“Carl,” Lori said, “you’re so insufferably morbid! I think this heat has made everybody morbid.” She reached over and touched his arm. “That little flyspeck up there isn’t going to hit us—is it?”

“Don’t worry.” Carl laughed. “If we were in any danger, the national weather service and the disaster relief agencies would be all over the radio and TV, telling us to get out of here. If that thing was a meteor, the whole world would know about it by now. You couldn’t keep something like that secret for long.”

Lori’s face brightened perceptibly, and as she slowly walked her carefully manicured fingers up Carl’s bare arm, she whispered, “Carl, let’s get out of here. Okay?”

“What have you got in mind?” he asked.

“Let’s go to Colorado.”

“You mean permanently?”

“No, of course not, silly.” She gave him a seductive look. “Let’s take a long weekend and get away from this heat. You need a break. I just finished that design job for the Forresters’ new home, so I need a break. Let’s just go. Now.”

Carl smiled. “Good idea, Lori, but you know I’m running the launch program for the new Hologram Sportswear campaign. That means big bucks for the agency and a healthy bonus for us. I’d like a break, but if I don’t keep my eye on things the agency could really blow it. If that were to happen, JPT could kiss America’s biggest advertiser good-bye.”

“Carl, I know all that. But, for heaven’s sake, going away for a couple of days to cool off won’t make that much difference! Everybody knows how good you are, and Harvey will cover for you. Tell him you’re going to sit on a mountaintop and meditate for a couple of days. And that you’ll come back with a great new slogan for the world’s greatest sportswear collection. He’ll go for that.”

“I don’t know, honey,” Carl said. “Even if we decided to go, and even if the agency wouldn’t miss me for a few days, we couldn’t possibly get airline tickets now—even if we turned over the mortgage to the house. Greg Peterson told me last week that every flight to the mountains has been double-booked for weeks.”

Lori smiled mischievously, then lifted her placemat and held up an envelope. “Two first-class tickets from L.A. to Colorado Springs leaving at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. Continental Airlines to the mountains and an air-conditioned luxury sedan waiting for us at the Hertz counter in Colorado Springs.”

Carl looked at her in amazement.

“And besides,” she continued, “we don’t have to mortgage anything. I’m offering my love four days of cool mountain air, lush fairways, blue skies, and four nights of nuptial bliss. So, what do you say, handsome?”

“Are you serious, Lori? You already have the tickets?” Carl sat up in his chair, and Lori nodded, grinning at him like a mischievous child.

“You are incredible,” her husband murmured. He leaned forward and gave her a kiss. “But please don’t tell me how you got these tickets. I don’t want to know.” Then he added with a smile, “But do tell me you came by them honestly.”