“I’m not worrying, just watching.” And thinking of Michael, she admitted. What was he doing? Why was it their paths hadn’t crossed once since the night before? But she made herself come away from the window and pour a glass of champagne. “What are we going to watch first? I vote for To Have and Have Not.”

“ ‘You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve?’ ” Susan sighed, dipped a moist red strawberry into creamy white chocolate. “The world’s champion come-on.”

“World’s best brush-off,” Margo said, continuing the theme. “Bette Davis. ‘I’d love to kiss you, but I just washed my hair.’ ”

“Best wrenching good-bye.” Laura said, getting into the swing. “Bogart to Bergman. ‘We’ll always have Paris.’ ”

When Kate came in ten minutes later, they were in a heated debate over the ten most dangerous men in cinema history.

“Newman,” Margo insisted. “It’s the eyes. Cold or hot and incredibly blue. You watch The Long, Hot Summer, Hud, or—”

“Grant.” Susan sat up to make her point. “Dangerous because it’s unexpected. The charm undermines a woman’s defenses, and he has her.”

“Bogart,” Laura disagreed. “In anything. Raw, dangerous, elemental, a hero despite his instincts.”

“I can’t believe you’re discussing men.” Disgusted, Kate plopped down. “I just left those four baboons. Is that white chocolate?” She reared up again and used her finger to dip in. “And,” she continued, licking it, “they were already smug, superior, and sarcastic. Mick’s the worst. I can’t believe he brought up that time I ran into him on the wharf and we . . .”

“We?” Laura came to attention. “We what?”

“Nothing.” She should have filled her mouth, Kate decided, and began to do so. “It was nothing. He was home on leave and he looked sort of . . . interesting. We went for a drive, that’s all.”

“You went for a drive?” Laura repeated. “With Michael? That’s all?”

“Well, yeah, mostly.” Done it now, Kate thought, as every eye in the room focused on her. “Well, okay, so maybe I experimented a little, for a minute. Who’s in charge of the VCR?”

Before she could pop up to take charge herself, Laura clamped a hand on her shoulder. “Define ‘experimented.’ ”

“I let him kiss me . . . a couple of times. That’s it. Just that. Do we have Bringing Up Baby? I could use a laugh.”

“You and Michael necked in his car?”

“Not necked, exactly. I wouldn’t call it necking. Margo—” She appealed to her friend for help.

“No, a couple of kisses does not constitute necking. I necked with him, so I know this to be true.”

“You—” Laura choked, grabbed the champagne bottle. “You—”