It was a reflex that made her stand on tiptoe behind Anthea to kiss her neck. It was something she would naturally do with her lover... With the woman she loved.

She jolted into the here and now.

The woman she loved... it didn't seem possible. It had taken so long to get to know Anthea even remotely well and even now Shay knew Anthea had depths she hadn't seen. And yet loving her seemed so easy. So easy she wanted to be suspicious of it, like wondering if it was Anthea's secure financial position, not Anthea herself. She knew Anthea thought that they could just agree to put the money aside, but it was about as easy as forgetting Anthea was white. It had an impact on their relationship and she should be on guard against feeling anything for the money.

Perhaps her success in discovering NOC-U's illegal toxic dumping was pumping up her self-esteem because the question was bothering her less. But it still nagged at her.

Forget about your pride, she told herself, what about your heart? The woman she loved had an exquisite neck, for example. Up on her tiptoes, she kissed it again.

"What's that for?" Anthea wiggled her rear end, which distracted Shay a great deal.

It would be very easy to forget pride, heart and independence for the joy of stroking Anthea's velvet backside. "I like your house," she said finally. An inane thing to say, she thought, when what she wanted to say was much more serious.

Anthea was cutting zucchini into julienne strips. "Enough to live here?" Her voice sounded nonchalant but there was a break in the steady beat of the knife on the chopping block.

The question was so unexpected that Shay didn't know what to say. She knew how she felt, but was completely in the dark about Anthea's feelings. Except for the sex. It was clear Anthea enjoyed the sex a lot.

Anthea dropped her knife and whirled around. "I'm sorry. I... I'm not putting any pressure on you or asking you to live with me or anything like that. It's only been a couple of weeks. We should probably date for a while..."

"I wouldn't exactly call it dating. That sounds so... civilized," Shay said. You don't make me feel civilized in the least, she thought.

"I feel like I've known you for ages, but really, I don't want to pressure you."

Shay looked anxiously up into Anthea's face. "I'm... I'd like... Can we not ask that yet? I feel so up in the air. I'll be looking for another job soon and... I'm so unsettled I can't think about settling."

"But you might consider it?" The tiny freckles dusting Anthea's cheeks were plainly visible for once.

"I've already considered it." Parts of her mind were telling her it would never work. Anthea was too closeted. Too rich. Too white. Too Yuppified. But she couldn't possibly say anything but yes. Whenever Anthea asked her. If Anthea asked her.

Which meant she was in love.

It felt really, really good.

It scared her to death.

Anthea opened her mouth, then closed it again. There was an uncomfortable silence, then Anthea finally said, "Do you want to make something for dessert?"

Shay smiled, though the feeling of anticlimax was overwhelming. "I thought I could just have you."

"Want to go over to the Cafe Ptomaine with me?"

Adrian looked up at Anthea suspiciously. "Usually you just demand my presence. Why the soft gloves?"

"Oh, no particular reason." Anthea felt a blush start at her neck.

"Are you getting married or something?"

Anthea smiled. "Well, as a matter of fact, I might be getting or-somethinged. But that's not the reason for the lunch invite."

"Just my charming personality, I suppose." Adrian twisted his lips to one side. "Against my better judgment I'll have lunch with you. Are you buying?"

Anthea raised one eyebrow. "Are you kidding? This is the woman who made it possible for you to have dinner with a certain athlete, remember?"

Anthea waited until Adrian was halfway through his plate of cafeteria beef stew — they had the audacity to call it beef bourguignon — before she led the conversation around to the topic of ex-lovers. More explicitly, Adrian's ex-lovers.

"You know the guy I mean. The one who does graphics for engineering—"

"Oh, yeah, Erik. What about him?"

"Do you still keep in touch? I don't know how much people keep in touch with their ex-lovers."

"You haven't kept in touch with any of yours. You probably will never say two words to Lois whereas I talk to Erik all the time."

"Why is that?"

Adrian shrugged. "We made something together. We did some things together for the first time. Don't get that prudish look on your face," he said. "You have a one track mind. Erik and I learned to scuba dive together. We still have it in common."

Anthea munched on a crouton. Had she and Lois made anything together? Or did they just happen to be doing the same things at the same time? She shook the thought away and remembered what she wanted to find out. "So you still talk?"

"Once a month or so," Adrian said. He suddenly snapped to, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. "What do you want with Erik?"

"Well..."

"Oh, God," Adrian said. "You and what's-her-name want to have a baby together and you need a stud."

Anthea clapped a hand over her mouth. She could feel herself blushing. She swallowed and said, "We do not!"

"I don't know why you'd want Erik's genes, anyway. He's got bad knees."

"I need something he may have."

Adrian waited for a second, then said, "Is this twenty questions? Do I have to drag it out of you?"

"I need some maps of the refinery that have grid locators on them."

"You can order a set..." Adrian's voice trailed away as Anthea shook her head vehemently.

"No one can know where I got them."

Adrian put down his fork. "You'll have to do better than that."

Anthea dropped her voice. "Shay needs them for a... project."

"Some consulting work? But why NOC-U's maps?"

"It's not consulting. There's something going on, something illegal," she whispered. "The maps will help build a case."

Adrian looked skeptical. "A case for what?"

"Keep your voice down," Anthea hissed. "They've been moving soil around that may not be clean."

Adrian leaned toward her. "Why do we care about dirty dirt?"

"Because on an oil refinery, dirty dirt means toxic."

Adrian's eyebrows disappeared into his hair. "Are you sure?" His voice ended with a squeak.

Anthea nodded. After sorting the invoices, they had found a handful that were decidedly suspicious — charged to GPG, approval from one senior vice president, work done at night, and involving several cubic tons of soil each. Shay had written down the grid markings and sneaked a quick look at the map book this morning. She'd called to say, cryptically, that the tracks were pretty plain.

"So you think Erik's graphic files will give you the info you need?"

"We need grid markers and general landmarks — just what they use for permit applications. I remembered Erik and—"

"Decided to bribe me with a piece of cafeteria chocolate cake," Adrian said.

Anthea frowned. "What cake?"

Adrian fluttered his eyelashes at her. "Better yet, I've heard for ages about your gourmet kitchen, and there's this athletic-type guy I want to impress, but I can't afford Chez Panisse..."

Anthea tried not to smile. In as severe a tone as she could manage, she said, "Saturday night. At six. Bring the goods and don't be late."

10