Grace backhanded the ball into the net and called for a halt to the game. "That's got to be it for me, I've got a three day shift starting in a few hours. By the time I shower and drive into the city, I'll just make it. Thank God it's the last one for a week. I'll even be off for the celebrations."

 Amanda had secured court time for the two of them from a disappointed Ramon, promising to make it up to him later. Threatening to hunt her down if she defaulted, he took his name off the list and entered Grace's in his place.

"That was fun. We should play together more often." Amanda slipped the cover on her racket and gathered the balls, dropping them in their tube container as they headed to the clubhouse.

"I don't think Ramon would approve. He's never forgiven me for that black eye." A response to Ramon's advances after a long ago tennis lesson.

"Oh pooh! That was ages ago. He's forgotten all about it." She held the door for them to go in. The blast of cool air made them both gasp, and they walked quickly to the locker room.

"So you two are an item?" Grace asked, stepping out of shorts and peeling off her top.

"He thinks so," Amanda smiled, leading the way to the showers. "He is pretty cooperative in bed though." Her laugh turned to an echo in the marble shower room.

"Cooperative?" Grace fiddled with the taps, and adjusted the nozzle to a sharp spray.

"Yeah. You know... does as he's told."

"Ramon? Somehow I just don't see that picture. He comes across more as Mr. Macho than a boy toy."

Amanda lathered her body and performed slow circles under the stream of water. "It's all in the thumb," she grinned, "I've watched whole episodes of NCIS without doing a thing."

Grace gave her an appraising look, drawing a, 'cross-my-heart' gesture from the amused Amanda. "Maybe I punched him in the eye a little prematurely." They both giggled, then broke into gales of laughter.

*****

With a look of weary disgust, Nigel removed the fancy candles from the dining room table and set them back on the buffet. Turning back, he eyed the three place settings of Victoria's good china and sterling silver with a feeling of apprehensive dismay. Victoria was determined to make this into more than just a simple dinner among friends; he could almost touch the invisible strands of the web she was weaving, not so clandestinely.

She came into the room humming, placing crystal wine glasses by each plate and straightening a few utensils, which had apparently strayed from their original place.

"A little over the top don't you think?" Nigel scowled.

"Not at all," she sang merrily, "I don't get many opportunities to use my good things any more. It's the perfect occasion."

"It's not an occasion, Victoria," he said warning her yet again.

"Oh, loosen your truss, nephew. Why must everything be a plot in your eyes." She headed back to the kitchen with Nigel in close pursuit.

"Because everything you do is a plot!"

"Nonsense. Open the wine and let it breathe." She twirled some knobs on the stove, peeked under a couple of lids, and stood back smiling. "Perfect. Everything is perfect."

"For you maybe." He grumbled, nearly dropping the wine bottle as the doorknocker banged loudly.

"Well go and answer it for heaven's sake!" She said, shooing him off and returning to the dining room.

Nigel squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and answered the door. "Susan, Hi. C'mon in." She stepped past him, smiling brightly as he shut the door.

"These are for you." She pressed a foil wrapped bouquet of flowers into his hands.

"Me? You mean Victoria." He held them away, looking at her through the thicket of carnation blossoms. Her dark hair shone with a creamy halo from the kitchen lighting behind her, framing the pale ecru tone of her skin. Nigel lost himself for a moment in the gaze of her stunning, almond shaped eyes, the scent from the flowers piquing his senses.

Susan turned to greet Victoria as she came out of the dining room, and Nigel let his attention wander down the back of her snug black skirt to the dark stockings and high-heeled pumps.

"Oh you brought flowers! How delicious." Victoria snatched the bouquet from Nigel and took Susan by the arm out to the kitchen. "We'll find a vase for these and get them in water right away."

"What a scrumptious smell," Susan declared, as Nigel stopped in the doorway, leaning on the frame.

"I hope you like broiled salmon," Victoria said, plumping the flowers in a trumpet shaped, cut glass creation.

Eeeeew! I love salmon. I hope you haven't gone to a lot of trouble, Victoria."

"No trouble at all, was it Nigel?"

"Huh?" He clicked his eyes away from Susan's backside with a jerk.

"I said, dinner was no trouble at all, was it."

Uh, no- no trouble." The trouble is still to come, he thought.