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body slack. She didn't bother to move or open her eyes; she was content just to lie there savoring the feeling. Slowly she realized that someone had covered her with a blanket. Martin, most likely, she told herself. She couldn't imagine Ward doing anything so thoughtful.
    Gradually the low-voiced conversation of the plane's other two passengers impinged on Althea's consciousness. Martin and Ward were sitting in the armchairs just in front of the sofa, and though they were making an effort to keep their voices down, she couldn't help but hear what they were saying.
    "Come on, Ward. Give me a break," Martin groaned. "You know how I hate those affairs Estelle and Sam give."
    Ward chuckled softly. "You'll suffer through it, I'm sure."
    "Why do I have to go? Why can't you just take Deborah?"
    "Because I promised her that we'd go out to dinner, just the two of us, as soon as I returned. She's been giving me hell lately because I haven't been spending any time with her," he said with irritation. Althea smiled and snuggled deeper under the blanket.
    Martin groaned again, and Ward added, "Look, you don't have to stay long. Just mingle a bit, put out a few feelers. I need to know whether or not Harrison is going to exercise that stock option."
    "But the party is tonight, and I don't have a date. And you know how Estelle feels about stag males. Her parties all resemble Noah's Ark; everyone comes in pairs."
    "So? Get a date."
    "This late? You've got to be kidding! You may get by with calling at the eleventh hour, but it never works for me."
    Althea could hear the seat in front of her creak as Ward shifted and stretched out his long legs. "Well, don't worry," he soothed in an amused tone. "If you strike out you can always take Miss Winters."
    Althea's eyes popped open, her body stiffening in outrage. The nerve of that man! Did he think that she was such a hopeless case she couldn't possibly have a date? That she was so ... so lonely and pathetic she'd jump at the chance to go out with Martin ... or any man?
    "Aw, come on, Ward. Have a heart! You can't actually expect me to take Miss Winters, for God's sake!"
    "Why not? She's single and available." He laughed softly. "She may not be much to look at, but the woman's got a mind like a steel trap."
    Martin moaned again and slumped down in his chair, and Ward changed the subject.
    Althea feigned sleep the rest of the way to Houston. She was so angry she was sure she would hit them both if she didn't. When they touched down in Houston, she stalked off the plane without a word, too furious to speak.
    At the office she took her anger out on her typewriter, pounding away at the keys as though she were driving nails with her fingertips. The two men had disappeared inside Ward's office, leaving the door ajar, and to her further annoyance she could hear Martin frantically dialing the phone, calling one woman after another. With every call Althea's temper rose higher and higher. By the time Martin strolled out into her office and perched on the corner of her desk, two hours later, she had built up a full head of steam.
    She glanced up from the letter she was proofreading and found him looking at her like a man who was about to meet a fate worse than death. Eyeing him coldly, she snapped, "Yes? Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Phillips?" They had been on a first-name basis for months, but Althea was too incensed to be anything but coldly polite.
    Martin cleared his throat noisily. "Well, uh . . . I was wondering. That is . . ." He paused to take a deep breath, then said all in a rush, "Would you like to go to a party with me tonight?"
    Althea looked at him narrowly, not saying anything for a moment. Then; slowly, a very feline smile curved her mouth, and behind the tinted lenses her sapphire eyes glinted dangerously. "Why, thank you, Martin," she said in a voice filled with fluttery surprise. "I'd like that very much."

Chapter 3
    Althea gave her hair one last flick with the brush and stepped