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the story, Casey even made the brilliant observation that you guys came in together yesterday. You should have seen the speculation that started."

"But...that was nothing." No one at work even knew Seth and I were dating. I hadn't wanted that widely known. "We hadn't done anything."

Doug shrugged again, rising from the computer. "Too bad. I wouldn't have thought less of you if you had, you know. It's your business anyway." I groaned. "Not when it's in print for everyone to see."

"I thought it was all fictitious," he reminded me with a sly grin, putting on his coat.

"It is! Doug, what am I going to do?"

"Don't know, Kincaid. I'm sure you'll figure something out. Maybe start with asking Mortensen why he's putting his fantasies on display for everyone to see." He tweaked my cheek, and I squirmed out of his reach. "As for me, I've got a rehearsal to get to. Big night tomorrow. Later."

My shift proceeded miserably after that. Now that I knew what the looks were for, the experience moved into a whole new realm of humiliation. I hated idle speculation, hated people thinking terrible things about me. I mean, it wasn't like I hadn't ever tied someone up before or had sex in an elevator, but come on. It wasn't the kind of thing I wanted people to consider publicly. I liked to keep my intimate affairs discreet.

I therefore stayed in the office as much as possible, only going out to help when absolutely necessary, and to check if Seth had returned yet. Finally, a couple hours before closing, I saw him back at his table. I sat down opposite him in a rage, not even caring what others would think of us being together.

"Why did you do it? Why did you write me in like that?"

Seth looked up from his laptop, his expression clearly implying whatever writing he was working on still held his attention more than I did. For all I knew, I was at the center of an orgy in some novel now. "What?"

"The story!" I threw American Mystery onto the table loudly. "You wrote me in. I'mGenevieve."

He blinked. "No you aren't."

"Oh yeah? How come both our names begin with a G? How come we look alike?"

"You don't look anything like her," he countered.

"That's not what half the store thinks. They think she's me! They think you've written up a fling we had in an elevator."

Realization flashed across his face, and to my horror, he actually smiled. "Really? That's funny."

"Funny? It's terrible! They all think I'm a bondage freak."

"Thetis," he began gently, still damnably serene, "I - "

"Don't 'Thetis' me. It won't work."

"I wrote that story, like, six months ago. Long before I met you. The publishing world doesn't move that fast."

"Well, the others don't know that." I hovered on the verge of tears.

"I'd never write in anyone so blatantly."

"Yeah? Well, they don't know that either," I said, slouching back against my chair miserably, arms crossed.

Seth sighed, his amber brown eyes compassionate as he regarded me. "Look, do you want me to say something? Tell them that it wasn't you?"

"Lord, that would just convince them even more that it was me. Besides, what are you going to do, call a press conference to clear my name?"

"I'm sorry," he told me seriously. "I never thought anything like this would happen." A hesitation. "Do...do you still want to go out tomorrow night? I mean...if you don't..."

The old adorable shyness fell over him, and I couldn't stay mad.

"No," I told him. "I still want to go, but...I think we should, you know, show up at the concert separately. Most of the staff will be there, you know."

He opened his mouth to speak but then reconsidered. I suspected he had been about to accuse me of overreacting, but apparently my radiating fury made him think better of it. Seth wasn't exactly the confrontational type. Or, considering the mood I was in, perhaps he just wasn't the stupid type.

"Okay," he finally said. "We'll meet there."

"Georgina?"

Looking up, I saw Paige standing over us, disapproval all over her face. I hadn't even noticed her approach. She wore another of her beautiful power suits, this time in an electric violet that looked stunning with her dark skin.

"Can I speak to you for a few minutes?" she asked, tone grim. "In private?"

I followed her to her office, letting her close the door behind us. Not surprisingly, a copy of American Mystery sat on her desk.

"So," she began crisply, "I've been hearing some rumors -