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understanding. “Small towns are nice. Everybody knows everyone else. I don’t think I’d be happy in a big city, where I wouldn’t know anybody at all.”
    â€œYet you left your small town to take a position in a foreign—very foreign—country,” he said, and it was a question as much as a statement of fact.
    She smiled absently as she looked past the driver’s head to the narrow city streets ahead, lined with palm trees and pedestrians in brightly colored clothing. “With my mother dead, and no close relatives, I seemed to be looking at a dead end of a future back home.”
    â€œYou are not married, then?”
    â€œMe? Oh, no, I’ve never been married,” she said absently. “I had a boyfriend.” She grimaced. “He thought I’d inherit a lot of property and money when my mother died, but the property was mortgaged to the hilt and there was only enough insurance for a simple funeral. He just vanished after the funeral. He’s dating a banker’s daughter now.”
    Her companion’s face hardened visibly. He was studying her intently, but she didn’t notice. “I see.”
    She shrugged. “He was nice to me, and at least I had someone for a little while, when Mama was the worst.” She sighed as her eyes followed the coastline. “Before, I never got to date much. She’d been sick for a long time, you see, and there was only me to take care of her. My brother helped as much as he could, of course, but he works for the government and he travels most of the time.”
    â€œAnd there was no one else who could have helped you? A close friend, perhaps?”
    She shook her head. “Just my friend Maggie, but she lived in Houston. Lives in Houston,” she faltered. “I lived on our little family ranch with Mama that my brother managed to save. We have a foreman who lives there now and works for shares.”
    â€œThis friend,” he persisted in a deceptively lazy tone. “Did she come abroad with you?”
    â€œYes, but she had to go home unexpectedly.” She frowned, wondering if she should be so forthcoming with a total stranger.
    â€œAnd left you all alone and at the mercy of strangers?” he taunted in a soft, teasing tone.
    She glanced at him with a suddenly impish smile. “Are you going to offer me candy and ask me to go home with you?” she asked.
    He chuckled softly. “I abhor sweets, as it happens,” he said, crossing his long legs in their elegant slacks. “And you seem a bit too astute to be picked up in such a manner.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know about that,” she murmured. “I’m partial to chocolates. I could be a real pushover to anybody with a pocketful of Godiva soft centers.”
    â€œA fact I shall have to have to keep in mind, mademoiselle…Barton, ” he said, so suavely that she missed the faint hesitation in his voice.
    She searched his dark eyes, not liking to start off their friendship with a lie. “Mademoiselle Brannon,” she corrected. “Gretchen Brannon.”
    He took the hand she offered and lifted it to his mouth. She grinned. “Mademoiselle Brannon,” he corrected. “Enchanté.” His eyes narrowed. “I understood the concierge to call you Mademoiselle Barton.”
    She grimaced. “That’s Maggie Barton, my friend and my roommate. Her foster brother was terribly injured in an accident and she flew home this morning.” She bit her lower lip. “I probably shouldn’t ramble on about it, but she wants me to do something that isn’t quite ethical and my conscience is killing me.”
    He leaned back, his eyes calm and faintly amused. “Please,” he invited with a gesture of one lean hand. “Often it helps to speak of problems to an uninterested but objective stranger.” When she hesitated, he chuckled. “We are strangers, n’est pas?