unreal, though? Don't your dates want to meet your kids?” It seemed an odd way to live, to her. And it obviously had disadvantages, if his children sat like stones when he finally did bring a woman home, even if she was a friend in business.

“What my dates want and what they get are two different stories,” Cal said, smiling at her. “There's no point introducing them if they're not going to be around long.”

“That's a hell of a statement, Cal. How do you know that right from the beginning?”

“Because that's the way it's been for a long time, and probably the way it will be for a lot longer. If I change my mind about it, I can always do something about it later. It's a lot easier to introduce someone to the kids down the road, than to explain to them why I'm not seeing her anymore. They don't need to know that.”

“I think not dealing with it must make them very possessive of you.” Which was a polite way of saying that they had looked like little ax murderers as they sat there. Their eyes had bored holes into Meredith all evening, and she hadn't enjoyed it. No one would have. But she was afraid to say too much. They were his children after all, and it was hardly her place to tell him that he wasn't bringing them up right. She suspected they probably were nice kids. They were healthy and good looking, and seemed intelligent, but they sure hadn't been friendly. In fact, given a bit of rope, she suspected they would have been hateful to her, especially Mary Ellen. Meredith couldn't help pitying the woman who would walk into that, because she was in love with Callan, and it might happen someday, in spite of his protests.

They talked about business again then, and at eight thirty, right on schedule, he drove her to the airport. He helped her check her bags in, and then walked her to the first-class lounge, and she thanked him for an interesting afternoon and a pleasant evening, and told him she had enjoyed meeting his children.

“I wish I believed that,” he said apologetically. “They weren't exactly terrific, Merrie, and I know that. I guess I need to start introducing them to people, friends like you, if no one else.”

“It might make it easier for them in the long run, if there's no threat involved. They have nothing to fear from me,” she said candidly, and he frowned.

“I'm not sure they believed that. Maybe they thought I was lying, and that I am involved with you. Maybe they thought you made up the story about your husband.”

“Why would I do a thing like that, Cal?” She looked shocked at the suggestion.

“Because it's the kind of thing their mother would do, if it suited her purpose. She lied to them about the man she eventually married. They suspected her involvement with him long before she admitted it to them. I've tried not to do the same thing to them, by telling them nothing.”

“Maybe the right thing to do is somewhere in the middle.”

“I'll have to try that,” he smiled, and then wished her a good trip, and told her he'd see her on Sunday night at the Ritz Carlton in Boston.

“I probably won't be there till midnight,” Meredith told him. “I wanted to spend a little time with my husband, but as it turns out he's working, as usual. At least we'll have tomorrow together. And I'm on a ten P.M. flight out of New York on Sunday.”

“I should be at the hotel by seven,” he explained. “If you're bored after he goes to work, come on up and have dinner with me.”

“I'll call if I decide to do that. In the meantime, have a good weekend.”

“I'm going to play tennis with the kids tomorrow, and spend the rest of the day lying around the pool. I can hardly wait,” he admitted, and she laughed at the contrast.

“I'm planning to do my laundry.”

“Somehow I can't envision you doing that, Meredith,” he laughed. She seemed too beautiful and too glamorous to be spending time in a laundromat, or over a hot washing machine anywhere. He couldn't imagine her doing housework.

“Someone has to do it, and Steve draws the line at cooking. I'm not sure I blame him.”

“I'll have to meet this guy one of these days. He sounds too virtuous to be true, saving lives, and doing the cooking. The perfect husband.”

“Pretty damn close,” she smiled at him.

He left her in the lounge with her briefcase, and half an hour later she boarded the plane. And shortly after takeoff, she took out her laptop. But she only worked for an hour, and then she finally put it away, and lay back against the seat and closed her eyes. She was thinking of Cal. She couldn't imagine the kind of woman he was drawn to. She wondered if they were just pretty faces, or great minds, bimbos, or soul mates. With his aversion to marriage and long-term relationships, it was hard to envision who he went out with. But she also realized, as she thought of it, that it was none of her business.

It had been a long week, and she was tired. And she could hardly wait to see Steven. As she thought of him, she drifted off to sleep, and the flight attendant woke her when they landed. She was one of the first to disembark, pick up her bags, and hail a taxi. And at ten minutes to seven on Saturday morning, she was letting herself into their apartment.

She set her bags down in the front hall, took off her shoes, and walked on tiptoe into their bedroom, so as not to wake him. He was sound asleep in their bed, naked as usual, and she peeled off her clothes, and slipped under the covers beside him. He stirred slightly and pulled her close to him, as though she had been there all night, next to him, and then he opened an eye and realized what had happened.

“You're back,” he whispered, and she smiled as she nodded and then kissed him. “I missed you,” he said, pulling her even closer, and she could feel the warmth of his flesh next to hers, as he kissed her.

“I missed you, too,” she said, and meant it. He ran a hand slowly along the gentle curves of her body, and she realized with longing how long it had been since she'd last seen him. It had been more than a week, nearly eight days, much too long, and they were both starving for each other.

There were no words between them after that, only the passion that had burned between them like an eternal flame since the day they met. It was something they both cherished, and wanted, and desperately needed. And however little time they spent together, it made every moment more precious between them. It was a long time before they spoke again, and when they did, her blond hair lay tousled and silky on his pillow, and he looked down at her with a familiar smile, and she put her arms around him again, and kissed him.

Chapter 6

THEY SPENT AN easy, quiet weekend. They stayed in bed until noon on Saturday, and slept off and on, and when they got up, it was raining, and they decided to go to the movies.

They saw a film they'd both wanted to see for a long time, and then they walked home slowly in the rain, and stopped on the way for an ice cream. They talked about going out for a hamburger, but in the end, they opted to stay home, watch a video, and have Chinese food delivered. The hospital left them alone for once. He wasn't on call, and there were no fresh disasters that required calling him when he was off duty. And for the first time in months, she didn't even touch her briefcase.

By eleven o'clock that night, they were back in bed, curled up in each other's arms, and it made him hate the fact that he had to go back to work the next day, and she was leaving. She was coming back to New York on Monday night, with Cal, and they would be in town for two days, and leave Wednesday night for Europe. But he was going to be at the hospital until that morning, and she doubted if she'd even see him. She was going to be spending Thursday in Edinburgh, Friday in London, and she and Cal would be there over the weekend. Monday in Geneva after that. Tuesday in Paris, and then back to New York on Wednesday. So all in all, it meant she wouldn't see Steve for eleven days. They were used to it. But it suddenly seemed like an eternity to them.

“I'm not going anywhere after that for a while, I promise,” she said, as she lay next to him, cuddled up against his back, with her arms around him.

“I'm going to hold you to that. I don't care how much money you make, you work too damn hard, and we're missing too much like this. Maybe it's time for you to slow down a little.” But Meredith knew that her partners didn't think so. Steve wanted to talk to her about having a baby again, but there was no point until this deal was done and they had some time together to discuss it. He figured it was time now, before either of them got much older. He had always wanted to have three or four kids, but he would have been happy with one now. And he figured Meredith would at least concede that much. And they could afford a nurse or an au pair if she wanted to go back to work after she had the baby. He was thinking about it as he lay next to her, but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to get into a serious discussion with her, or worse yet, an argument, he just wanted to enjoy her. He thought she was scared of having kids, and once she took the leap, and actually decided to give in, he was sure she'd love it.

They slept soundly in each other's arms that night, and he hated to pull away from her when his alarm went off at six o'clock the next morning. He had to be at the hospital by seven. She was still dozing when he left, and he shook her a little bit so he could say goodbye to her, and she opened her eyes with a look of surprise. She couldn't figure out where the night went. It all went by so quickly.

“I'll see you when you get back, Merrie…. I love you.”

“I love you too…. I'll call you tonight from Boston.”

He nodded, kissed her again, and a minute later he was gone, in his scrubs and his clogs, off to save the lives that others would attempt to destroy, tilting at windmills.

Meredith slept until eight o'clock, and then got up, made coffee, read the paper, and went to pack her suitcase. She packed for Europe as well, knowing she probably wouldn't have time when she came back to New York with Cal for his road show. They were going to be incredibly busy with all of the New York presentations. This was the most important city for them, and the last one before they headed for Europe. She wanted to have their book completely sold before they left for Europe, and she thought there was a good chance that would happen.

She was finished and packed shortly after noon, and after that she wasn't sure what to do. There wasn't anything she wanted to do alone. And she didn't really feel like going to a museum. In the end, she decided she might as well get to Boston. She could always have dinner with Cal once she got there. It was better than sitting alone in her empty apartment.

She took a cab to LaGuardia at three, caught the four o'clock shuttle, and at six o'clock she walked into the lobby of the Ritz Carlton. She was there even before Cal was. She left a note for him at the desk telling him she'd arrived, and the phone rang in her room promptly at seven.

“You beat me to it! How long have you been here?”

“For about an hour.” She smiled when she heard his voice. He sounded so pleased to hear her. “How was your flight?’’

“Boring. How was your weekend?”

“Relaxing. We just took it easy, and went to the movies.”

“Did you do your laundry?”

“No, Steve did.” She laughed. “He spoils me.”

“I think you're making it all up. No guy in the world is this good … cooking … laundry … saving lives … the rest of us look like total slobs compared to him, Meredith. I think I'm beginning to hate him.”

“I'm pretty lucky,” she smiled. ‘‘ How was your weekend with the kids?”

“Fun. We played tennis on Saturday, and after that, Andy and I played golf.”

“I have the perfect husband, but you are the perfect father.” Although she knew Steve would probably have been perfect at that, too, if she'd ever wanted to let him try it, which she still didn't.

“And you are the perfect woman,” he said in a tone that made her blush, but she knew he was just kidding. Even on their travels, he had never attempted to be more than a friend to her, and she respected him for it.

“No. Just the perfect investment banker, I hope.”

“Super Woman. How about having dinner with me?”

“That sounds good.” It was actually why she had come up early. And they agreed to meet half an hour later in the lobby and find a place where they could eat pasta or pizza. Neither of them wanted to get dressed, or have an elaborate dinner.

“Do you mind if I wear jeans?” he asked, and she sounded relieved when she answered.

“I'd love that.” She had traveled in a little cotton dress and sandals, and she figured that was good enough if they were just going out for pizza.

But when she met him in the lobby, he still looked like an ad in GQ. He was wearing jeans, and a clean white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, his well-polished loafers, and he was carrying a blazer over his shoulder.

“That's cheating,” she scolded him, as he looked her over admiringly. She looked fresh and young and pretty.

“What is?”

“You look much too good to just go out for pizza. Do you ever just wear a T-shirt or look a mess?” She couldn't imagine it, but he couldn't imagine her that way either.

“When was the last time you looked a mess, Meredith? In first grade maybe … or before that?” She laughed at the backhanded compliment, and they walked out of the hotel, laughing and talking, like the friends they were rapidly becoming.

They found a little Italian restaurant a few blocks away, and they spent the rest of the evening deeply engrossed in conversation about the investment banking business. He was fascinated by what she did, and intrigued to discover how much she liked it. But at the same time, she seemed to have a considerable grasp of the intricacies of his business. And they batted information and opinions back and forth all night like tennis pros at Wimbledon. They were the last people to leave the restaurant, and they hated to end their conversation, but they both needed to get some sleep before their presentation the next morning.

Meredith knew that Charlie McIntosh, Callan's CFO, had flown in from San Francisco that night too, but his flight hadn't been due in until midnight. They both hoped he would warm up in Boston and New York, and for the last leg of the trip in Europe.

“I had a long talk with him on the phone last night,” Cal told her as they rode up in the elevator. “I told him he really has to put more life into his presentations. I hope he got it, and realizes that I mean it,” Cal said, sounding unconvinced. He was beginning to see just how intractable Charlie was, and how unlikely to improve his attitude in the near future. Even on the phone the night before, he had criticized Callan for taking the company public. He was like a dog with a bone, and he just wasn't letting go of it, no matter how ardently Callan urged him to drop it. Callan was beginning to fear that his attitude was going to cause a permanent rift between them. And he said as much to Meredith as he walked her down the hall to her room, and she nodded as she listened.

“These things are hard to predict sometimes. Maybe once it's done, he'll do an about-face and surprise you. Maybe he'll finally see that you've done a great thing for your company, and not a bad one. You can use your stock to acquire other companies eventually. I think that might be something that could appeal to him.”

“I think too much growth too rapidly is part of what scares him,” Cal said thoughtfully, and Meredith looked pensive. Charlie was definitely a knotty problem.

They continued to talk about it, and a few minutes later, he left her and promised to meet her for breakfast with Charlie McIntosh the next morning. Meredith had promised to do everything but seduce him to win him over.

She had two messages from Steve when she got back to the room, and when she called him back, for once the nurse who answered the phone was able to find him. He said it had been a quiet night, it was still raining in New York, and everyone seemed to be staying home and out of trouble.

“Maybe you can get some sleep for a change,” she said with a smile, still thinking of the night they had spent together the night before, and their lovemaking when she got back on Saturday morning. It already felt like an eternity since she had seen him. Their days and nights were so full that it seemed to create too much time and space between them.

“You try and get some sleep too. These people keep you out till all hours, and then expect you to be Dinah Shore and sing your heart out for them the next morning.”

“That's what I get paid for. I'll be home tomorrow night, sweetheart.” At least she could sleep in her own bed for once, but unfortunately Steve wouldn't be there. He'd be sleeping on a rollaway bed in his office until they called him.

“I'll call you,” he promised, thinking that in the old days, she had gone to see him at the hospital sometimes, but they both knew there was no point now. Whenever she tried to do it nowadays, he was always too busy to see her, and it ended up just being frustrating and annoying. It was easier just talking to her when he had a break, and he could find her.

She stayed up reading late that night, brushing up on their presentation again. There were a few things she wanted to change in her brief introduction of Cal, and she had some suggestions about Charlie Macintosh's presentation.

But when she shared her thoughts with Charlie at breakfast with him and Cal the next day, he got enraged the moment she made the suggestions to him. What she was offering wasn't criticism, but simple ways to improve the way he presented Dow Tech to their potential investors.

“I'm not sure you understand what I'm trying to say,” she explained patiently, trying to turn it around another way, so he wouldn't resist as much and would get it. But he was incredibly defensive, and openly hostile to her.

“I understand perfectly. You think you're so goddamn smart, Miss Hot Shot Investment Banker from Wall Street. Well let me tell you, I don't agree with a damn thing you've said in the last ten minutes, or in the last ten weeks for that matter. This whole thing is a huge mistake, and you people have Cal's head so turned around, he's dazzled by the dollar signs, and he doesn't know his ass from his elbow.” In spite of herself, Meredith looked shocked not only by what he said, but by the disrespectful way he had said it. He had managed to insult both of them in one breath, and she could see that Callan hadn't liked it either.

“Maybe if you stop fighting the fact that the company is going public, Mr. McIntosh, you could figure out the best way to help us do it. Because it's going to go public, whether you like it or not. That's what Callan wants, and what he's going to get from us. Now, you can be part of it, or you can sit there like a rock and refuse to cooperate, but if you do, I assure you that the river is still going to go around you. You're not going to stop it at this point.”

He looked startled by what she said, and the force with which she said it to him. And Callan looked like a storm cloud as he paid the check and finished his coffee. All he said as they left the restaurant was that he wanted to meet with McIntosh after the presentation, and she could imagine what that meant. He was going to give him a dressing down second to none, and maybe even threaten his job if he had to. But this was no time for Charlie to be threatening mutiny, or insulting their investment bankers.

The three of them walked out of the dining room in silence. And when Meredith introduced him a little while later at the presentation, she thought that the CFO was slightly mollified and a little better behaved, but she could tell that Callan still didn't think so. He was raging about him after the potential investors left, and he and Meredith were alone for a few minutes before the next one.

“Who the hell does he think he is, talking to you like that?” He was more upset about what the CFO had said to Meredith than about the insults he had flung at Callan.

“He's just a crusty old man resisting change, Cal. And there isn't a hell of a lot you can do about it. You can try to win him over, and I know you have. But if he remains unconvinced, you'll have to decide what you want to do after the road show. But this isn't the time to rock the boat. We have to make a great showing in New York, and we still have to get through a week in Europe.”

“I know that,” Callan said, still looking angry. He felt as though his hands were tied, and Charlie McIntosh knew that.

They got through their second presentation over lunch, and the three of them flew to New York together that afternoon, and Charlie McIntosh said very little to either of them. Meredith couldn't help wondering if he was sorry about what he'd said, and was just too embarrassed to admit it. But he never apologized to her, and Callan was barely speaking to him by the time they got to New York at six o'clock. Callan was so angry at him by then, that she almost felt sorry for the CFO and the situation he'd created. He had gotten himself way out on a limb, and Meredith had the feeling that Callan was about to saw the branch off.

She had hired a limousine to pick them up, and she rode with them to their hotel. They were staying at the Regency, and after that, she had the car drop her off at her apartment. She knew Steve wouldn't be home that night, but it felt good to be home anyway, and have some time to herself before they left for Europe.

On Tuesday their presentations went extremely well. They were already oversubscribed at the end of the first day, and investors were clamoring for more stock than she was going to be able to give them. It was exactly the situation they had wanted. But even then, Charlie Macintosh didn't have the grace to back down, and he stormed off after the last presentation to go back to the hotel, and if only to calm him down, Meredith suggested that she and Cal have dinner.

She took Callan to “21,” and they talked for a long time about the serious problem that the CFO presented for him.

“You don't need his support, Cal, but it would certainly be nice to have it,” she said sensibly.

“I swear, if he goes crazy on me in Europe, and alienates anyone, I'm going to knock him out cold right in the middle of his presentation.”

“That would certainly impress our investors,” she said, laughing, because she knew from dealing with Cal that he wasn't likely to do it, but he was understandably furious at the CFO who was continuing to give him an enormous headache. But the success of the IPO far outweighed the aggravation of his personnel woes, and he was still in pretty good spirits.

“How would you handle him in my place?” Cal asked as they finished dinner. It was all they had talked about all evening. He respected her advice, her cool head, and her sensible decisions, and she seemed to think about it for a minute before speaking.

“I guess I'd probably have to kill him. Poison him maybe. He eats a lot of sweets, mints mostly, I think. It would probably be pretty easy to slip a little cyanide tablet in his candy.” She had said it so seriously that for a minute Cal thought she meant it, and then he laughed at what she said. She had a way of adding a little levity at the right moment.

“All right, I guess I'll calm down about it until we get back from Europe.”

“I don't think you have any other choice. You can deal with the whole situation once you get back to California. ‘‘

“I think I'm going to have to.”

“Meanwhile, you should be celebrating. You took New York by storm. I couldn't have asked for anything better.”

“Neither could I.” Callan Dow looked extremely pleased, and in light of that, his problems with the CFO seemed to fade momentarily into the distance. They were meeting with more private investors the next day, and that night, they were leaving for Europe.

“Will you get a chance to see your husband before you leave?” Cal asked, looking concerned. He was beginning to realize how much of her time he was taking up, and how dependent he was becoming on her. And he felt a little guilty.

“No. I'll be in a meeting downtown with you by the time he gets off duty. I might see him when I go home to pick up my bag on the way to the airport, unless he gets called back to the hospital before that.”

“Hell of a life you lead, my friend. I don't know how you manage to stay married.”

“We love each other,” she said simply, and then decided to tweak him a little bit, “in spite of the fact that I don't want his children.”

“You're beginning to make me think I should review my theories on that one. I'm beginning to think you do have the perfect marriage. Maybe because you don't have children. What do I know?”

“What do any of us know about relationships? Sometimes I think it's all blind luck, or luck of the draw or something. Who could have guessed fourteen years ago that Steven and I would be this crazy about each other, or lead a life where we practically never see each other? When we got married, he thought he wanted a rural family practice in Vermont, and I was thinking about going to law school. And the next thing I knew, he fell in love with the trauma unit and said he had to live in New York, and I fell in love with Wall Street. Things never work out exactly the way you expect them to. Maybe it's better like that, sometimes at least.” Callan's life hadn't worked out the way he expected either. She wondered sometimes if anyone's did. “I'd probably have been bored to death in Vermont, and we might have broken up years ago. I don't know why, but this works for us.”

“You're damn lucky, Merrie.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said softly. “One of these days you'll have to meet him.”

“Not professionally, I hope. Maybe we could have dinner when we get back from Europe.”

“He'd love that. He's familiar with what you do. Actually, he was the first one to tell me what your products do, and how good they are.”

“Obviously, a great guy,” he said with a smile as he paid the check, and they left the restaurant, and then walked slowly back to his hotel. After she dropped him off, she took a cab back to her apartment.

And the next morning, they were back downtown, meeting with investors, and making their pitch to them. After that, they had lunch with some of her partners, and yet another group of investors, and were finally finished for the day. When the partners congratulated him on the success of his venture, he tried to give Meredith as much credit for the IPO as he could, but they were more interested in talking to him, than in giving Meredith accolades. As far as they were concerned, she had only done what was expected of her, and there was no reason to celebrate her for it. It annoyed Cal to see the way they handled it, and he mentioned it to her in the car on the way back to the hotel to pick up his bags, en route to the airport.

“They sure don't throw you a lot of roses,” he said, looking disgruntled for her.

“They would have done the same things I did. They know that. And as far as they're concerned, Paul Black brought you in as a client. I didn't.”

“That's stretching it a bit, isn't it? He made the initial contact, but you've done everything since then.”

“That's just the nature of the business. There are no heroes among investment bankers.”

“And not much gratitude either.”

“I don't expect that. I'll make plenty of money on this deal. We all will.”

“It's not just about money, Merrie, and you know that. You can't tell me that's the only reason why you do this. You do it because you believe in the companies you take public for them, and you love what you're doing.” He had more respect for her than that, and it bothered him that they didn't.

“That's all true. But there isn't a lot of romance in this business. They figure I'll make plenty on it, and so will they. They don't feel they need to throw me a lot of kisses.”

“I think they're harder on you, and expect more, because you're a woman. It's almost as if you have to prove something to them, that you're as good or as smart or as capable as a man, and there's something wrong with that. You're a hell of a lot smarter than most of them, Paul Black certainly. He's nothing but an old windbag with good social connections. All he is is a rainmaker.” She laughed at his description.

“Thank you for noticing, on both counts. But there are plenty of those in this business.”

“And not enough like you. I've had a great time working with you.” And more than that, he had really come to like her, and admire what she stood for. She was honorable and decent and loyal and as far as he was concerned, brilliant. And a hell of a nice person. He was also impressed that she spoke so highly of her husband.

“I've had a great time working with you too. And that's a good thing, Cal, because you're stuck with me for another week.” She laughed, and a few minutes later, they picked up Cal's bags and Charlie McIntosh at the hotel, and then went on to her apartment. Her bags were standing in the hall, and she ran upstairs alone to get them, and was back in less than five minutes. Steve had left her a note. He had gone back to the hospital, for a meeting, and was sorry that he'd missed her. She jotted down a few words at the bottom of the note, mostly just to tell him that she was sorry that she had missed him too, and that she loved him.

“Did you see Steve?” Cal asked with a look of concern as she came downstairs. He was beginning to worry about her, almost like a little sister.

“No, he had to go back to the hospital for a meeting. It's okay. I didn't really expect to see him.” She seemed disappointed but not surprised by it. It was the nature of the life they led, and she was used to it, far more than Cal was.

“That's too bad. I'll bet he was disappointed.”

“I'll see him in a week,” she smiled. “I might even take some time off when we get back. We might go to Vermont for a few days, if he can get away. If not, maybe we'll take a long weekend somewhere.”

“It's too bad he couldn't meet us in London for the weekend.”

“I tried to get him to come to Paris,” she smiled, “but he's covering for the head of the trauma unit next week, who has to go to Dallas.”

“You two lead a disgusting life. I don't know how you stand it. Well, maybe we can go to the theater this weekend in London. Or Annabel's. Do you like to dance?” he asked, and Charlie McIntosh glanced out the window, looking disgusted. Mixing business with pleasure, for Cal at least, clearly did not meet with Charlie's approval, and most of all not with Merrie.

“I love to dance,” she said, smiling, as much touched by the invitation, as she was amused by Charlie's obvious disapproval. It entertained her to shock him. “And I love the theater.”

“Maybe we can do both then.” He felt he owed her some fun for all her trouble. And they were both going to be alone in London, except for Charlie.

The three of them went over some papers together when they got to the airport, and by the time they boarded the plane to Edinburgh, they were all tired. The plane was making a stop on the way, in London. But as soon as they had eaten, Charlie and Cal turned off their lights and settled down under their blankets. Cal and Meredith were seated side by side, and Charlie was sitting right behind them. But as Cal put his seat back as far as he could, Meredith reached down for her briefcase.

“Merrie,” he asked softly in the darkened plane, “what are you doing?”

“I thought I'd do some reading.”

“Stop that!” he ordered her gently. “You need to get some sleep too. I order you to turn your light off.”

“You ‘order’ me?” She looked amused. “That's a novelty.”

“Maybe it's time someone said that to you more often. Come on, give it up for tonight. Turn your light off.” She hesitated for a moment, and then decided that maybe he was right, and her work could wait till morning. And quietly, she reached up and turned her light off. “Good girl. It'll still be there in the morning.” His tone was kind and fatherly, and she could suddenly imagine how he was with his children. She knew instinctively that he was a good father.

“That's what I'm always afraid of,” she said gently, “that it'll all still be there in the morning. I keep hoping the work fairy will show up in the middle of the night and do it for me.”

“You're the work fairy, Merrie. But even fairies need to rest sometimes.” It made him more determined than ever to give her some fun in London. She deserved it. She had done more for him than anyone had in a long time, maybe ever.

She moved her seat back like his, put a pillow behind her head and pulled up her blanket, and lay there, quietly beside him.

“Can you sleep on planes?” he asked, whispering. They were like two kids at a slumber party.

“Sometimes. Depends on how much work I have in my briefcase,” she said, smiling at him.

“Pretend you left it in New York. Pretend you're going on vacation.” She smiled at the game, and whispered back at him.

“Where would I go on vacation?”

“How about the South of France? … Saint-Tropez … how does that sound?” He was still whispering and she was smiling.

“That sounds very good. I like it.”

“Then close your eyes and think of Saint-Tropez,” he whispered gently.

“Is that an order too?” she whispered back again.

“Yes … now, be quiet, and just think about it.” And much to her surprise, she did. She lay there with her eyes closed, envisioning the South of France, the little port, the narrow winding streets, the Mediterranean, and the flower market. And the next time he looked at her, she was sound asleep, and he gently pulled up her blanket and tucked it around her.

Chapter 7

THE PLANE STOPPED in London, and then flew on to Edinburgh, and Meredith was surprised that she slept for most of the flight. It was morning in Scotland when they arrived, and they went directly to the location where they were to make their presentation to the officers of several of the Scottish trusts. It was part of the standard ritual of the due diligence tour, and one of the routines Meredith knew well.

As it had for nearly two weeks now, the tour was continuing to go very well, and Callan was ecstatic when they got a fax from her office in New York, telling them that the order book was oversubscribed ten to one now, which meant that they had ten times more demand for stock than they needed.

By evening they were ready to move on, and they flew back to London that night. And by the time they got to Claridge's, even the indefatigable Callan looked exhausted. It had been a long day, after flying all night before they arrived. And the next morning, they had to be fresh to make their presentation again in London. Callan was pleased with everything, the tour was going extremely well, better than he had ever dreamed, and he had Meredith to thank for it.

“What are you up to tonight, Meredith?” he asked as they checked in, and a liveried desk clerk showed them to their rooms. Charlie McIntosh was on another floor, but their rooms were side by side.

“What am I up to?” she asked. “Sleep, I hope. I don't know about you, but I'm beat. I thought I'd go to bed so I don't screw things up for you tomorrow.”

“There's no risk of that. Do you want to go out for something to eat?” Even as tired as she knew he had to be, he wanted to go out. Callan Dow liked to work hard all day, and then go out to play at night.

“Not tonight, thanks. I'm going to order room service, and then hit the sack.”

“Party pooper. What about dinner at Harry's Bar, and then Annabel's tomorrow night?”

“Where do you get your energy, Cal? Don't you ever get tired?”

“Look who's talking. You never stop,” he said admiringly.

“I think I just have,” she said, looking tired. The jet lag and the long day and long flight had finally caught up with her, and she could hardly keep her eyes open as the porter set down her briefcase and her bag, and then let Cal into his room. Hers was handsomely done in Art Deco style. His was all done in pale blue taffeta with pastel chintz covered in flowers. And they both looked like they'd been recently redone. But Meredith would have been happy to sleep in a haystack that night, and she wanted to be fresh for the next day. They were doing their first presentation at eight A.M. But she didn't feel as pressured here as she had in New York. The European market was of slightly less interest to them. Traditionally, they tried to keep the size of the European investments down. It was important to have them participate for the long haul, but they preferred to keep the bulk of hot IPOs for U.S.-based investors, who would spin the stock more often, generating more commissions.

Cal wandered back into her room after they had brought him his bags. He tried to convince her to go out again, but she said she was in for the night. And a little while later, she heard his door open and close, and knew he had gone out. She was in bed and sound asleep by nine o'clock. And she was bright and cheery the next day when they met for breakfast.

“What did you do last night?” she asked him over scones and coffee in the dining room. His CFO hadn't joined them yet.

“I caught up with some old friends. I know a lot of people here, some of them through my ex-wife.”

“I was dead to the world by nine.” She smiled at him.

“We'll do better than that tonight,” he smiled, as Charlie McIntosh arrived at their table. He was in a fairly decent mood for once, and the three of them chatted amiably as Charlie ordered sausages and eggs. And by eight o'clock they were making their now familiar presentation. It was a huge hit, just as all the others had been.

They met with private investors at noon, and at one o'clock made their presentation again over lunch. And by four o'clock, all three of them were back at the hotel. Charlie had plans to spend the weekend in France with friends, and they were to meet up again in Geneva on Sunday night. In an uncharacteristically generous gesture, Charlie wished them a nice weekend before he left, and Meredith allowed herself to hope that it meant he was mellowing a little.

“Ready for a night on the town?” Cal asked as he walked her back to her room at five. They had reservations at Harry's Bar at eight o'clock, and were still planning to go to Annabel's to dance after dinner.

“Are you sure you don't mind wasting time with me?” Meredith asked comfortably. “You can probably have a lot more fun with a real date,” she said honestly, they were like brother and sister by now, and they both seemed to enjoy it.

“I'd rather have dinner with a good friend anytime,” he smiled, as they stood in the hall and chatted a little bit about their afternoon. The presentations had gone even better than expected.

“I thought Charlie did better here too,” Meredith said charitably. Even at his warmest, Charlie McIntosh was no ball of fire. But at least he didn't seem as truculent as he had in Los Angeles and New York. Cal said he had noticed it too. “It's a shame it took him so long to warm up.” Callan didn't comment on it, and after a few more minutes, they went back to their respective rooms. He said he'd come by to pick her up at a quarter to eight, which gave her plenty of time to unwind, relax, and take a bath. And as soon as she slipped into it, the phone rang in her room.

She was wrapped in a towel and had wet hair when she answered it, and she smiled the moment she heard the voice on the other end. It was Steve.

“How's it going, sweetheart?” He sounded in good spirits, it was early Friday afternoon for him.

“Everything is great,” she answered with a broad smile, pulling the towel closer around her in the air-conditioned room. “We're almost through, and we're oversubscribed ten to one. It's a sure green shoe on this one.” He knew that meant they'd be adding five to ten percent more shares. After a dozen years of her Wall Street career, the jargon was familiar to him. “Callan is really pleased.”

“Is his CFO still being a pain in the ass?” he asked with interest.

“He's been a little better here. He actually smiled today, he left for the weekend with some friends in France. It's kind of nice to get him off our necks.” Most of the time he was like having a crabby grandfather around. But Steve didn't sound pleased to hear it.

“Does that mean you and Dow are alone?”

“More or less. Along with about eight million people in London, I think it's pretty safe.” She was amused by his concern.

“You know what I mean. He's not coming on to you, is he, Merrie?”

“Of course not. He's smarter than that. And by now, we're good friends. After these due diligence tours, you either end up best friends for life, or you never want to lay eyes on each other again. He's been a good sport, and I think he'll stay a good friend. I hope one of these days you'll meet him.”

“All right. … I don't know why, but I don't trust him. I'd much rather be spending the weekend in London with you myself.”

“Then come,” she teased. “You can still meet me in Paris next week.”

“Very funny. You know I'm stuck here. Just get your ass back here as fast as you can. What are you doing this weekend?”

“Just hanging around. I thought I'd do some shopping tomorrow, and Cal and I are going to have dinner tonight at Harry's Bar.” Given what he had just said, she didn't tell him they were going dancing at Annabel's afterward. She knew there was nothing to it, but there was no point upsetting Steve. It was all harmless, and Cal was a perfect gentleman, just as she had said he would be.