LITMIR.BIZ

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front of the house, she noticed automatically, aware suddenly that she was always noticing his car-or its absence. You’re like a busybody old lady spying on her neighbors, she told herself. Don’t you have anything more productive to do?

      It was too early for Bryant to be home. Mrs Garcia, the housekeeper, would be in the apartment keeping Paul company until his father came home. She wondered what the place looked like.

      There’d be expensive furniture, no doubt, but she could not quite imagine what it might look like, which was not surprising-she didn’t know the man.

      She had, however, a very clear picture of the man himself in her mind—the blond hair, the blue, blue eyes, that prominent chin. Just thinking of him made her pulse do funny things.

      Turning away from the window, she glanced around the room and pushed the image of those blue eyes out of her head.

      She’d furnished and decorated her apartment herself and she was happy with the result. Everything was perfect, everything in its place. Everything cozy and comfortable. It had taken her a lot of effort and energy to get it the way she wanted it, arranging her eclectic assortment of paintings, woven wall-hangings, wood carvings and baskets in such a way as to make it a unified whole.

      This was her nest and she loved the warmth and coziness of it, the color and brightness. She was going to be happy here in her new life. Washington was an exciting city with all sorts of cultural entertainmentsplays, concerts, lectures, seminars—all those things she had missed in the last few years.

      She put on a tape of cheery reggae and began preparing a salad with lettuce, avocado and goat cheese. She ate it at the small table, along with a slice of the German bread and a glass of wine. It was delicious.

      It was pathetic. She was alone, eating alone. What good was all this without someone to share it with? Suddenly she longed to be back in Africa, in her shabby little house in the dusty town, eating with friends-some starchy yam and oily fish soup-anything. She longed for friends around her, conversation, laughter. She longed for the sense of community, the sharing and support.

      Loneliness overwhelmed her and her salad blurred in front of her eyes, the colors swirling together in pretty shades of green and white. Angry with herself, she blinked to clear her eyes. She was not going to get maudlin and weep into her salad like some tragic heroine. This was stupid, stupid. She couldn’t allow herself to give in to these feelings. She would make friends here, build a new life. It would just take some time and effort.

      The phone rang.

      ‘Hi, it’s me, Maxie,’ said the voice. Maxie lived in the town house next door, a large, beautiful place which she shared with her bald husband, several exotic caged birds, and a boa constrictor. She had a mass of bright red hair, a sexy voice and a body to kill for. She wore the wildest, most flamboyant clothes Zoe had ever seen.

      ‘Hi,’ said Zoe. When she’d moved in, on an excruciatingly hot August day, Maxie had offered lemonade, the use of her telephone, and a view of her snake. They’d talked briefly on occasion afterward. Maxie and her husband Derek owned a very exclusive international art shop and made frequent buying trips overseas.

      ‘We’re having our annual end-of-summer party on Saturday,’ said Maxie. ‘I’d like you to come.’

      A party! People! Conversation! It was an omen. Zoe felt her spirits soar heavenward.

      ‘Oh, thank you! I’d love to. Can I bring something?’

      ‘I’m having it catered. It’s a big party, lots of people, and I don’t want to bother with the food. How have you been?’

      ‘I like the school and the staff, but I’m still readjusting to things American, like overloaded supermarkets with fifteen brands of everything and phones that work and semi-sane traffic.’

      Maxie laughed her husky laugh. ‘You’ll find some soul mates at the party. Lots of globe-trotters and foreign types.’ ‘Sounds interesting. What do I wear?’

      ‘Anything you like. There’ll be people in jeans and saris and dashikis and bow-tie, so whatever.’

      ‘Good. When you mentioned catering I was worried I had to get something long with sequins or feathers.’

      ‘Oh, please, spare me!’ Maxie laughed. ‘Well, I’ll see you Saturday, then, eight.’

      Zoe replaced the receiver and grinned to herself. She felt suddenly very light and not at all depressed any more. The invitation was an omen. A definite omen that exciting things were lurking around the corner. She took several dance steps back to the table to finish her salad.

      Afterward she felt too restless to read or watch television. She needed something to do. She glanced around the tiny kitchen, looking for inspiration. She should bake something time-consuming and elaborate. A cake. A luscious, decadent chocolate cake with nuts. She’d take it to school tomorrow and leave it in the teachers’ lounge. It wouldn’t last long there.

      She was two eggs short. Well, the corner store was still open. Grabbing her purse, she rushed out the door, down the stairs to the hall. Opening the front door, she found herself face to face with Bryant Sinclair. No, not face to face. He was quite a bit taller than she. Her heart lurched as she looked up at him, meeting his blue, blue eyes. Like a summer sky, came the sudden thought. Apparently he was just returning from work. He wore the suit he had worn that morning, a briefcase in one hand, keys dangling in the other.

      ‘Thank you,’ he said, giving a vague smile.

      She was aware suddenly that she was gaping at him stupidly. She rearranged her face in what she hoped was a more dignified expression. ‘I was just going out for some eggs.’ Now why did she tell him that? There was no reason to explain herself.

      Amusement gleamed in his eyes. ‘May your quest be successful,’ he said, ‘otherwise drop by and have some of mine. On second thought, why not just have some of mine right now and save yourself the trip?’

      ‘Thank you, but I need the exercise and I’m sure they have some at the corner store.’ She scooted down the steps to the brick sidewalk and heard the front door close behind her. Her heart was going crazy. What was the matter with her? The moment she saw him, her senses went wild. This was not normal, was it? After all, she didn’t even like the man.

      

      BRYANT was watching her. It was odd-she could feel his eyes on her like a touch on her skin. Zoe sipped her wine as she slowly turned and allowed her gaze to pass casually over Bryant, pretending she didn’t notice him. He was talking to an Arab in a white flowing robe and a woman in a bunny costume. There was indeed an intriguing array of clothes. She glanced around Maxie’s crowded living-room, glimpsing a man in a dashiki, two women in saris and an assortment of exotic print shirts. The rest of the guests wore a more standard variety of party garb, including Bryant, who sported dark trousers and a blue and black print silk shirt, open at the neck.

      She wore a short little party dress with off-theshoulder sleeves that she had bought in Rome when she’d visited her mother there this summer on her way back to the States. It was black and sexy, and actually she felt a bit naked in it, although the dress did not expose anything that shouldn’t be exposed in polite company. It was just that she hadn’t worn this sort of clothes for ages.

      Arriving at the party a few minutes ago, she’d been surprised to see Bryant, then realized that he was Maxie’s neighbor as much as she. A moment later he was standing in front of her, apparently having shed the Arab and the bunny. ‘You look rather lost,’ he said.

      She grimaced. ‘I don’t know anyone here. I suppose I should just dive in and introduce myself to someone who looks interesting and start a conversation.’

      He surveyed the room. ‘Who looks interesting to you?’

      ‘The sheik over there, the one you were just talking to. I can just see him on a camel trotting through the desert.’

      He took a sip from his drink. ‘You find that idea romantic?’

      ‘I

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