He decided he was kindly disposed toward Marianne. "She any good?"

"Yes, very. One day galleries are going to be cutting their throats to

get her paintings. She used to do the most incredible caricatures of

the nuns." She glanced over, noting his frown.

"What is it?"

"Probably just rookie-cop instincts on overtime. See that sedan, just

behind us?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Yes. So?"

"It's been behind us since we picked up the burgers." He switched lanes.

The sedan followed suit. "I'd say he was tailing us, if he wasn't so

stupid about it."

She let out a long, tired sigh. "It's probably Sweeney."

"Sweeney?"

"Bodyguard. He always finds me. Sometimes I think Dad planted a homing

device under my skin."

"Yeah, it could be. I guess it makes sense." But he didn't care to be

shadowed, so amaturely shadowed, on what he considered his first date

with a longtime crush. "I could lose him."

Emma tilted down her gla.s.ses. Behind them her eyes glinted with the

first real laughter he'd seen in her. "Really?"

"I could give it my best shot. This little baby's bound to leave him in

the dust,"

"Do it," she said, and grinned. Delighted, Michael punched the gas, cut

off a station wagon, and

peeled up to eighty. "We used to race on the freeway-in my callow and

misspent youth." He swerved again, dodging between a pickup and a BMW,

then with a twist of the wrist shot in front of a Caddy and let the

Mercedes cruise at ninety.

"You're good." Laughing, Emma twisted in her seat and peered at the

traffic. "I can't see him."

"He's back there, trying to get around the Caddy. I p.i.s.sed the Caddy

off so he's hogging the road. Hang on." He swerved, spun, and jockeyed,

then raced off an exit. One illegal U-turn, and the Mercedes's powerful

engine, and he was back on the freeway, heading in the opposite

direction. They whizzed by the sedan, slowed to a decorous speed and

sailed calmly down another ramp.

"Really good at it," Emma said again. "Did they teach you that at the

police academy?"

"Some skills you're born with." He stopped, then stroked the steering

wheel. "What a honey."

Emma leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thanks. Again." Before he

could respond, she had s.n.a.t.c.hed up the bag of burgers and was racing

toward the sand.

"I love this!" Still laughing, she spun in a circle. "I really love the

water, the smell of it, the sound of it. If they could just plop an

ocean down next to Broadway I'd be in heaven."

He wanted to take hold of her then, to grab her in mid-spin and find out

if she tasted nearly as good as she looked. Then she dropped down on

the sand and dug into the bag.

"These smell great, too." She held one up before she realized he was