He answered in a quiet, soothing voice. He wasn’t looking for an argument. “Reading a lot—”

“What? The Executioner series for the fourteenth time?”

“—and watching movies.”

“A Dirty Harry festival, I suppose.” ’You look great,” he said, refusing to let her irk him as he tried to turn the talk toward Gia. He wasn’t lying. She filled her dress nicely, and the pinkish color, whatever it was, seemed made for her blond hair and blue eyes.

“You’re not doing so bad yourself.”

“It’s my Fred Astaire suit. Always wanted to wear one of these. Like it?”

Gia nodded. “Is it as uncomfortable as it looks?”

“More so. Don’t know how anyone ever tap danced in one of these. Collar’s choking me.”

“It’s not your style, anyway.”

“You’re right.” Jack preferred to be unobtrusive. He was happiest when he could walk past with no one noticing. “But something got into me tonight. Couldn’t pass up the chance to be Fred Astaire just once.”

“You don’t dance and your date will never be mistaken for Ginger Rogers.”

“I can dream, can’t I?”

“Who is she?”

Jack studied Gia closely. Could there be just a trace of jealousy there? Was that possible?

“She’s…” He looked around the room until he spotted Kusum. “… that man’s sister.”

“Is she the ’personal matter’ you helped him out with?”

“Oh?” he said with a slow smile. “You’ve been asking about me?”

Gia’s eyes shifted away. “Burkes brought your name up. Not me.”

“You know something, Gia?” Jack said, knowing he shouldn’t but helpless to resist. “You’re beautiful when you’re jealous.”

Her eyes flashed and her cheeks turned red. “Don’t be absurd!” She turned and walked away.

Typical, Jack thought. She wanted nothing to do with him but didn’t want to see him with anybody else.

He looked around for Kolabati—not a typical woman by any standard—and found her standing beside her brother, who seemed to be doing his best to pretend she wasn’t there.

As he walked toward the silent pair, Jack marveled at the way Kolabati’s dress clung to her. It was made of a gauzy, dazzlingly white fabric that came across her right shoulder and wrapped itself around her breasts like a bandage. Her left shoulder was completely bare, exposing her dark, flawless skin for all to admire. And there were many admirers.

“Hello, Mr. Bahkti,” he said as he handed Kolabati her glass.

Kusum glanced at the champagne, at Kolabati, then turned an icy smile on Jack.

“May I compliment you on the decadence of your attire.”

“Thank you. I knew it wasn’t stylish, so I’ll settle for decadent. How’s your grandmother?”

“Physically well, but suffering from a mental aberration, I fear.”

“She’s doing fine,” Kolabati said with a scathing look at her brother. “I have the latest word and she’s doing just fine.” Then she smiled sweetly. “Oh, by the way, Kusum dear. Jack was asking about durba grass today. Anything you can tell him about it?”

Jack saw Kusum stiffen at the mention of durba grass. He knew Kolabati had been startled when he had asked her about it on the phone today. What did durba grass mean to these two?