She tensed as Dan unfolded from the car and came toward her. He was wearing his glasses, and he’d thrown a Stars’ windbreaker over a plum-colored shirt and jeans. Pooh began barking and straining at the end of her leash to get to him.

She tried to brace herself for what was certain to be another painful encounter, but it had been a difficult, exhausting day, and she didn’t have many resources left.

He looked down at the fluffy white poodle trying to lasso his ankles with her leash. “Hey there, dawg.”

“Her name is Pooh.”

“Uh-huh. I guess it’s just one of those words I don’t like to use too often. Like ‘snookums’.” The breeze rumpled his dark blond hair as he took her in from sweatshirt to sneakers. “You look different. Cute.”

She’d been called many things, but never cute. “What do you want?”

“How about a little meaningless chitchat for starters? Nice evening, isn’t it?”

She couldn’t let herself be pulled into whatever game he was playing, so she tugged on Pooh’s leash and began walking. He fell into step next to her, adjusting his long stride to accommodate her shorter one.

“Weather’s real nice. It’s still hot during the day, but at night, you can tell fall’s coming.”

She said nothing.

“This is a real pretty area.”

She continued walking.

“You know, you might think about contributing a little something to this conversation.”

“We bimbos don’t think.”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and said quietly, “Phoebe, I’m sorry. My temper got the best of me. That’s no excuse, I know, but it’s the truth. If anybody’s a bimbo, it’s me.”

She had expected anger, not regret, but his attack that morning had wounded her too deeply, and she said nothing.

“It seems I’m always apologizing to you for something. It’s been like that from the beginning, hasn’t it?”

“I guess we’re oil and water.”

He ducked beneath a tree branch that dipped too low over the path. “I’d say we’re more like gasoline and a blowtorch.”

“Either way, I think we should try to avoid each other as much as possible.” She stopped near one of the streetlamps. “I can’t do anything about the suspension, you know. Ron refuses to lift it, and I won’t countermand his orders.”

“You know you’re violating my contract.”

“I know.”

“The last thing you need right now is a lawsuit.”

“I know that, too.”

“How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“You keep me company next Saturday afternoon, and I keep my lawyers away from you.”

That was the last thing she’d expected.