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hang in there, David. And I'll try to be more supportive."
"Hey, you've done a lot already. It was your contact with Beth and Philo that
got me a writer and a cameraman."
"Don't let Philo hear you say that. He thinks he's a cine- matographer."
"Maybe he is," David allowed. "I can't figure out that guy."
She leaned back in her chair, enjoying the dimly lit, ethnic atmosphere of
Alexander the Greek's. A drummer and a bouzouki player took a casual
stance on the edge of the dance floor and began playing softly Their lilting
rhythm suited her mood. The lighting, wall hangings and displays of earthen
pottery gave the restaurant an intimate, crimson glow.
"What happens next?" she asked. "Is it like Zorba the Greek? Are we going
to break plates on the floor?"
"No plate breaking, but there is a belly dancer," he said. "In case you've
conveniently forgotten, what happens next is you tell me what you'd like
changed about me."
"Two things. I want you to share your emotions with me. Not just when
you're happy. I want to know when you're sad or angry with me."
"I'm never angry with you."
She rolled her eyes. "That's not possible."
"What's thing number two?"
"The reverse of what you are saying. I want all your time. I'd like to
dominate your every thought." Teasing, she batted her eyelashes. "All
Jennifer. Twenty-four hours a day."
"You'd be surprised how close I am to that state. I might not always show
it part of my old-fashioned reserve but I'm insane about you."
"Insane?"
"Absolutely. I'm being fitted for a straitjacket tomorrow."
The very idea of David being insane about anything was so absurd that she
giggled. Despite his roguish smile and his glamorous choice of occupation,
he was still as stable as a banker. My banker. With interest. He was right
when he said that she liked to see him in his utterly conservative three-piece
suits. "You'd probably look good," she said.
He raised one eyebrow. "Am I missing something here?"
"You'd look good in a straitjacket," she explained.
"Of course it depends on the tailoring."
"Absolutely," she said with mock seriousness. "Fit and fabric are so
important in straitjackets for the well-dressed man. I think you'd look best in
gray pinstripes to match your eyes."
He stretched his hand across the table, and she slipped her fingers within his
grasp. "I've missed this," he said. "We haven't had much chance to just be
together."
"To be silly together?"
"To be anything. I like this, Jennifer. A lot."
"Know what I think?" She gave his hand a little squeeze. "You'd look even
better out of your straight jacket."
As they were serenaded by the sensual drumbeat and the melody from the
lute-shaped bouzouki, Jennifer's gaze met his across the table. His eyes
gleamed in the soft pinkish light. He seemed to be laughing, teasing and
promising at the same time.
She concentrated on the promise. Tonight when they made love, she knew it
would be special. She had to grin. They were always incredible together. He
never failed to ignite her passion.
"It's times like these," he said, "that I wish we both smoked."
"Why?"
"Think movies, Jennifer."
"Do I have to?"
"Remember all those smoldering scenes where the hero reaches across the
table, fondles the heroine's hand and lights her cigarette? And the one where
he lights both cigarettes in his mouth and hands one to her?"
"Obviously," she said, "that was before the surgeon general's report."
"It was still suggestive."
"David," she said with a vampish wink. "I think we're beyond suggestions."
The increased volume of the music precluded further conversation, and they
settled back to watch as Aziza the belly dancer rippled her way across the
dance floor in the center of the restaurant. She was a big, voluptuous
woman, and her dancing was more athletic than sensual.
Jennifer and David scooted their ringside seats tc yet her for a better view.
The temperature seemed to rise several degrees as the crowd joined in,
clapping along with the music and weaving to the sensuous bouzouki
tempo.
"I'd love to dance like that," Jennifer shouted to David.
"Go for it. There's a lot of space on that floor."
"I'd be too embarrassed."
At a signal from Aziza, the audience called out in unison,
"Hey!"
Aziza drifted into the audience, randomly selecting a partner to dance along
with her. As partner number one found his own belly dance rhythm and
sashayed back to his place, Aziza turned her heavy-lidded gaze upon David.
"Hey!"
Aziza beckoned. David protested, but Jennifer encouraged. "Here's your
chance, David. Loosen up. Get rid of some of that old-fashioned stiffness."
"Stiffness?" He rose to the challenge. "I'll show you who's stiff."
In a fluid, dramatic movement he stripped off his suit jacket and clapped his
hands above his head as he went toward Aziza the belly dancer.
"Hey!"
Jennifer was delighted with his performance. David was energetic, and he
had a natural charisma, the legacy of Clayton Forbes. He attempted to
follow Aziza's sinuous moves but gave up almost immediately. Instead, he
dropped to the floor and did push-ups in time to the music. Then he bounced
back to his feet and swung through a series of toe touches before getting into
the thrumming bouzouki beat with vigorous hand clapping.
Jennifer laughed delightedly. She could forgive any klutz- iness when he
met her gaze and smiled his dazzling smile.
"Hey!"
When Aziza moved on to another man, David approached Jennifer. He held
out his hand to her. She demurred for only an instant before stepping out
onto the dance floor. The music seemed to be twanging within her as she
shimmied and swung her slender hips with glorious abandon.
Jennifer waved her arms, seductively appealing to David with graceful
gestures and laughing and stamping her feet. The rhythm switched to a
slower, gently pinging tempo.
"Hey!"
David grasped her firmly around the waist and lifted one hand above his
head. She imitated his pose. Gracefully they circled each other in an
unchoreographed but perfectly synchronized dance.
"Hey!"
Their performance ended when David pulled her close to him, then closer.
Their lips were scant inches apart. A dance floor was too public for the
heedless desire she felt, and yet she would not have wished to be anywhere
else. The moment was perfect, in harmony with the universal dance of love.
He kissed her emphatically, and they returned to their table amid wild,
appreciative applause from the crowd.
"Hey! Hey! Hey!"
He glanced at his watch. "I hate to do this, Jennifer, but I need to make a
phone call to Los Angeles."
"Oh. no, David. Please don't, not now."
"I have to." He rose. "This is the only time I can be sure of catching this guy.
I'll be back in a minute."
As she watched him slip through the crowd toward the telephones, her
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