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away from
her. Was it that funny when Rafe Chancellor tried to get a date? She
put the phone back to her ear and waited for the laughter to stop.
    "Let me get this straight," A.J. finally sobered enough to
say. "Rafe Chancellor has asked you for a date and given my name as a
reference?"
    "I know," she sympathized, "it sounds like you're a second
in a duel, doesn't it? But you see, we've never met. Until a couple of
days ago I didn't even know what a Rafe Chancellor was—and
still don't. That's why I thought I'd call you, since he listed your
name and number as being someone who could tell me something about him."
    "Did he give you other people to call too?"
    "Yes, he did," Lacey answered, picking up the letter with
the names and numbers and reading out the others to him.
    "Yeah, yeah. I know. Served with them both in Nam."
    "Oh, he warned me not to mention the Middle East with the
second number. That, he said, would be a four-hour introduction to the
problem."
    He laughed again. "Sounds like Rafe. Damned if it doesn't."
    Now we're on the right track
, Lacey
thought. "Well, do you know him, then, rather well?"
    "As well as any man can know another, I guess," A.J.
answered. "We flew Cobras together in Nam and still see each other. I
guess he's one of my best friends."
    Now we're getting somewhere
, Lacey
thought,
even if it is in a biased sort of way
.
"What kind of a person is he?" she asked, not certain now how specific
she wanted to get with her questions.
    "The best," A.J. answered. "Earned every award for valor
except the top one that a man can get. He has so many awards his chest
isn't broad enough to accommodate them."
    "Oh," Lacey replied, impressed.
    "Was shot down a couple of times, and wounded twice."
    "Oh," Lacey answered again, wondering if his wounds had
anything to do with the reason why he hadn't approached her in person.
    "The best," A.J. repeated.
    "Oh," Lacey said again. She had been on the fringes of the
Vietnam war when she was growing up, while Rafe had been in the heart
of the conflicts, getting shot down and wounded. She didn't know enough
about that era to ask the proper questions to draw A.J. out on the
topic of Rafe's past. Besides, she was more interested in his present,
and it didn't look as if A.J. was going to be able to help fill her in
too thoroughly there.
    "You've been a big help," Lacey said. "I'm sorry I
disturbed you, but thanks for telling me about Rafe."
    "You should call the next number on that list," he
advised. "But you'll hear the same thing I've told you. Rafe's a good
man. What I want to know is about you."
    "What about me?"
    "Who are you that Rafe wants to go out with you?"
    "That's a good question," Lacey said, blushing suddenly as
she wondered if she was worthy of this war hero. "I have no idea why he
singled me out. I don't even know that we have anything in common."
    "I wouldn't worry about that," A.J. said. "Rafe's
interests are as varied as acts in a circus. I don't think there's
anything he hasn't done, tried or planned to try."
    "Thanks again for your insights," Lacey said again, ready
to hang up.
    "No, wait, tell me something about yourself," A.J. urged.
"What do you do?"
    "I design fashions," Lacey answered. "What do you do?"
    "I'm an airline pilot," he answered. "Tell me something
more about you so I can see what caught Rafe's attention."
    "I don't know what caught his attention," Lacey answered,
"since we've never met. The only thing I can figure out is it was
boredom on his part. Otherwise, why go to all this trouble?"
    "You don't know Rafe," A.J. said. "He's not the kind of
man to judge—or who should be judged, for that
matter—by appearances alone. There's a lot behind his facade,
if he lets you in."
    Lacey was beginning to see that. The plot was thickening
faster than pea soup, and she wasn't certain she wanted to add to the
recipe. "Well, good-bye."
    "Wait," he shouted.
    Lacey held the phone away from her ear and then put it
back in place. "Yes?"
    "Are you going