“Ah—that’s the rule, you know. The manager—”

“And reasonable enough,” Blake interrupted when he noticed the boy’s Adam’s apple working.

“We’ll just take the popcorn along,” Summer said as she rose. She tucked the barrel under one arm and slid her other through Blake’s. “Have a nice evening,” she told the usher over her shoulder as they walked out.

When they were outside, she burst out laughing. “Poor child, he thought you were going to manhandle him.”

“The thought crossed my mind, but only very briefly.”

“Long enough for him to get nervous about it.” After climbing into the car, she placed the popcorn in her lap. “You know what he thought, don’t you?”

“What?”

“That we were having an illicit affair.” Leaning over, she nipped at Blake’s ear. “The kind where your wife thinks you’re at the office, and my husband thinks I’m shopping.”

“Why didn’t we go to a motel?”

“That’s where we’re going now.” Nibbling on popcorn again, she sent him a wicked glance. “Though I think in our case we might substitute my apartment.”

“I’m willing to be flexible. Summer…” He drew her against his side as they breezed through a light. “Just what was that movie about?”

Laughing, she let her head lay against his shoulder. “I haven’t the vaguest idea.”

Later, they lay naked in her bed, the curtains open to let in the light, the windows up to let in the breeze. From the apartment below came the repetitive sound of scales being played, a bit unsteadily, on the piano. Perhaps she’d dozed for a short time, because the sunlight seemed softer now, almost rosy. But she wasn’t in any hurry for night to fall.

The sheets were warm and wrinkled from their bodies. The air was ripe with supper smells—grilling pork from the piano teacher’s apartment, spaghetti sauce from the newlyweds next door. The breeze carried the mix of both, appealingly.

“It’s nice,” Summer murmured, with her head nestled in the curve of her lover’s shoulder. “Just being here like this, knowing that anything there is to do can be done just as well tomorrow. You probably haven’t played hookey enough.” She was quite sure she hadn’t.

“If I did, the business would suffer and the board would begin to grumble. Complaining’s one of their favorite things.”

Absently, she rubbed the bottom of her foot over the top of one of his. “I haven’t asked you about the Hamilton chain because I thought you probably got enough of that at the office, and from the press, but I’d like to know if you got what you wanted.”

He thought about reaching for a cigarette then decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “I wanted those hotels. As it turned out, the deal satisfied all parties in the end. You can’t ask for more than that.”

“No.” Thoughtfully, she rolled over so that she could look at him directly. Her hair brushed over his chest. “Why did you want them? Is it the acquisition itself, the property, or just a matter of enjoying the wheeling and dealing? The strategy of negotiations?”