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"Okay. So, then what happened?"

"We kissed and it felt like I had rubbed my lips against a stone. Nothing. She jotted down some notes in a small notepad and then said we had to do it again and touch the tips of our tongues at the same time."

I started to laugh.

"And?"

"The very idea made me nauseous and I ran out of the room," he confessed and we both laughed.

How much I enjoyed being with him, I thought. He was so uncomplicated, so fresh and new like a real discovery, making it easier to relax, to shut away my fears and tensions and lower my steel wall of defense. Once, I lived in a world where danger lurked in every shadow, where no one could be trusted to be who he claimed to be and more than likely, if someone was nice to you, he had some evil reason smoldering just beneath his candy-coated smile.

"You didn't run out of the room from me when my tongue touched yours," I said, teasing him again.

He turned a little crimson and looked back to see who was nearby. Satisfied he could speak even more freely, he leaned toward me and said, "I bought something while you were browsing with Catherine and Leslie today?'

"What?"

He unfolded his hand.

"Some of these," he said showing me a condom.

Now it was my turn to look embarrassed and utter a small gasp.

"Randall. Put that away," I said, watching the waitress move toward us.

He laughed and did so quickly. The waitress cleared our dishes and asked if we wanted anything else. Neither of us did so she left the bill and walked away. He stared at me, still with that little tight smile on his lips.

"First of all," I began, "that's taking a lot for granted. Who said I would be doing it again with you?"

He looked devastated for a moment and then shrugged. "It's better to be prepared, just in case," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "I don't want to look like an idiot again." He looked up quickly as a new thought crossed his mind. "You're not insulted, are you?"

"I should be," I said, putting on an indignant face. "Oh. I'm sorry. I..."

"But I'm not," I added.

He smiled.

"Which," I continued, "doesn't mean I agree to anything ahead of time."

"Oh, sure. Like I said..."

"I think I had better start for home," I said, catching a glimpse of the clock. "Breakfast is a ritual and a production at Endfield Place."

"Right." He paid the bill and we left the restaurant.

I told him I could get back myself, but he insisted that he escort me home.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," he said as we walked up to the house a little while later.

"What?"

"I'll make some of the calls to the Larry or Lawrence Wards myself. It'll make it easier for you, and if I discover anything important, I'll let you know, okay?" he asked.

I thought about it. Making those calls had splintered my nerves.

"I won't say a thing, of course. I'll just try to locate him for you."

"All right," I agreed quickly.