Chapter Nine

Geekronym: I/O

Translation: Input/Output

Definition: Computer system communication. “Inputs” are signals or data received by the computer; “outputs” are the signals or data sent from it.

In the last half hour, while Daniel had worn a groove in the sidewalk in front of Cafe Niccolo, the traffic down 23rd had picked up as Portlanders trolled for dinner and drinks.

The fifth time he wiped his damp palms on the outside of his khakis, he regretted not opting for darker colored pants. At this rate, by the time Charlie arrived, he’d look as if he’d been strolling through a car wash.

When was the last time he’d been this on-edge about a date? Even in the early days with Trisha, before the doubt had set in, he’d never felt this keyed up, as if he were poised on the brink of a life-altering event.

He had to believe neither he nor Charlie had changed so much that they couldn’t find their old connection. But after last night, no more taking shit for granted. This time, he’d get it right.

He turned from his last patrol to the corner and there she was, the floaty material of her shirt drifting around her like multi-colored smoke. She slowed down and stopped a couple of yards away and made a big production out of looking around the street, up in the trees, under cars.

Holy crap. When she bent over, the view from both front and back sent his blood pounding in areas he’d prefer to keep restrained in public.

He cleared his throat and grasped his wrist in front of his crotch to avoid advertising his lack of control. Portland might be the city of the Naked Bike Ride, but he didn’t have the permits for this kind of personal display.

“Lose something?”

She checked behind a bush. “The new man I was supposed to meet. Did you see anyone with a red rose wander past?” The smile that flickered across her face was the adult version of her mischievous childhood grin. Another layer melted off his icy core and the tension in his shoulders eased.

“Sorry. Guess you’ll have to make do with me.” She chuckled, and he gestured toward the entrance. “Shall we?”

When their knuckles collided as they both reached for the handle at once, she flushed, her mouth quirking in a lopsided smile.

“Sorry. I mean…um…thanks. But you don’t have to open doors for me.”

He stood aside to let her precede him. “Maybe not in your reality.”

“My reality…” Her laugh was strangled and she touched the side of her face under her hair before she ducked through the door.

The host met Daniel’s gaze over the top of Charlie’s head and flashed a surreptitious thumbs-up, shielded by the side of his podium. He pulled out two menus and a wine list with unnecessary flourish. “Right this way.”

They followed him, Daniel’s hand hovering at the small of Charlie’s back, the urge to touch nearly overwhelming. No. Too intimate. Don’t assume, you ass. Instead, he dropped his hands to his sides as they trailed after the host, whose route through the restaurant seemed designed to take them past every occupied table like a foodie conga line.

“Voilá. Your table.” He posed next to the four-top in the corner as if waiting for the ooh of the crowd.

He sure wasn’t getting it from Charlie.

She couldn’t miss the two dozen roses dominating the table, the ones Daniel had trusted to the host to set up this scenario. Her lips parted and her eyes widened, and half the restaurant erupted into applause.

Daniel cleared his throat. “Roses. As promised.”

Instead of the smile of appreciation that he’d hoped for, he caught the sheen of tears in her eyes. “A rose. Only one. You…you promised.”

He glanced from her tight-lipped face to the giant bouquet. Shit. Wrong choice again. “I…uh…figured I had a lot of ground to make up.”

She took a deep breath and dropped into the seat furthest from him, although from the look on her face, he suspected she’d have preferred to sit at another table altogether. When she accepted the menu from the bewildered host, it shook with the trembling of her hand.

A waiter glided over and set a basket of crusty bread on the corner of the table. “My my. Someone certainly knows how to make a statement.”

Charlie sank lower in her chair, turning her head toward the window and holding up the menu to shield her profile. “Lord.”

Her murmur was barely as loud as the gurgle of water as the waiter filled their glasses, but he must have caught it. He cast a sharp glance at Daniel and set his pitcher down on a nearby empty table.

“As gorgeous as these are, if we keep them here, you won’t have any room for your plates, especially if you order the appetizer special, which, by the way, I highly recommend.” He picked up the vase. “How about I put them behind the host’s stand and you can pick them up on the way out?”

The look of relief and gratitude on Charlie’s face when he removed the bouquet had Daniel grinding his molars. He’d wanted that my-hero look directed at him, although with less of a thank-you-for-saving-me-from-certain-death flavor and more of a where-have-you-been-for-the-last-half-of-my-life.

“Charlie?” Daniel said. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

She peeked at him from behind her menu shield. “Nothing that a really deep hole or a plus-seven cloak of invisibility wouldn’t cure.”

He leaned toward her, keeping his voice low. “Sorry. Guess I went a little over the top.”

Charlie heaved a sigh that fluttered the flame of the candle in the middle of the table and lowered her menu. “It’s not you. It’s me. Never mind. I’ll recover.”

The waiter reappeared sans roses. “All set. Now, can I tell you about the specials? Get you something to drink while you decide?”

“Do you have any hemlock on tap?” Charlie muttered.

He winked at her. “Not tonight. Only on Mondays. You like red wine?” Charlie nodded and scooted up in her chair. “Then trust me, I’ve got just the thing.”

“Make it two,” Daniel said.

The misery on her face socked him right in the solar plexus. You’ve ruined another evening for her. Fucking brilliant. He was about to offer to take her home when her expression changed. She sat up straight, her attention focused on the dessert case near the entrance, with a militant gleam in her eye reminiscent of the time she’d caught one of their classmates tormenting a stray kitten.

“Excuse me for a minute, please?” She marched over to a slender, dark-haired man dressed in a fusion of GQ style and Portland hipster chic. Daniel couldn’t hear what she said, but she punctuated her words with quick jabs of her finger at the man’s face. He put one hand on his chest and made a who-me face that wouldn’t fool a toddler. Charlie’s hands fell to her sides and her shoulders drooped.

Apparently, Daniel wasn’t the only one in her disappointment crosshairs tonight. The knowledge wasn’t as reassuring as he’d expected.

…

Charlie crowded close enough to Gideon to avoid being overheard by the host. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were going clubbing.”

“I was. But just as I was about to hit the dance floor with a perfectly adorable guy, I was consumed by an insatiable desire for bread pudding.”

“Uh-huh.”

He widened his eyes in faux innocence. “What? It could happen to anyone. But since I’m here…” He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “How’s it going?”

Charlie heaved a mega-sigh. “Not well. Another direct hit by the humiliation torpedoes.” She glanced back at the table where Daniel chatted with the waiter, who had returned with the wine. “Shields at 17 percent and falling. I think we’re running incompatible operating systems.”

“Then stop mixing your geek metaphors and build an interface, for pity’s sake.” He marched across the restaurant, chin high.

An interface. Lord, if only she could do it, she’d boot up a VR-Charlie, the native life form of this Virtual Reality, the place where a VR-Daniel hadn’t abandoned her. Where he magically knew better than to subject her to public scrutiny.

She slid into her seat as Gideon draped himself in the chair opposite her, next to Daniel, daring her with a double arch of his brows. “Planning to introduce me to your friend?”

Charlie held her breath. This was one of her tests for adding men to her data matrix. If they reacted badly to Gideon—even when he deliberately provoked them by donning his exaggerated flame disguise—they were out. Despite Daniel’s continued obtuseness, she didn’t want him to be that kind of guy.

Daniel smiled, a glint in his eye that spoke of amusement, not disgust, and held out his hand. “Daniel Shawn.”

“Gideon Wallace. I’m sure Charles has mentioned me.”

“As a matter of fact, no.”

Gideon turned to her in mock outrage. “I’m crushed. Are you hiding me, darling? Ashamed of our love?”

She couldn’t prevent a grin. “Shut up, idiot. Believe it or not, the subject hasn’t come up.”

“Well, we’d best remedy that. I’m the other roommate. The good-looking one.”

The waiter materialized next to the table, another menu in his hand. “A third for dinner?”

“No,” Charlie said at the same time Gideon said, “Yes.”

Daniel grinned. “Why not?”

“I’ll have the seafood risotto, my pet, and a glass of the Semillon.”

“You’ve got it, G.” He and Gideon shared a smirk. Lord, did all the waiters in Portland know Gideon? “How about the two of you?”

Charlie winced. She still hadn’t read the menu. “I’ll have…um…the same. Except, you know, not the wine because…” She picked up her glass, the fruity aroma heady enough to intoxicate on its own. Better not indulge. She was already functionally impaired by Daniel’s proximity. She set the glass down again.

“The rib eye for me.” Daniel collected Charlie’s discarded menu and handed it back, along with his own.

Gideon waited until the waiter retreated before wiggling his butt in his chair, scooting closer Daniel. “So tell me, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Devastating, what’s a bad boy like you doing in a place like this?”

Daniel’s eyes widened, and his head drew back as if Gideon had threatened him with his salad fork. “Who says I’m bad?”

“Please,” Gideon scoffed. “An unattached man of your age who looks like you? You’re either gay, sociopathic, or bad, aka commitment-averse. I can tell you’re not gay, more’s the pity. As I understand, you groveled nicely last night after dickhead behavior, so not sociopathic. Hence, bad.” He leaned his chin on his fingers. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong.” Daniel held up his wineglass in an air toast and took a sip.

Gideon pressed one hand over his heart. “You’re gay?”

Daniel laughed. “No, sorry to disappoint.”

“Sociopathic? God, psychopathic?” Gideon turned and clutched Charlie’s arm. “Charles, hide the steak knives or this could turn into a bloodbath worthy of a Grimm season finale.”

“Gideon.” Charlie eyed Daniel, checking for signs of disgust or horror, but his mouth curled in a grin and the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“Maybe I’m just a late bloomer,” Daniel said.

“Hmmmm.” Gideon tapped his chin, eyes narrowing. “I’ll grant you that, conditionally. When was your last relationship?”

“Gideon!” Lord, that awful video. That dreadful woman. No matter what Daniel had done last night or tonight, he didn’t deserve to be reminded of that. But Daniel only chuckled and shook his head.

“Not much to report.” He swirled the wine in his glass and took another sip. “If you want to get technical, my last real relationship was with Charlie.”

Charlie stopped giving Gideon the stink-eye to goggle at Daniel. “Me? Since when?”

“There’s no deeper connection than the one between a boy and his science partner.”

She took a gulp of water to keep from blurting, What about the junior high and high school debacles?

Daniel lifted the napkin covering the bread. “What about you, Gideon? Seems only fair for you to tell us about your last relationship.”

Gideon opened his mouth but Charlie cut in. “If you want to get home before tomorrow morning, don’t get him started.”

“That horrifying?” Daniel asked, offering her the basket.

Charlie didn’t want bread any more than she wanted the wine, but she took a slice anyway, so she’d have something to do with her hands. “That dramatic. And that’s not accounting for sheer volume.”

“Very well, Charles,” Gideon said, snatching a piece of bread, “let’s focus on you.”

She shredded the bread in her hand, scattering crumbs like snowflakes on the red linen napkin in her lap. “Let’s not.”

“Nonsense.” Gideon turned to Daniel. “Did she tell you about Poindexter?”

“Ah…no. She didn’t mention him.” Daniel’s brows pulled together over his nose. “You’re seeing someone named Poindexter?”

“His name is Preston.” Charlie kept an eye on Daniel’s knotted brow, gauging whether an instant replay of last night’s caveman behavior loomed. “I only dated him for a couple of years in undergrad. We broke up when I left for Columbia for my statistics master’s. That’s where I met Toshiko. She sort of followed me home.”

“Yes,” Gideon drawled. “One day we blinked and she was sitting in the living room. I think she may have teleported.”

“Don’t dodge,” Daniel said. “I want to hear more about Poindexter.”

“Preston,” Charlie enunciated, and Daniel smirked, obviously unrepentant. She shrugged. “It wouldn’t have worked long-term anyway. He was procedural. I was object-oriented.”

“You broke up over programming styles?” Daniel’s voice quivered with buried laughter.

“It’s not the style.” Charlie set the mangled remains of her bread on her plate. “It’s the…the mind-set.”

“If you could break up over that, you must not have been in love.”

Charlie wished she could disagree, if only to knock the self-satisfied look off Daniel’s face, but it was true. Love hadn’t been the point. She’d been grateful for a while not to be alone. But in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

“So, Preston, the procedural loser.” Daniel’s voice was a little too nonchalant. “Any other adventures?”

“Yes, Charles. Do tell.”

She glared at Gideon. If only there were such a thing as the Vulcan Death Grip, he’d be face down in his salad plate. “What do you think? I was in the female minority in a computer science program. Most CS majors are better acquainted with their joysticks than their joy sticks.” She froze, gaze darting back to Daniel. “I mean…um…”

She grabbed her wineglass and took a large sip, studying Daniel from under her lashes. He didn’t look shocked. In fact, a grin spread across his face, activating his dimple.

“Don’t stop now. This is good stuff.”

It is? Now that she thought about it, the way she and Daniel used to spar wasn’t so very different from the way she and Gideon did now. And that she definitely knew how to do.

As a result, the rest of dinner passed in what qualified as pleasant chat, although the wine deserved some of the credit for settling her nerves. She had to admit, Daniel had passed all the tests she set for male field study candidates—he hadn’t treated Lindsay like a bimbo, he wasn’t freaked by Toshiko, and he actually seemed to like Gideon. Surely she could cut him the same slack as any other Stage Two man.

“So,” Gideon said over the last bite of his bread pudding, “when are you taking Charles out again?”

“Gideon,” Charlie said, lacing her tone with a warning that promised laptop hacking later.

Daniel dared her with a lift of one eyebrow. “Tomorrow.”

“Now that’s what I like. A masterful man. A decisive man. A man who’s not afraid to fly his alpha flag no matter how politically incorrect.”

“G, don’t you have something else to do? Wash your hair? Go shopping? Take over a small country?”

“Nada, darling. I’m completely at leisure.” He reared back in his chair in exaggerated surprise. “Ooooooohhhh. I get it. I’m in the way. Now, why didn’t you say so?” He stood up, folding his napkin into a tidy rectangle. “I’ll toddle off home.”

Daniel stood up and shook Gideon’s hand. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Yes it was, wasn’t it?” Gideon tossed his bangs out of his eyes and looked up at Daniel. “Say. How’s your Star Trek trivia?”

“Rusty.”

“Excellent!” Gideon squeezed Charlie’s shoulder on his way past her. “Bring him home with you, Charles. Baby needs a new pair of Cole Haan’s.”

Daniel laughed. “You play trivia for money?”

“The highest of stakes, angel-cake. Bring your checkbook.” Gideon looked Daniel up and down. “Although, if you’re strapped for cash, you can elect the strip-trivia option.” He kissed Charlie on the cheek, waved to Daniel and his waiter BFF, and sauntered out the door.

“Is he always this lively?”

“You should see him when he’s caffeinated.” She waited for Gideon to clear the door before she folded her napkin, smoothing the creases with one of her ridiculous nail extensions. All Gideon’s flirting lessons had fled her brain in his wake.

Think. Think. She couldn’t treat Daniel the way she treated Gideon all the time. They’d both perish from the snark. How could she convince him she wasn’t a complete nutcase and get to the next step in the path to her pseudo-Stage Two?

She hadn’t missed the resigned look on Daniel’s face before Gideon showed up. He’d been ready to bail, and she didn’t blame him. Despite being straight, he’d be more likely to date Gideon at this point, if only because Gideon was more fun. On the other hand, Charlie didn’t feel as awkward with a wingman, even one as predictably unpredictable as Gideon. Maybe that was the answer to getting through this month without a meltdown visible from space.

Chasing him away might have been a mistake.

She attempted a smile. “Thank you for dinner. I’m sorry I freaked out on you.”

“Believe me when I say it’s been my pleasure, freak-out or no.”

He stood and held out his hand. She stared at it stupidly until he chuckled and reached down to take hers from where it rested on the edge of the table. She let him draw her to her feet and tried to remember to breathe.

Daniel Shawn, touching her for the first time in forever. Why did it feel so familiar? He’d never really touched her when they were kids, other than the occasional punch on the arm when his mother wasn’t around to scold him about hitting girls. Had she dreamed about this? How pathetic, if it were true. Because Shanna was right. He was out of her league and always had been.

She let her hand slide out of his and turned away, threading through the tables to the front of the restaurant. He placed one hand on the small of her back, his palm a welcome heat through the thin fabric of her ridiculous alleged shirts.

“Hold on, hon.” The waiter stopped them at the threshold. “Don’t forget your roses.”

He held out the vase, its explosion of red nearly obscuring his face, the heavy scent fighting with the aroma of browning butter wafting out of the kitchen. She reached for it, but Daniel stepped forward and intercepted the hand-off.

“I’ll take that.”

“Oh. You don’t have to…” She swallowed hard against the mental image of herself staggering around the streets of Northwest Portland with her entire torso concealed by roses. She’d look like the third-string exotic dancer at a florist’s convention.

On the other hand, the bouquet would cover her cleavage. She wasn’t sure which one was likely to draw more unwanted attention.

“They were my idea. Only fair I pack them out for you. Besides, Dr. Forrester, the polite thing for me to do now is to take you home.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She reached for the flowers. “I only live a few blocks away.”

He shifted them out of her reach, his lips thinned in a parody of his easy after-dinner smile. “I know. I’ve been there, remember?”

Oh no. Despite the difference between the shape of his adult face and his face as a child, his expression was exactly the same as the one he’d worn after he’d waited, so proud and excited, to present his science fair medal to his father, only to have his father toss him a careless That’s nice, kid before disappearing into his den along with a bottle-shaped brown bag.

As if Toshiko stood next to her, lecturing her about the detrimental effects of rejecting a male mating offering, she realized she’d made a colossal error.

He’d been proud of those flowers. He’d taken a risk and she’d robbed him of the reward of satisfaction. She’d hurt him. She had to fix it, and not only because her AGS chances depended on keeping this relationship alive for a month.

Maybe it was time to cut Dickhead Daniel a break.

“I’m sorry.”

He turned back to her, his eyebrows lifting and his lips relaxing. “For what?”

“For spoiling your…you know. The flowers. I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful, I was just…” She gestured helplessly at the restaurant windows.

“It wasn’t what you were expecting.”

“No.” She pushed her hair off her forehead. “Definitely out of scope.”

“I should have remembered. You hate surprises even more than I do. Don’t worry.” He angled his head in the direction of her apartment. “I’ll do better next time.”

Next time. In spite of her epic date fail, he still thought in terms of next time. She wasn’t sure if that counted as a win or if it would end up as the most wretched loss of all.

…

As Daniel hauled his ill-advised mega-bouquet down the street, people driving by slowed down, smiled, and pointed at him. A couple honked and waved. He grinned back, raising the bouquet in salute, glad someone was getting some pleasure out of the damn things.

After the second drive-by, he caught Charlie giving him a sideways look.

“Doesn’t it bother you,” she asked, rising on her toes for a few steps to peer over his shoulder at yet another drive-by petal-peeper, “attracting all this attention from strangers?”

He glanced down at her, eyebrows raised. “Why should it? I have no idea who they are and it’s not like I’ll ever see them again. As long as I’m not provoking road rage or causing a car crash, I’m good.”

“If it were me, I’d be seeking the nearest shrubbery,” she muttered, striding ahead of him.

He caught up with her, and they crossed the street together. “So. You’re Dr. Forrester now. What are you planning to do with all those fancy letters trailing after your name?”

She veered a half step away. “I’m…considering. I don’t want to jump into anything until I’m sure it’s the perfect fit.”

“You still want to work for AGS?”

She stopped, eyes wide, and her hand crept toward her throat. “How…?”

He turned and walked backward, beckoning her to follow. “You made me watch the tape of that documentary a dozen times. More than we watched your favorite Star Trek episodes. My memory may be leakier than a sieve, but you drilled that one into me good.”

“Right.” She shook her head, and silver winked at her earlobes, half hidden by her curls. “Sorry about that.”

He took her hand and drew her along the sidewalk, still walking backward. “Nah. It was good. The way you decided you wanted to change the world made me think it was possible, even for a kid like me. It made a difference.”

“Oh. I…” She laughed and turned around, too, so they were both going backward. “Sometimes I get so lost in the trees, I forget there are other people hiking the same forest.”

He glanced over his shoulder. The intersection with Raleigh was only a few steps away. “You know, if we don’t both want to end up flat on our butts, maybe we should stop looking where we’ve been and face where we’re going.”

She cast a startled glance at him, and her pace faltered. He nearly ditched the roses, vase and all, to steady her, but she hadn’t tripped, just slowed.

“You’re right.” She turned around and took a deep breath. The breeze lifted the curls off her forehead and sent her shirt on an eddy around her hips.

The sight caused a hitch in his chest, but he ordered himself to stand down. “Ahead, warp factor one?”

She tilted her head and whoa. Smile set on stun. “Steady as she goes.”

They strolled down 24th, past Raleigh and Quimby, the light from the streetlamps filtering through the branches of the trees overhanging the sidewalk. He didn’t crowd her exactly, but he walked close enough that her shirt drifted across his forearm like a caress. The first time the backs of his fingers grazed hers, she jolted and jerked her hand away, but the second time, she didn’t flinch.

“This is my favorite time of day.” She lifted her chin to gaze at the pearlescent sky beyond the trees. “Especially at this time of year. You know the sun is still shining in Beaverton and Hillsboro, but on this side of the West Hills, it’s already set. A false twilight. Bonus time. It’s nature’s Easter egg.”

“Like Empire of Light.”

She glanced up at him, eyebrows quirked in inquiry. “Is that a science fiction book? A movie?”

He laughed. “No, Dr. Forrester. It’s a Magritte painting. My favorite. Hangs in the Museum of Modern Art in Manhattan.”

She ducked her head, but the smile that softened her mouth was wistful. “While I was at Columbia, I never made it to any museums or other touristy-type destinations. My amusements consisted of extra classwork so I could finish my degree in half the time.”

“Overachieving as a way of life. You’ve always had it covered.”

“What can I say? My only close friend was Toshiko and, compared to her, I was a do-nothing slacker.” She scuffed one of her open-toed shoes against a stone on the sidewalk. “One of the students I tutored gave me a couple of tickets to the Philharmonic once, but Tosh turned down the chance, and I didn’t want to go alone.”

“Too bad. It’s worth a visit.”

She slanted a glance at him from the frame of her curls, saw him looking, and dropped her gaze to her feet. “You know, I never had a chance to tell you how sorry I was about your dad.”

“You were ten. Not like I made it easy for anyone to get close, either. I shut down. Took a while, but I got through it in the end.” He moved closer to her on his next step. “Did it make it tough for you and your dad when my mom stopped the childcare cold turkey?”

“Not really. He decided I would be okay on my own.” She lowered her eyebrows, mouth turned down in a passable imitation of her dad’s perma-scowl. “Lots of girls your age babysit younger kids all the time. You ought to be able to look after yourself.”

“Christ, you sound just like him.”

“I’ve had lots of time to perfect my impression. He hasn’t changed much.”

“He still live in Beaverton?”

“No. He moved to a seniors-only condo complex in Florida when I was at Columbia. From what I can tell, he’s got about half a dozen widows plying him with food and canasta in the hopes he’ll take the plunge and marry one of them.”

“How’s that working out for them?”

She grinned at him. “How do you think? He says thank you for the food, trounces their butts at cards, and forgets them entirely when he closes the door and sits down with his books.” She stroked one of the roses with a fingertip. “I came by my introversion honestly. Good old-fashioned genetics.”

She stopped on the sidewalk in front of her house. The first floor windows were dark and empty, the lettering announcing the Douglas Travel Agency faded and scratched. The third floor was dark, as well, but the lights from the second floor flat shone from the windows, welcoming in the twilight.

She turned to face him. “Thank you. For dinner. For the flowers. They really are beautiful. I’m sorry I was such a dork about them.” She reached for the vase, and he tucked it more firmly into the crook of his elbow.

“Uh-uh. Personal delivery is included in this service. I’ll take them up.”

“But…” She glanced at the door, tugging on the hem of her shirt. Daniel counted it a personal victory that he kept his gaze on her face. “Okay. Although you may be sorry.”

She led the way upstairs, but before she could pull her keys out of her purse, the apartment door opened. Gideon posed in the doorway, backlit by the glow of the lamps in the living room.

“Halloooo, the tardy diners. Does your presence mean you’ve chosen to accept the trivia challenge?”

Beyond Gideon, Daniel saw Lindsay tucked into the corner of the dark green couch and Toshiko perched in a wingback chair, her spine straighter than the average flagpole.

Daniel raised a hand in greeting. “All the usual suspects, I see.” Lindsay released her hold on a throw pillow and waggled her fingers. Toshiko tilted her head a half inch to the left.

Gideon tugged them into the entryway. “I’m desperate, Charles. Lindsay doesn’t play, Tosh won’t do anything but referee, and the best you and I ever manage is a draw. I need a fresh victim.” He slanted a wicked glance at Daniel from under his bangs. “I mean, a new worthy opponent. What do you say, big boy? You in?”

He grinned and set the vase on the bar. “Absolutely.”

“Excellent. Let the games begin.”