Windfall Page 0,24

him. "Were you talking to me?"

He snapped upright and out of her space, eyes going wide. They looked blue or gray, but it was tough to be sure-a changeable kind of color. Depended on the light. "Er... yes, actually. Sorry. I just meant-" He shook his head. "Never mind. Sorry. I meant no disrespect." He took two steps back, clasped his hands together, and tried hard to look as if he'd never opened his mouth.

Cherise had turned around at the sound of his voice. She grabbed my wrist and squeezed, dragged me close, and hissed, "Jesus, what's your sister doing?"

"Confronting," I said. "She's in a mood."

"Is she nuts? Look at him! Cute British guy! Hello!"

"She's on the rebound."

"Well, get her ass off the court and let me play!" All of this delivered in a fast, rapid-fire hiss that wouldn't carry even as far as Sarah's ears, much less those of Cute British Guy, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable as Sarah continued to stare at him.

"Oh, you get enough court time, believe me. Go order," I said, and nudged Cherise toward the tired-looking order-taker at the register, who mumbled something about being welcome to McDonald's. Cherise gave me a theatrically harassed look and made a production of ordering a salad, interrogating the pedigree of every tomato and carrot while she was at it.

Cherise's performance was distracting enough that I missed the historic moment of d�tente, when Sarah overcame her bitter hatred of men. When I looked back, she was extending her hand to Cute British Guy. "Sarah Dubois," she said, and I saw a tremor go right through her. I could just hear her thinking, Oh, Jesus, not Dubois, you idiot, that's Chretien's name, your name is Baldwin!

Unfortunately, it was a little late to backtrack on the surname. At best, it would sound loopy. She covered with an especially glittering smile, greatly enhanced by the new Clinique lipstick we'd bought for her earlier.

Cute British Guy folded his fingers over hers in a friendly grip, and wow, those were some long fingers. About twice as long as my own. Concert pianist hands, well manicured and soft and graceful. "Eamon," he said, and gave her a slightly shy smile and an inclined head that was like a hint of a bow. "Lovely to meet you, Sarah."

She glowed like a sun at the attention. I mean, honestly. This, from a woman who was bitching half an hour before about how she'd rip the liver out of any man who tried to buy her a drink. She might have just set a new land speed record for rebounding.

Cherise grabbed my shoulder and yanked me off balance. I tottered on my high heels, caught my balance, and turned as she shoved me up to the order window.

"Get something fattening," she said. "If you're forcing me to eat here, I want to see you suffer."

Just for sheer perversity, I went with the Quarter Pounder with Cheese. And fries.

Sarah, locked deep in conversation with Eamon, ended up snacking on a side salad and bottled water at another table, and forgot all about us.

I half expected Sarah to run off into the sunset, drop me a postcard from London thanking me for the use of my now-devastated Fairy Godmother Card, and live happily ever after until her next marital emergency, but no. The nice lunch with Eamon ended on a handshake parting that looked like no handshake I ever got from a lunch date, all eyes and smiles and long, beautiful fingers wrapping all the way to her wrist.

And then she was back with us. Glowing and smiling like the Madonna after a visitation.

"I'm done here," she announced. Cherise, who was clearly not enjoying her salad, glared, but hell, at least she'd bought herself some nice hiphugger capri pants and matching shoes. Except for coffee and Mickey D's, I hadn't spent a dime on myself.

But then, my shopping enthusiasm was somewhat dampened by the dark, relaxed figure of Armando Rodriguez, who had taken up a seat at a table about twenty feet away, sipping even more coffee. Apparently, he intended to never, ever sleep again. Or leave me alone.

"Fine. Let's go home," I said, and piled trash on my tray. The place was giving me a headache, anyway. Too many people, too much noise, too many flashing, blinking, spinning lights.

By the time we were out of the mall,