Travis noticed. “You ask a lot of questions. What do you do for a living?” “I’m a psychologist,” she said, wondering why she sounded so apologetic.

He grinned wide, his gray eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, I’ll be damned. I sure know when to open my mouth. So have you been shrinking me, doc?”

Jenna smiled and said nothing.

“Well, okay, then, if you won’t answer that question, I’ll try another. How about taking in my show at the Hilton tonight? Ringside seat, champagne—the whole nine yards.”

Jenna was startled. It had been a while, a long while, since anyone had asked her out. Her manner and demeanor didn’t normally encourage flirtation or banter.

“I’m going to be very busy,” she said with a polite smile. “I don’t think I’ll have time for any shows.”

But she had underestimated Travis’s persistence. Before the meal was served, he had cajoled her into agreeing to see his “ninth or tenth comeback.” And by the time they’d landed, she had learned a few basic facts of his life. He was forty-one, younger than he looked. He’d been singing since he was twelve—“for pay, that is. Just singin’ for fun, I been doin’ a lot longer than that.” Although he’d never been a star of the first magnitude, Travis had made lots of money, spent it, made more, spent it again. “I guess I do that so I have to keep working,” he explained. And Jenna allowed that he might be right.

O

Is this really me? she wondered as she sang “You Are My Sunshine” with Travis to the accompaniment of the karaoke in the Hilton lounge. It certainly wasn’t Amira Badir. And as for Jenna Sorrel, had she ever been this silly, this giddy? She hadn’t—and yet she was enjoying every minute of it.

The show had been great fun—the sequined dancers, the so-so magician, even the corny ventriloquist. She had enjoyed the meaningful smiles Travis had aimed in her direction when he sang, the squeals of delight emitted by his female fans. And she could not deny she was flattered when he introduced her at the end of his set as “my beautiful lady friend from Bahston.”

His easy, guileless enthusiasm swept her along to an impromptu party in the lounge, Travis singing his personal favorites for the crowd that gathered happily to hear him. And when he’d had enough of singing, he took Jenna by the hand and showed her around the casino, encouraging her to try her hand at roulette and blackjack and craps.

It was all very different from her experience in London and Monte Carlo with Ali. Travis made it all seem like a big joyful game for overaged children.

When he lost, he moaned and groaned dramatically. And when he won, he whooped and shouted and ordered drinks for the table.