The Bliss Factor

  Rae glanced toward the closed doors, surprised to see the hallway was empty. She’d been so focused on Conn she hadn’t realized everyone had gone in.

  “So what are you doing later on?”

  “Well,” Rae said, “I think I’ll be seeing my parents off. I imagine they’ll want to get to Colorado Springs and their winter camp.”

  “That works for me.”

  “After that I have to pack.”

  “Pack?”

  “And put my house up for sale—since I took the job Mr. DeWitt offered me about a half hour ago.”

  “So, you’re going to be working at the FBI?”

  “Forensic accountant.”

  “Convenient.”

  She turned serious. “I didn’t do it to be close to you, Conn.”

  “I know, but it’s pretty damn convenient, so I’m hoping you’ll want to anyway—be close to me, I mean.”

  “Possible,” she said, grinning as she headed toward the courtroom.

  Conn got there first and put a hand on the door. “I said something to you a couple minutes ago. You didn’t reciprocate.”

  “If we’re keeping score, you were behind. And since it took you several months to catch up, consider it payback.”

  He started to pull the door open; she stopped him this time. “You know, Madame Zaretsky’s prediction came true. She said you weren’t long for this life. I’m glad it only turned out to be a job change.”

  “Yeah? How glad?”

  She slipped her hand into his, gave him a sidelong glance that came along with a little bit of a smirk. “Ask me that question again tonight.”

  Penny McCall lives in Michigan with her husband, three children, and two dogs, whose lives of leisure she envies, but would never be able to pull off. Her children and husband have come to accept her strange preoccupation with imaginary people. The dogs don’t worry about it, as long as they’re fed occasionally and allowed to nap on whatever piece of furniture strikes their fancy. Come to think of it, that pretty much goes for the husband, too. Visit her web-site at www.pennymccall.net.