“Maybe you should try harder?”

“How?”

Doreen hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know. Knock on her door and ask to borrow a cup of sugar.”

Ruby squinted at Doreen. “Borrow a cup of sugar? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“It works in the movies,” Doreen said before taking a quick gulp of her beer. “Or…or maybe follow her one night. Find out where she works, and then make it a point to drop in.”

“I’m pretty sure that falls under stalking, and if she is a mortician working the night shift, how exactly would I explain me dropping by—huh? Looking for a dead friend?”

Doreen slouched. “Yeah, that does sound kind of lame when you say it like that.”

“Yes, it does.”

“But I think you should still figure out a way to meet her. None of the women you’ve met in the bars seem to hold your interest for very long.”

“Gee, thanks. Some friend you are.”

“What? It’s the truth. You see them for a couple of weeks, and that’s it. It’s not exactly a secret.”

“I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about you trying to fix me up with someone you think is a creature of the night. Not exactly what I would call a safe date, you know?”

“Yeah,” Doreen said, rubbing her chin. “Well, there is that.”

Chapter Two

Bennett reached into her pocket as she approached the door, and as she pulled out her keys, she stopped and admired the woman on the other side of the glass.

Lisa Jensen’s heritage was evident in the blonde of her hair and the sky blue of her eyes, which were currently framed by rectangular tortoiseshell glasses. Dressed for the part of a curator of the high-end art gallery, she was wearing a tan pencil skirt and a cream-colored chiffon blouse with billowing sleeves, and on her wrists were several gold bracelets. The plate glass of the door couldn’t prevent Bennett from hearing them jingle as Lisa lightly dusted a few of the sculptures sitting atop pedestals scattered about the front room of the gallery, and Bennett smiled. Lisa was indeed something to behold.

Lisa heard the key in the lock and turned as Bennett walked in the door. “Hey there,” she said, picking up the wastebasket she’d placed by her feet.

“Good evening,” Bennett said, locking the door behind her. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No problem. I was just finishing up a few things,” Lisa said, clicking across the highly polished floor in her three-inch heels. She returned the now empty chrome wastebasket to its spot near the door and was about to fill Bennett in on the day when something caught Lisa’s eye. “What in the world is on your pants?”