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marry some woman you hadn’t seen in over a decade, all for the sake of an election that wouldn’t happen for years yet?”
    Did it really come off as cold-blooded as she made it sound? “Before you get on your high horse, both Nick and Barbara agreed to the arrangement. In fact, Barbara was perfectly happy to let me go on seeing Nick, as long as she got to enjoy all the other perks of being Mrs. Eric Courtland. She never had any call to complain about the way I treated her.”
    “Really? Then why did she divorce you?”
    “You’d have to ask her. All I know is, I came home one evening and she was gone. The divorce papers were delivered to my office the next day.” Strange, how the memory smarted now, when at the time he’d felt nothing but a vague emptiness. “We never spoke to each other again, except across a courtroom.”
    “I’m sorry,” Ally said. “Doesn’t sound like a great way for a marriage to end, even a sham one.” She grabbed her purse and started sliding out of the booth. “I should be getting back. I’ve still got some work to do tonight.”
    Their waitress was busy, so Eric took the check up to the bar and paid it, then followed Ally out to the car. Silence crackled in the air for several long city blocks. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. “What’re you working on?”
    “Some freelance stuff. I’m trying to make the transition from features to hard news, but it’s a bit tricky when you don’t have a steady gig.”
    “But Holly said you’d sold a few articles.”
    She gave him a look. “Holly needs to keep her mouth shut.” Then, with a sigh, she added, “It’s enough to keep me in peanut butter and shampoo, but it’s not a career. Not yet, anyway.”
    Holly’s neighborhood looked fairly safe, but Eric insisted on escorting Ally to the front door. They stood staring at each other while Eric fought the urge to shift from one foot to the other, his palms growing clammy. Despite the serious turn the evening had taken, he realized with a pang that he didn’t want it to end.
    “Listen,” he said, “I’m having a small soirée at the penthouse this Saturday. Just a few of my business acquaintances, but it might prove a good opportunity for you to make some valuable contacts, maybe even land an interview or two. I’d be honored if you could attend as my date.”
    “I can’t. I already told you, I don’t have anything to wear.”
    “Why don’t you leave that to me?”
    She shook her head slowly. “Look, Eric, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you don’t have to—”
    “I know I don’t have to. Maybe I want to.”
    “But why? You’ve never paid me this much attention before.”
    That much was true. And why not? He hadn’t opened up to anyone like this in years, not since…well, since Nick. It felt good, having someone to confide in again. “In that case, it’s high time I made up for my past neglect.”
    She covered her mouth, in an obvious attempt to stifle a giggle. An artless, girlish gesture that Eric found utterly charming. “Something tells me I’ll end up regretting this, but…okay.”
    “I’ll send the limo for you at seven-thirty.”
    “Don’t be silly. I can take the subway.”
    He flashed his widest, most evil grin. Wait till she saw what he had in store for her. “Not in what you’ll be wearing.”
    * * *
    Ally found out exactly what Eric meant when a uniformed courier arrived at her door on Saturday morning, bearing a huge red-beribboned box from one of the most exclusive women’s boutiques on Fifth Avenue. Inside, nestled in a cotton-candy cloud of pink tissue paper, lay a knee-length Vera Wang cocktail gown, dripping with strands of hand-sewn beads, in a faux-1920s flapper style. At first glance, it appeared to be classic black, but when Ally held it up to the light she saw it was really a deep, dark midnight blue. There was another, smaller box swimming in all the paper, containing a brand-new pair of matching Manolos,