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very talented.”
    Amanda does her best to look interested. She hopes he isn’t a purger, one of those men so relieved to have been found out that they spend the entire evening regurgitating all their guilty little secrets.
    “She’s really a very nice woman.”
    “I’m sure she’s lovely.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with my marriage. Just that, you know …”
    “You’ve grown apart,” Amanda volunteers. She’s seen this script before. She knows everybody’s lines.
    “It’s nobody’s fault. It’s just, well, you know.”
    Amanda slides her hands away from his and adjusts the plunging neckline of her black sweater, hoping to distract him.
    “The kids take up a lot of her time and energy,” Carter continues, seemingly oblivious to Amanda’s impressive cleavage. “She’s not very interested in sex anymore. Says she’s too tired. You know.”
    Amanda nods, although she can’t imagine ever being too tired to have sex. She finishes what’s left of the wine in her glass in a single gulp.
    “So,” he says, sensing perhaps it’s time to move on. “Tell me more about you. How did such a beautiful woman end up in such an ugly profession?”
    Amanda shrugs. “I thought it would be fun.”
    “Fun?”
    “Interesting,” she amends, although
fun
is the more accurate description.
    “And is it?”
    “Sometimes.”
    “Depends on the criminal, I guess,” Carter offers.
    “No,” Amanda counters. “Generally speaking, criminals themselves are a pretty dull lot. They’re amazingly similar. Most of them aren’t very bright or imaginative. It’s only their crimes that make them interesting. And the fact that none of them ever thinks he’s going to get caught.”
    “He?”
    “Usually. Especially in crimes of violence.”
    “Women aren’t violent?”
    “I didn’t say that,” she said, thinking of Caroline Fletcher.
    “Sandy once threw an omelet at my head.”
    Amanda blanches at the casual reference to Carter’s wife. For a woman who didn’t even exist a few moments ago, she is suddenly very much a force to be reckoned with. “An omelet?”
    “She was making breakfast and I mentioned that I thought she’d put on a few pounds recently. Next thing I knew this omelet came flying across the room, caught me smack in the middle of the forehead.”
    Assault with a deadly egg, Amanda thinks. Aloud she says, “Probably wasn’t the best thing to tell her first thing in the morning.”
    Carter chuckles at the memory. “Is there ever a good time?”
    “I doubt it.”
    “You ever been married?”
    “No,” Amanda lies, deciding it’s easier this way. Two ex-husbands would be too much of a distraction for Carter Reese, who is having enough trouble trying to figure out what to do with his wife. Besides, she has no interest in rehashing the boring details of why each marriage fell apart. Simply put, the first time she was too young; the second time he was too old. Well, maybe not quite so simple as that, but what difference does it make? She doubts Carter Reese will be around long enough for it to matter. Surprise me, she finds herself thinking, smiling at the man across the table, silently urging him to deviate from the script. I will if you will, her eyes try to tell him. He pats her hand and looks anxiously toward the door.
    The waiter suddenly materializes at the side of their table, startling Amanda, who didn’t see him approach. “How was everything?” he asks, clearing away the dishes.
    “Delicious.”
    “Thank you.” He says this as if he has cooked the meal himself. “Dessert for anyone? We make a mean key lime tart.”
    “Sounds good.”
    “Decaf cappuccino,” Carter tells the waiter. “And an extra fork.”
    Amanda stiffens. She’s always hated sharing her food, dislikes another person’s hand reaching into her plate.
    “So, what brought you to Florida?” Carter asks.
    Amanda suddenly becomes aware of how quiet it has become, as if everybody in the room has stopped talkingand