David tried to look like Clayton Berger looking sheepish. 'I didn't think I was being so transparent.'
She considered him, then said, 'You want me there to help you.'
He fell back in his chair. 'What can I say? Machiavelli I'm not.'
'Who asked you to be?'
David crumpled his napkin and threw it on the table. 'Do you want dessert? I don't.'
'Yes,' she said. 'The citrus tart, thank you.'
She drove him back to his hotel with the sunroof open, making him a gift of the stars. Properly impressed he rode the distance gazing up at them. He had said enough.
'You're quiet,' Marion commented as they entered the city. 'No more persuasion?'
The Southern Cross was rising. 'It's your life.' He said it quietly.
Instead of dropping him off she pulled to a halt outside the hotel, disregarding other
