Bet Me

Chapter 6

Catra’s eyes were dazzling, and Adora panicked as she leaned close again. She put her hand on her chest, and said, "No, wait," and Catra looked down and said, "Right," and picked up another piece of doughnut. She opened her mouth to say, "No," but Catra slipped the piece in and the heat of her mouth dissolved the icing as she closed her eyes, and the tang went everywhere, melting into pleasure. And when she opened her eyes, Catra was there.

She leaned forward and kissed her softly, Catra’s mouth fitting hers so perfectly that she trembled. She tasted the heat of her and licked the chocolate off her lip and felt a tongue against hers, hot and devastating, and when Catra broke the kiss, she was breathless and dizzy and aching for more. She held her eyes, looking as dazed as Adora felt, but she wasn't deceived at all, she knew what that beast was.

She just didn't care.

"More," she said, and Catra reached for the pastry, but she said, "No, you," and grabbed the shirt to pull Catra closer, and she kissed her hard this time, Catra’s hand on the back of her head, and she fell into her, as glitter exploded behind her eyelids. She felt her hand on her waist, sliding hot under her sweater, and her blood surged, and the rush in her head said, THIS one.

Then Catra jerked forward and smacked into her.

"Ouch?" Adora said, and she looked behind her still clutching with both hands. "What the hell?" Catra said.

"I said," Lonnie said, holding up her leather purse, "what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"I cut my mouth," Adora said, touching her finger to her lip.

Catra turned back to her and pulled her finger away, Catra’s face flushed and concerned, she was so close to her that she leaned forward as her heart pounded, Catra did, too, her eyes half closed again, and she thought, Oh, God, yes. Then Lonnie jerked at Adora's arm and almost pulled her off the table.

"Get down from there, Stats," Lonnie said as Adora's head reeled. "Tony," Catra said through her teeth.

"Sorry, pal," Tony said. "She's uncontrollable."

"We were just having dessert." Adora scooted back as far as she could with Catra still sitting on her skirt. I know that was dumb, she thought, trying not to look at her, but I want that again.

"Dessert?" Lonnie looked down at the table. "You're eating doughnuts?" "Oh," Adora said, guilt clearing some of her daze.

"What are you?" Catra glared at Lonnie. "The calorie police? Go away."

"No," Lonnie said. "I think she should eat all the doughnuts she wants. I just don't want you feeding them to her."

"Why?" Catra said savagely.

"Because you are Hit-and-Run Horde, and she's my best friend." Lonnie tugged on Adora's arm again. "Come on. Bonnie's waiting."

"I'm what?"

Adora tried to scoot back a little more, but Catra was still on her skirt. Which is all right, really. "Bonnie's over there on a park bench talking to Roger," Tony said to Lonnie. "She could care less."

"Couldn't care less," Lonnie said. "And she could." She fixed Adora with a stare. "We've talked about this. Get off that table."

Right, Adora thought. I don't want to .

Across from her, Catra looked even more gorgeous than usual, enraged in the sunlight, but as her daze lifted, she remembered why she wasn't supposed to be there. "Could I have my skirt back, please?" she said, faintly, and Catra rolled back enough that she could pull the fabric free. "Thank you very much. For lunch. I had a wonderful time."

"Stay," Catra said, and Adora looked into her eyes and thought, I want to.

"No," Lonnie said and pulled Adora off the table so that she stumbled onto the grass.

 "She can make up her own mind," Catra said.

"Yeah?" Lonnie took a step closer to her. "Tell me you know her. Tell me you care about her. Tell me you're going to love her until the end of time."

"Lonnie," Adora said, tugging on her arm.

"I just met her three days ago," Catra said.

"Then what are you doing kissing her like that?" Lonnie turned her back on Catra. "Come on, Adora."

"Thank you for lunch…" Adora said as Lonnie tightened her grip. She reached back for her sandals on the table and caught the ribbons, and then Lonnie dragged her away through the trees.

When they were gone, Catra turned to Tony and said, "I can't decide whether to have you killed or do it myself."

"Not me, Lonnie," Tony said. "And she did call Adora's name and poke you in the side a couple of times before she whacked you in the back of the head with her purse." His eyes went to the table. "Hey, hot dogs." He sat on the table and reached for a sandwich.

"That woman is insane," Catra said, rubbing the back of her head. The heat was subsiding now that Adora was gone, but it wasn't making her any happier. "That was assault."

"She's insane?" Tony said, as he unwrapped a brat. "How about you?"

"It wasn't that big a deal." Ten minutes more and we would have been naked. That would have been a big deal.

"Tell that to Harry," Tony said. "That was probably more than he needed to know about what little Catra does with her free time."

"Harry?" Catra said and looked over to where Harry had been sitting. He was still there, only now there was a thin blonde with him. Bink. Catra closed her eyes and the memory of Adora's heat vanished. "Tell me Bink wasn't watching us, too."

"Don't know. She wasn't there when we got here so she may just have caught the big finish. What the hell am I sitting on?" He pulled a red-flowered shoe out from under the blanket.

"Adora's," Catra said, getting a nice flashback to her toes. "Give it to Lonnie when you get the chance. Down her throat, if possible."

"Yeah, like I'll remember," Tony said and tossed it in the cooler.

Catra dug it out again before the ice could get the flower wet and tried to get her mind off Adora. "It turns out that Bonnie's a good deal, so Roger's okay." She turned Adora's sandal around in her hand. It was a ridiculous thing with a little stacked heel that probably sank into the ground when she walked across the grass and that dopey flower that would get screwed up if she wore them in the rain, but… that was a turn-on, too.

"Roger's not okay," Tony said around a mouthful of brat. "He's going to get married."

"It's not death," Catra said, trying to imagine why anybody as practical as Adora would wear a shoe like that. But then Adora clearly had an impractical streak or she wouldn't have frenched her on a picnic table. The rush she got from that blanked out sound for a moment. "What?" Catra said.

"I said, yes, that's why you're running like a rabbit from Cynthie," Tony said.

"Well, marriage is not for me, but it's probably for Roger," Catra said, dropping the shoe on the table. "He's never been big on excitement."

"True," Tony said. "And if Bonnie is a nice woman, maybe I'll live over their garage after all."

"More good news for me," Catra said, and thought of Adora again, full and hot under her hands—No. Catra didn't need any more hostility in her life. If she wanted great sex, she could always go back to Cynthie, who at least was never bitchy. She tried to call up Cynthie's memory to blot out Adora's, but she seemed gray and white next to Adora's lush, exasperating, heat-inducing, open-toed Technicolor.

"What?" Tony said.

"Are there any hot dogs left?" Catra said. "That you haven't sat on?"

Tony found one under a fold in the blanket and passed it over, and Catra unwrapped it and bit into it, determined to concentrate on a sense that wasn't permeated with Adora. Then she remembered Adora’s face when she'd tasted the brat, and imagined her face like that with her body moving under her, hot and lush, her lips wet—

Oh, hell, she thought.

"So what are you going to tell Harry?" Tony said. "About what?"

"About you doing Adora on a picnic table," Tony said. "You guys looked pretty hot."

"I'm going to tell him I'll explain it when he's older," Catra said, and thought, We were hot. And now we're done. "Much older," she said, and went back to the cooler for a beer.

"Okay, why did we have to leave?" Bonnie said when they were in Lonnie's convertible and Adora was banished to the backseat.

"Because Adora was swapping tongues with a doughnut pusher." Lonnie looked back over the seat at Adora the sinner and shook her head.

Bonnie turned so she could see over the seat, too. "You ate doughnuts?" "Yes," Adora said, still trying to fight her way back from dazed. "Big deal." Bonnie nodded as Lonnie started the car. "Was she a good kisser?"

"Yes," Adora said. "Pretty good. Very good. World class. Phenomenal. Woke me right up. Plus there were the doughnuts, which were amazing." She thought about Catra again, all that heat and urgency, and as Lonnie started down the curving drive to the street, Adora lay down on the back seat before she fell over from residual dizziness. It felt good to lie down but it was such a shame she was alone.

"Have you lost your mind?" Lonnie said, over the seat.

"Just for that minute or two," Adora said from the seat, watching the treetops move by overhead "I kind of enjoyed it." A lot.

"You know," Bonnie said to Lonnie, "she might be legit. She looked really happy with her. Roger even said so."

"Oh. well if Roger says so," Lonnie said.

"Don't make fun of Roger," Bonnie said, warning in her voice.

"Okay," Adora said, sitting up again as her world steadied. "I'm fine now. Very practical." She pick up her shoe to untangle the ribbons. "So how was Tony?"

"Mildly amusing," Lonnie said. "Stop changing subject. What are you going to do about Catra?"

"Not see her again," Adora said, looking for her second sandal. "Oh, for heaven's sake. I left a shoe behind. We have to go back."

"No " Lonnie said and kept driving.

"They're my favorite shoes," Adora said, trying to sound sincere.

"All your shoes are favorite shoes," Lonnie said, "We're not going back there." "Are you okay, honey?" Bonnie said to Adora.

"I'm great," Adora said, nodding like a maniac. "Catra told me all about Roger. You have my blessing." "Based on Catra the Beast's say-so," Lonnie said.

"I have ways of telling," Adora said. "I know how to handle her."

"Yeah, I saw you handling her," Lonnie said. "You're weak."

"Oh, come on," Adora said, guilt making her exasperated. "I heard the bet. I know what's going on. I'm not seeing her again. Especially since you yelled at her and called her names." She thought about Catra leaning close, how hard her chest had been against her hand, how hot Catra’s mouth had been on hers, how good her hand had felt on her breast. "I found out how she gets all those women, though," she said brightly. "Turns out it's not just pure charm."

"Maybe you should see her again," Bonnie said, sounding thoughtful. "I think sometimes you just have to believe."

That might be good, Adora thought.

"Bonnie", Lonnie said. "Do you want her to get mutilated by the same girl who broke your cousin's heart and made that bet with David?"

That would be bad, Adora thought. "No," Bonnie said, doubt in her voice.

"Then no more pep talks about believing in toads," Lonnie said. "Don't they turn into princess when you kiss them?" Bonnie said. "That's frogs," Lonnie said. "Entirely different species."

"Right," Adora said, trying to shove Catra out of her mind. "Toad not frog. Beast. Absolutely." Then she sighed and said, "But she really had great doughnuts," and lay back down on the seat again to recover her good sense.

David was settling down in front of the television on Sunday afternoon when the phone rang. He picked it up and heard Cynthie's voice. "Catra and Adora were in the park today," she said. "Catra kissed her.

That's joy, it's a physiological cue, that could push them into—"

"Wait," David said, and took a deep breath. It was that damn bet. Catra would do anything to win that bet.

"She fed her doughnuts," Cynthie said. "Took her on a picnic and—"

"Adora ate doughnuts?" David went cold at the thought. "Adora doesn't eat doughnuts. Adora doesn't eat carbs. She never ate carbs with me."

"And every time she fed her a piece, she kissed her." "Fucking Horde," David said, viciously. "What do we do?"

"We have to work on their attraction triggers, create joy, make them remember why they wanted us" Cynthie said. "Take her to lunch tomorrow. Make it perfect. Make her feel special and loved, give her joy, and get her back."

"I don't know," David said, remembering Adora's face when he'd dumped her. The idea was for her to come crawling back to him, not for him to go to her.

"I'll have lunch with Catra," Cynthie said as if he hadn't spoken. "I've been lying low, hoping she'd come back on her own, but there's no time for that now. I'll have her in bed before dessert, and that should finish the whole thing."

"Adora's mad at me," David said. "I think it's too soon for a lunch."

"Oh, that's very aggressive." There was a long silence and then Cynthie said, "Her family. Did you say she needs them to approve of her lovers?" "Yes," David said. "Her mother was crazy about me."

"There you go," Cynthie said. "Call her mother and tell her the truth about Catra and women."

"No," David said, remembering Nanette's lack of focus on anything not involving calories or fashion. "Her sister's fiance. Greg. I'll call him tonight."

"How will that help?"

"He'll tell Glimmer right away," David said. "He sees her every night. And she lives with her parents, so she'll tell her mother and father. Her father is very protective."

"That's good," Cynthie said.

"Catra fed her doughnuts?" David said, wincing at the thought. "One piece at a time," Cynthie said.

Bastard. She was doing it for that damn bet. After all that big talk about being cheap but not slimy, she was going to seduce Adora with doughnuts and then come back to collect her ten thousand bucks. The great Catra Horde wins again. Not if I have anything to do about it.

"David?" Cynthie said.

"Trust me," David said, grimly. "Adora just ate her last doughnut."

On Monday, Roger came in late to work. Bonnie, Catra thought, which made her think of Adora, which was ridiculous.

"What is this?" Tony said. "I'm the last one in to work. It's tradition."

"Bonnie." Roger yawned as he sat down at his desk. "We talked pretty late last night." "Talked," Tony said, sitting on the edge of the work table. "The least you could do is get laid." Roger narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, now that we're all here—" Catra said.

"I'm going to marry Bonnie," Roger told Tony. "You don't talk like that about the woman you marry." "Sorry," Tony said. "I'm never getting married so I wouldn't know."

"—we need to block out the Winston seminar—"

"You'll know when you find the right woman," Roger said. "No such animal," Tony said.

"—and get the packets done." Catra said, raising her voice.

"She has a perfect kiss," Roger said, looking out the window, probably in what he thought was Bonnie's direction. "Did you ever kiss like that, where everything was exactly right and it just blew the top of your head off?"

"No," Tony said, looking revolted.

"Yes," Catra said, Adora coming back to her in all her hot and yielding glory. They both turned to look at her, and she said, "Can we go to work now? Because we're about a minute away from breaking out the ice cream and talking about our feelings, and I don't think we can come back from that."

"I'll get on the invoices," Roger said and went to his desk.

Catra leaned back in her desk chair, opened a computer file, and thought about Adora. She'd had no intentions of kissing her and then she'd jumped her, some insane impulse shoving Catra into her lap. And she'd been no help. She should have slapped her silly and instead there she was, saying "More," egging her on—

The phone rang and Tony picked it up. "Horde, Packard, Capa," he said and then rolled his eyes at Catra. "Hey, Cynthie."

Catra shook her head.

"She's not here," Tony said. "I think she's gone for the morning." He scowled at Catra, who sighed and leaned back in her chair to look at the ceiling.

"Lunch?" Tony said. "Sorry, she's got a lunch date. At Emilio's. With her new girlfriend."

Catra sat up so fast her feet that hit the floor hard. No, she mouthed at Tony and made a slicing motion across her throat with her hand.

"So you don't have to worry about her being depressed over losing you," Tony said. "She got right back on the horse."

Catra stood up, rage in her eyes, and Tony said. "Gotta go," and hung up. "Are you insane?" Catra said.

"Hey, it got rid of her, didn't it?" Tony said. "I did you a favor." He frowned. "I think. The whole thing sort of came to me in a flash." He looked at Roger. "Was that a bad move?"

"I'm not sure," Roger said. "You might want to stay away from flashes in the future."

"I don't want to see Adora again," Catra said, and thought about seeing Adora again.

"So? Cynthie doesn't need to know that," Tony said.

"So now I have to take Adora to Emilio's because Cynthie will check," Catra said.

"I don't see why," Roger said. "If Cynthie asks, you can say you went someplace else."

"I try to tell as few lies as possible." Catra sat down again, trying to feel exasperated about the whole mess. She picked up the phone and dialed Adora's company, tracking her down through the switchboard operator, but her phone was busy and voice mail was not an option. Nobody ever talked anybody into lunch on voice mail.

She hung up the phone and saw Roger and Tony watching her. "What?" "Nothing," Roger said.

"Nothing," Tony said.

"Good," Catra said and ignored them to go back to her computer screen.

When her office phone rang, Adora thought Catra, and then kicked herself. The beast must have the power to cloud women's minds if she was thinking about her at 9 a.m. on a Monday morning in the middle of a prelim report.

"Adora Grey," she said into the phone, tapping her red pen on the frosted glass top of her desk. "Tell me about this person you're dating," her mother said.

"Oh, for crying out loud." Adora leaned back in her Aeron chair, exasperated.

"Greg says she has a horrible reputation with women," Nanette said. "Greg says she uses them and leaves them. Greg says—"

"Mother, I don't care what Greg says," Adora said over her mother's panic. "And I'm not dating her. We went to dinner and had a picnic in the park and that's it." She wrote Catra’s name in block letters on the cover sheet of her report and then drew a heavy red line through it. Gone, gone, gone.

"Greg says—" "Mother."

"—that she's a heartbreaker. He's just worried for you."

Adora started to say, Oh, please, and stopped. Greg probably was worried about her. Greg worried about everything.

Why was Greg worried about her?

"How does Greg even know this girl exists?" Adora said as she wrote "Greg" in red block letters and drew two heavy lines through it. Then she wrote "Dweeb" below that and "Snitch" below that.

"I'm worried for you," her mother was saying. "I know you're being brave about losing David, but I just hate it. I can't stand it if you're hurt."

Adora felt her throat close. "Who are you and what did you do with my mother?"

"I just don't want you hurt," Nanette said, and Adora thought she heard her voice shake. "I want you married to a good person who will appreciate you for how wonderful you are and not leave you because you're overweight."

Adora shook her head. "You had me right up to the last line." She wrote "Mother" in block letters, drew a heart around it, and then, while Nanette talked on, she drew four heavy lines across it.

"Marriage is hard, Adora," Nanette was saying. "There are a million reasons for them to cheat and leave, so you have to work at it all the time. You have to look good all the time. People… are very visual. If they see something better—"

"Mom?" Adora said. "I don't think—"

"No matter how hard you work, there's always somebody younger, somebody better," Nanette said, her voice trembling. "Even for Glimmer, for everybody. You can't start with a handicap, you can't—"

"What's going on?" Adora said. "Is Greg cheating on Glimmer?" "No," her mother said, sounding taken aback. "Of course not."

Adora tried to imagine Greg betraying Glimmer, but it was ridiculous. Greg didn't have the gumption to cheat. Plus, he loved Glimmer.

"Why would you say that?" her mother said. "That's a horrible thing to say."

"You were the one who brought up cheating," Adora said. So if not Greg, then who? Dad? Adora rejected that thought, too. Her father had three interests in life: insurance, statistics, and golf. "The only thing Dad would leave you for is the perfect four iron, so that's not it. What's going on?"

"I want you married and happy and this Cara isn't—" "Catra," Adora said.

"Bring her to dinner Saturday," Nanette said. "Wear something black so you'll look thinner."

"I'm not seeing her, Mother," Adora said. "That's going to make it doubtful that she'll want to meet my parents."

"Just be careful," her mother said. "I don't know how you find them."

"She looked down my sweater and saw that red lace bra," Adora said. "It's all your fault."

She spent a few more minutes reassuring Nanette, and then she hung up and went back to editing for another five minutes until the phone rang again. "Oh, great," she said and answered it, prepared to argue with her mother again. "Adora Grey."

"Adora, it's Glimmer," her sister said.

"Hi, honey," Adora said. "If this is about Greg ratting out my picnic date, it's okay, it's over, I'm never going to see her again." She drew another line through Greg's name. As far as she was concerned, there couldn't be too many lines through Greg's name.

"Greg says David says she's awful," Glimmer said.

Adora sat up a little straighten "David said that, did he?" The rat fink didn't even play fair on his bets. She wrote "David" in big block letters and then stabbed her pen into it.

"He told Greg not to tell me he'd told him," Glimmer said. "Right," Adora said, not bothering to follow that.

"She just doesn't sound like part of your plan," Glimmer said. Adora stopped stabbing. "My plan? What plan?"

"You always have a plan," Glimmer said. "Like me. I've planned my wedding and my marriage very carefully and Greg fits perfectly. He's perfect for me. We're going to have a perfect life."

"Right," Adora said, and drew another line through Greg's name.

"So I know you must have a plan and this wolf—"

"Beast," Adora said.

"—frog, whatever, can't fit your plan."

"She's not a frog," Adora said. "I kissed her and she did not turn into a princess. "She turned into a god. No, she didn't. "Look, I'm never going to see her again, so everybody can relax."

"Good," Glimmer said. "I'll tell Mom you're being sensible as usual and she won't worry anymore." "Oh, good," Adora said. "Sensible as usual. Nobody mentioned this to Dad, did they?"

"Mom might have," Glimmer said.

"Oh, hell, Glimmer, why didn't you stop her?" A vision of her overprotec-tive father rose up before her like a big blond bear. "You know how he is."

"I know," Glimmer said. "I'm still not sure he likes Greg."

Are you sure you like Greg? Adora wanted to say, but there wasn't any point since Glimmer would insist it was True Love to the death. "Well, good news, I got you a cake—"

"You did?" Glimmer's voice went up a notch. "Oh, Adora, thank you—"

"—but it won't be decorated so Bonnie and I are going to do that with Mom's pearls and a lot of fresh flowers." Adora began to draw a wedding cake.

"You're going to decorate my cake?" Glimmer said, her voice flat.

"People are going to love it when they taste it," Adora said, adding some doves to the top. "Taste?" Glimmer said. "What about when they look at it?"

"Are you kidding? Fresh flowers and real pearls? It'll be a sensation." Adora drew in some pearls. They were easier than doves, and she was experiencing enough difficulty with her morning.

"What does Mom say?"

"Why don't we ask her at the wedding?" Adora said, keeping her voice chirpy.

"Okay," Glimmer said, taking a deep breath into the phone. "I really am grateful. And it's good that it'll taste good, too. For the cake boxes and everything."

"Cake boxes?" Adora said.

"The little boxes of cake that the guests take home for souvenirs," Glimmer said. "To dream on." "Cake boxes," Adora said and began to draw little squares. "Two hundred. You bet."

"You didn't get cake boxes?"

"Yes," Adora said, drawing boxes faster. "I got cake boxes. Will you relax? You sound like you're strung up on wires. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Glimmer said, with too much emphasis.

"No trouble with Wet and Worse?" Adora said and then winced. "I mean Susie and Karen?" Glimmer laughed.

"I can't believe you said that."

"I'm sorry," Adora said. "It's ..."

"Adora, we know about it. Karen overheard Lonnie say it back when we were in high school. She calls Bonnie and Lonnie Sweet and Tart."

Adora laughed in spite of herself.

"Don't tell them," Glimmer said. "I'll go on pretending you don't call Susie and Karen Wet and Worse if you'll go on pretending we don't call Bonnie and Lonnie Sweet and Tart."

"Deal," Adora said. "God, we're horrible people."

"Not us," Glimmer said cheerfully. "It's our friends who make this stuff up. We're those nice Grey girls."

"I think that depends on who you ask," Adora said, thinking of Catra. She had to remember to be nicer to her. Except she wasn't going to see Catra again so it didn't matter. Also, when she was nice to her in the park, it went badly. "I've been really bitchy lately. " Her voice trailed off as her father loomed in the doorway, looking like an anxious Viking. "Hi, Daddy." "Oh, no," Glimmer said.

"I'll talk to you later," Adora said to Glimmer and hung up. "So, what brings you down here?" she said to her dad. "Air get too thin on the fortieth floor?"

"About this girl you're seeing," George Grey said, glowering at his daughter as he came into her office.

"Don't even try it," Adora said. "I know you have junior account executives for breakfast, but that doesn't work with me. I'm not seeing Catra anymore, but if I were, it would be my choice. Come on, Dad." She smiled at him, but his face stayed worried. "Two and a half million people get married every year in this country. Why not me?"

"Marriage isn't for everybody, Adora," he said. "Daddy?" Adora said, taken aback.

"This girl is not a good girl," George said.

"Now wait just a minute," Adora said. "You don't even know her. She was a perfect both times we went out—"Well, there were hands in the park . "—and since we've decided not to see each other again, it's pretty much not a problem."

"Good." Her father's face cleared. "Good for you. That's smart. Why take chances with a girl you know isn't a good risk?"

"I'm not selling her insurance," Adora said.

"I know, Adora," he said. "But it's the same principle. You're not a gambler. You're too sensible for that." He smiled at her, patted her hand, and left, and Adora sat at her desk and felt dull, frumpy, and boring.

Not a gambler. Sensible as usual. She let herself think about kissing Catra in the park, her mouth hot on hers, Catra’s hands hard on her, and she felt the heat rise all over again. That hadn't been sensible, that hadn't been a plan. And now she was never going to see her again.

She looked down at her report and realized she'd perforated it. She must have been stabbing it, the Norman Bates of statistical analysis. "Great," she said, and tried to pull the pages apart. The top sheet ripped, and her phone rang, and she picked it up and snarled, "Adora Grey," ready to perforate the caller this time.

"Good morning, Adora," Catra said, and all the air rushed out of Adora's lungs. "How did you get that god awful name?"

Breathe. Deep breaths. Very deep breaths.

"Oh," she said. "This is good. Grief about my name from a girl named Catra. "I do not care that she called. I am totally unaffected by this. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was convinced Catra could hear it over the phone.

"I was named after my rich uncle Robert," Catra said, "which turned out to be a total waste when he left everything to the whales. What's your excuse?"

"My mother wanted a goddess," Adora said faintly.

"Well, she got one," Catra said. "I take it back, it's the perfect name for you."

"And my father's mother was named Minnie," Adora said, trying to get back to offhand and unfazed. "It was a compromise. Why isn't your name Robert?"

"I got his last name," Catra said. "Which is good. I don't see myself as a Bob, as you can see why in the woman department."

"Bob Horde." Adora leaned back in her chair, pretending to be cool. "That weird guy in the shipping department."

"The insurance agent you can trust," Catra said. "The used car salesman you can't," Adora said.

"Whereas Catra Horde is the old who started the company in 1864," Catra said. "Or in this case, the girl who has your shoe."

"Shoe?"

"Red ribbons, funky heel, big dopey flower."

"My shoe!." Adora sat up, delighted. "I didn't think I'd ever see it again."

"Well, you won't unless you come to lunch with me," Catra said. "I'm holding it for ransom. There's a gun to its heel right now."

"I have lunch at my desk," Adora began, and thought, Oh, for crying out loud, could I be any more pathetic?

"Emilio is experimenting with a lunch menu. He needs you. I need you."

"I can't," Adora said while every fiber in her being said, Yes, yes, anything . Thank God her fiber couldn't talk.

"You can't let Emilio down," Catra went on. "He loves you. We'll have chicken marsala. Come on, live a little. A very little."

A very little. Even Catra knew she was a sensible, non-gambling, plan-ridden loser. "Yes," Adora said, her heart starting to pound again. "I would love to get my shoe back and have chicken marsala for lunch."

"Keep in mind, you have to eat it with me," Catra said. "You're not seeing that shoe until you eat." "I can stand that," Adora said, and felt lighter all over. Then she hung up and looked at her report. She'd been drawing hearts on it, tiny ones, dozens of them.

"Oh, my Lord," Adora said and put her head on her desk.

When Adora got to Emilio's, a dark-haired teenage boy at the door said, "You looking for Catra?" and when she nodded, said, "She's at your table," and jerked his head into the restaurant.

"I have a table?" Adora said, but then she saw Catra sitting by the window at the table they'd had Wednesday night, and she lost her breath for a minute. I keep forgetting how beautiful she is, Adora thought, and watched as she sat relaxed in her chair, her eyes fixed on the street outside, her profile perfect. She was tapping her fingers on the table, and her hands looked strong, then Adora remembered how good they'd felt on her and thought, Get out of here. Then she saw her and straightened and smiled, her eyes lighting as if she were glad to see her, and Adora smiled back and went to meet her. Charm girl, she thought, and slowed down again, but she already had her chair pulled out.

"Thanks for coming," Catra said, and she slid into the chair thinking, she's up to something, be careful. Then she noticed her looking at the floor and said, "What?" her voice cracking with nerves.

"Shoes," she said. "What are you wearing?"

"You sound like an obscene phone call," she said, trying to keep her treacherous voice steady, but she stuck her foot out so Catra could see her blue reptile slides, open-toed to show off the matching blue nail polish.

She shook her head. "You can do better. The toes are nice, though."

"These are work shoes," she said, annoyance clearing up her nerves. "Also, you have my red shoe so I couldn't wear those. Can I have my shoe back?"

"Not until after lunch," she said, sitting down across from her. "It's my only leverage." "Have you had this foot fetish long?" she said, as Catra passed her the bread basket. "Just since I met you," she said. "Suddenly, there's a whole new world out there."

"Glad to know I've made an impact," Adora said, and was appalled to realize that she really was. It was enough to make her nerves come back. Catra doesn't matter. She shoved the bread basket back to her, determined to be virtuous in consumption if not in thought, and said, "So who's the charmer at the door? He needs lessons from you."

"Emilio's nephew." Catra picked up a piece of bread and broke it. "His tableside manner could use some work."

"Doesn't Emilio have somebody else to put up front?" Adora picked up her napkin to keep her hands off the bread. "He can't be good for business."

"Brian's the socially adept one in the family," Catra said. "His brothers are back in the kitchen where they won't hurt anybody. Fortunately, they can cook. I already ordered. Salad, chicken marsala, no pasta."

"Oh, good," Adora said, "because I'm starving. Did you know that forty percent of all pasta sold is spaghetti?" Geek, she thought, and tried to suppress her statistical instinct while she smiled at Catra. "I think that shows a huge lack of imag—"

Brian slung a salad in front of her and another in front of Catra. "Your chicken's up in about fifteen," he told Catra. "You want wine with that?"

"Yes, please," Catra said to him. "I thought you were working on your finesse." "Not with you," Brian said. "I know it's chicken, but for you, red wine, right?" "Right," Catra said. "Now ask me what kind of red."

"Whatever Emilio puts in the glass," Brian said, and left.

"Just a little ray of sunshine," Adora said. "But enough about him. Give me the ten bucks."

"Ten bucks?" Catra looked beautifully blank and then shook her head. "There wasn't a bet. Stop harassing me for cash."

"You asked me out without a bet?" Adora said.

"No money will change hands," Catra said. "Except for me paying the tab." "We can go Dutch," Adora offered.

"No, we can't."

"Why not? I can afford it. We're not dating. Why—"

"I invited you, I pay," Catra said, her face beginning to set into that stubborn look that exasperated Adora. "That means if I invite you, I pay," Adora said.

"No, I pay then, too," Catra said. "So tell me who Glimmer, Wet, and Worse are."

"That's why you invited me to lunch?" Adora said, infusing her voice with as much skepticism as possible.

"No." Catra put her head in her hands. "Could we just for once meet like regular people? Smile at each other, make small talk, pretend you don't hate me?"

"I don't hate you," Adora said, shocked. "I like you. I mean, you have flaws—"

"What flaws?" Catra said. "Of course I have them, but I've been on my best behavior with you. Except for hitting you in the eye and attacking you on a picnic table. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Adora said, putting as much chipper as she could into her voice. "I'm turning over a new leaf. Taking risks. Like having lunch with a wolf."

"I'm a wolf?" Catra said.

"Oh, please," Adora said. "You picked me up on Friday with 'Hello, little girl.' Who did you think you were channeling, the princess?"

Emilio appeared with wine before Catra could say anything, and Adora beamed at him, grateful for the rescue. "Emilio, my darling. I forgot to mention cake boxes. Two hundred cake boxes."

"Already on it," Emilio said. "Nonna said you'd need them. She said to get four-inch-square boxes for three-inch-square cakes."

"I'm getting the boxes," Adora said, nodding. "Sure. Great. Fine. Your grandmother is an angel and you are my hero. And of course, a genius with food."

"And you are my favorite customer." Emilio kissed her cheek and disappeared back into the kitchen. "I love him," she told Catra.

"I noticed," Catra said. "Been seeing him behind my back, have you?" "Yes," Adora said. "We've been having conversations about cake." "Whoa," Catra said. "For you, that's talking dirty."

"Funny." Adora stabbed her salad again and bit into the crisp greens. Emilio's dressing was tangy and light, a miracle all by itself. "God, I love Emilio. This salad is fabulous. Which is not a word I usually use with 'salad.'"

"Tell me about the cake," Catra said, starting on her own salad.

"My sister Glimmer is getting married in three weeks," Adora said, glad to be on a topic that wasn't dangerous. "Her fiance said he knew this great baker and that he would order the cake as a surprise. And then the surprise turned out to be that he hadn't ordered the cake."

"And the wedding's still on?" Catra said.

"Yes. My sister says it's her fault for not reminding him." "Your sister does not sound like you," Catra said.

"My sister is my exact opposite," Adora said. "She's a darling." Catra frowned.

"Which makes you what?"

"Me?" Adora stopped eating, surprised. "I'm okay."

Catra shook her head as Emilio appeared with a steaming platter of chicken marsala. When he and Adora had assured each other of their undying devotion, he left, and Catra served chicken and mushrooms. "So how do Wet and Worse figure in this cake story?"

"They don't," Adora said. "Except that they're my sister's bridesmaids. But do not tell anybody I called them that." She ate her first bite of chicken, savoring it, and then teased an errant drop of sauce from her lower lip. "Do you think—"

"Don't do that," Catra said, her voice flat. "What?" Adora blinked at her. "Ask questions?"

"Lick your lip. What were you going to ask me?"

"Why? Bad manners?" Adora said, dangerously.

"No," Catra said. "It distracts me. You have a great mouth. I know. I was there once. What were you going to ask me?"

Oh.

Adora met her eyes, and she stared back, unblinking. Oh, she thought and tried to remember what they'd been talking about, but it was hard because all she could think about was how she'd been there once, and how good she'd felt, and how hot her eyes were on her now, and how much she—

"You guys okay?" Brian said. "What?" Catra said, jerking her head up.

"Is there something wrong with the chicken?" Brian frowned at them both. "You guys looked strange." "No," Adora said, picking up her fork again. "The chicken is wonderful."

"Okay," Brian said. "You need anything else?" "A waiter with some class?" Catra said.

"Yeah, right, like I'd waste that on you," Brian said, and wandered off.

"So anyway," Adora said, scrambling for a safer topic, "when Glimmer told me about the cake, I turned to Emilio in my hour of need, and he called his grandmother. So he's my hero."

"Wait'll you taste the cake," Catra said. "She only makes it for weddings and it's like nothing else in this world."

"When did you eat wedding cake?" Adora said.

"When Emilio got married," Catra said. "When my brother got married. When everybody I've ever known got married. Tony, Roger, and I are the last hold-outs, so there have been a lot of weddings. And now Roger's going down for the count."

"Well, at least you and Tony will have each other," Adora said brightly. "So you have a brother. Younger or older?"

"Older. Reynolds."

Adora stopped eating. "Reynolds? Reynolds Horde?" "Yes," Catra said. "Husband to Bink, father to Harry."

"Isn't there a fancy law firm called Reynolds Horde?"

"Yes," Catra said. "My father, his partner John Reynolds, and my brother." Catra didn't sound too thrilled about any of them.

"Cozy," Adora said. "So how is Harry?"

"Permanently scarred from watching us on a picnic table." Adora winced. "Really?"

"Hard to say. I haven't seen him since. Bink probably has him in therapy by now. So what's your take on Bonnie and Roger?"

"They'll be engaged before fall," Adora said, and they began to discuss Bonnie and Roger and other safe topics for the rest of the meal. When they were finished and Catra had signed the charge slip, she said, "So lunch with me is risky. Does that mean you need an apology for our last lunch?"

"No." Adora smiled and tried to look unfazed. "I've been working on the theory that if we don't talk about it, it didn't happen. Although a lot of people seem to know about it. Greg, for example. He ratted us out, and now my mother wants you to come to dinner." Catra looked taken aback for a minute, and she said, "I told her you were a complete stranger so dinner was unlikely." Then out of the blue, she blurted, "So what was that on Saturday?"

"Well." Catra took a deep breath. "That was chemistry. And it was phenomenal. I'd be more than interested in doing that again, especially naked and horizontal, but—"

Adora's pulse picked up, but she slapped herself in the forehead to forestall Catra and her own treacherous imagination.

"What?" she said.

"I'm remembering why you never ask your date to tell you the truth," she said. "Because sometimes they do."

"Date, uh. My point is," Catra said, "that Lonnie was right, I had no business kissing you like that because I don't want anything that serious. I just got out of a relationship that was a lot more intense than I'd realized and—"

Adora frowned. "How could it have been more intense than you'd realized?"

"I thought we were just having a good time," Catra said. "She thought we were getting married. It ended okay, there are no hard feelings—"

Adora looked at her in amazement. "She wanted to get married, you didn't, but there are no hard feelings."

"She said if I wasn't ready to commit, she'd have to move on," Catra said. "It was pretty cut and dried."

"And you're the girl who's supposed to be a wizard at understanding women. It was not cut and dried. She either hates you, or she thinks you're coming back."

Catra shook her head. "Cynthie's very practical. She knows it's over. And so are we because, even though it was great, this is not something either one of us wants to pursue."

"Right," Adora said, understanding completely if not happily. "It would be different if we were at all compatible. I'm not averse to commitment especially if it'd be that much fun, but the last thing I need is to fall for somebody I already know is no good for me just because she kisses like a god. Also, I'm waiting for the reincarnation of Elvis and you are not. But—"

She stopped because Catra had a strange look on her face. "What?" she said. "I was kidding about Elvis."

"I'm no good for you," she said, "but I kiss like a god?"

Adora considered it. "Pretty much. Why? Did you have a different take on it?"

Catra opened her mouth and then stopped and shrugged. "I guess not. I don't think you'd be bad for me, I just can't take the hassle. You're not a restful woman."

"This is true," Adora said. "But you ask for it. You're such a wolf."

"I'm retired," Catra said. "All I want now is some peace and quiet. I just need a break." "That's my plan," Adora said. "I'm taking a break from dating."

"Until Elvis shows up," Catra said.

"Right. As far as I can see, there's no downside to this at all." "No sex," Catra said.

"I can stand that," Adora said.

"Yeah, you're good at denying yourself things."

"Hey," Adora said, insulted. "We were doing just fine there and then you had to take a shot at me."

"Sorry," Catra said.

They got up to go, Adora kissed Emilio good-bye, and they went out into the street.

"Okay, it's broad daylight and my office is only six blocks away," Adora said. "You don't have to walk me."

"Fair enough." Catra held out her hand. "We'll probably meet again at Roger and Bonnie's wedding. In case we don't, have a nice life."

Adora shook her hand and dropped it. "Likewise. Best of luck in the future."

She turned to go and Catra said, "Wait a minute," and made her heart lurch. But when she turned around, she was holding her shoe, the red ribbons fluttering in the light breeze.

"Right," she said, taking it. "Thank you very much."

Catra held on to it for a moment, looking into her eyes, and then she shook her head and said, "You're welcome" and let go, and Adora set off down the street without looking back, full of excellent food but not nearly as happy as she should have been.

Charm girl, she thought, and put Catra out of her mind.

On Tuesday, Adora looked at the salad on her desk at lunch and thought, There has to be more to life than this. It was Catra’s fault; she'd had real food in the middle of the day and it had tainted her. Until Catra, she'd never thought about food except as something she couldn't have. Even before she'd started dieting for the bridesmaid's dress, there'd been no butter in her life. There should be butter, she thought, and then realized the folly of that.

But there could be chicken marsala.

Adora shoved her salad to one side, logged onto the net, and did a search for "chicken marsala" because doing a search for "Catra Horde" would not have been helpful to her damn plan.

"Very popular dish," she said when she got 48,300 matches. Even allowing for the weird randomness that more than 48,000 of them would demonstrate if she ever got that far, that was still a lot of recipes. There was one with artichokes, that was insane. One had lemon juice, which couldn't be right, another peppers, another onions. It was amazing how many ways people had found to garbage up a plain recipe. She printed off two that sounded right and went to log off the net, but instead, on a random impulse, Googled for "dyslexia" instead. An hour later, she logged off with a new respect for what Catra Horde had accomplished.

When she got off work, she stopped by the grocery. There was something about having a plan for dinner, a recipe in hand, that made her feel much less hostile about food. Of course, she was going to have to adapt the recipe. It called for the chicken to be breaded in flour, which was just extra calories, and carb calories no less. Skip the breading. Salt and pepper she already had, and parsley had no calories, so she picked up a jar of that. Skinless, boneless chicken breasts she was familiar with, no problem there, but butter and olive oil? "It is to laugh," she said and got spray olive oil in a can.

Mushrooms were mostly water, so she could have those, and then there was the marsala. She found it in the cooking wine section. Resolutely passing by the bread section, she checked out feeling triumphant, went home and changed into her sweats, cranked up the CD player, and sang her head off to her Elvis

30 album as she cooked.

An hour later, Elvis was starting all over again and she was staring at the mess in her only frying pan trying to figure out what had gone wrong. She'd browned the chicken in the non-stick skillet and then followed all the other directions but it looked funny and tasted like hell. She tapped her spatula on the edge of the stove for a few moments and thought, Okay, I'm not a cook. I still deserve great food, and dropped the spatula to pick up the phone.

"Emilio?" she said when he answered. "Do you deliver?"

The Parker seminar was turning into the worst mess Horde, Packard, Capa had ever seen, mostly because the idiot who was in charge of training kept changing the seminar information. "I'm faxing some information over," she'd say when she called. "Just slot it in somewhere."

"That bitch must die," Tony said when she called at ten till five on Tuesday. "I've got a date with Lonnie tonight."

"I'll stay for the fax," Roger said. "Bonnie will understand."

"You go, I'll stay," Catra said. "I'm dateless and too tired to move anyway." Tony and Roger left, both heading for warm women, and Catra read the fax and tightened the seminar packet one more time, trying to feel grateful that there wasn't any place she had to be, no woman demanding her time and attention. At seven, she turned off the computer with relief and realized she was starving.

Emilio's seemed like an excellent idea.

"Don't tell me," Emilio said when Catra came through the swinging doors into the kitchen. "Chicken marsala."

"I've had enough chicken marsala for a while," Catra said as the phone rang. Emilio turned to get it and Catra added, "Something simple. Tomato and basil on spaghetti—" No. Forty percent of all pasta sold was spaghetti. No imagination. "Make that fettuccine—"

She stopped when Emilio held up his hand and said, "Emilio's," into the phone. Emilio listened and then looked back over his shoulder at Catra and said, "We usually don't, but for such a special customer, we'll make an exception. Chicken marsala, right? No, no, no trouble at all. You can overtip the delivery boy."

He hung up and smiled at Catra. "That was Adora. She wants chicken marsala. You can deliver it to her." "What?" Catra said, dumbfounded.

"You know the way. It's probably on your way home."

"It's not on my way home, it's not on anybody's way home except God's, the damn place is vertical. What gave you the idea I'd do this?"

Emilio shrugged. "I don't know. She called, you were here, you two are great together, it seemed like a good idea. Did you have a fight?"

"No, we didn't have a fight," Catra said. "We're not seeing each other because I'm all wrong for her and she's waiting for Elvis. Call her back and tell her your delivery boy died."

"Then she won't have anything for dinner," Emilio said. "And you know Adora. She's one of those women who eats."

Catra thought about the look on Adora's face when she ate chicken marsala. It was almost as good as the look on her face when she ate doughnuts. Which wasn't anywhere near as good as the look on her face when Catra kissed her, that had been—

Emilio shrugged. "Fine. Brian can take it to her."

"No," Catra said. "I'll take it to her. Hurry up, will you? I'm hungry."