Flash

is unloaded and cleaned."
    Jasper frowned. "You're going to be up all night?"
    She grinned wryly. "Part of the job. I've got one of the cabins downstairs. Assuming there are no major disasters, I'll probably try to nap for a couple of hours after the karaoke bar closes down. With any luck, that will be around three this morning."
    "A couple of hours? Is that all?"
    "I have to be up at five to make sure everything is in place for the farewell breakfast buffet that will be served at eight. And then I have to supervise the disembarkation."
    "Is your schedule always like this?"
    "I'm sometimes up very late because of an event, but most of them don't go overnight and into the next day the way this one does. The good news is that I get to go home and crash after the guests have disembarked. Bolivar and some of the other members of the Light Fantastic staff are going to come on board to handle the cleanup."
    "How long have you been running Light Fantastic?"
    "Almost five years."
    "What did you do before that?"
    "I worked for a couple of different event design and production companies on a freelance basis, learning the ropes."
    "It's a strange business," Jasper said reflectively.
    "I love it. Never a dull moment. Every event is different. Light Fantastic never repeats a production. Uncle Rollie always said it was the perfect career for me because it allows me to combine my creative side with my business side."
    Jasper sipped his cognac thoughtfully. "Rollie told me once that when it came to business, you were as good as he was, just a lot younger."
    "Did he really say that?"
    "Yes."
    "That was sweet of him." Olivia was warmed by the compliment. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that I've got Uncle Rollie's genius for business. But I can make a living with what genes I did get in that department. I'd starve, however, if I had to depend entirely on my creativity genes."
    Jasper raised a brow. "Why do you say that?"
    She shrugged. "I enjoy creative design, and I love putting together ideas for an event, but I'm not a real artist. For me art is a strong interest but not a great passion."
    "What's the difference?"
    "Genius. True talent. Fire in the belly. Whatever you want to call it. I don't have it. At least not for art."
    Jasper watched her intently. "How can you tell?"
    "Because I married someone who did have it." Why was she doing this, she wondered? Had she suddenly developed masochistic tendencies?
    But she knew the answer. Incredible though it was, Jasper had not yet mentioned Logan's name in her presence. The failure to do so made him virtually unique. Sooner or later, most people found a way to bring up the legend of Logan Dane shortly after meeting her. Crawford Lee Wilder had seen to that.
    Olivia realized that she wanted to get beyond that hurdle with Jasper. She wanted him to know just whom he was kissing. Assuming he ever kissed her again.
    "That's right," Jasper snapped his fingers as if suddenly recalling an unimportant scrap of information. "You were married to that artist, weren't you? Logan Dane."
    Olivia took a deep breath. She felt blindsided by his monumentally casual reaction. "You, uh, knew that Logan was my husband?"
    "I read that stupid mix of fact and fiction in
West Coast Neo
. You should have sued Crawford Lee Wilder."
    "It wouldn't have been worth the effort," Olivia said carefully. "The damage had been done."
    "You're probably right. Only the lawyers make out in lawsuits, anyway." His mouth twitched. "You must have scared the hell out of Wilder, though."
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "The guy was obviously intimidated by you. The article was his way of getting even."
    "An interesting analysis."
    "What the hell did you do to him, anyway?"
    "Crawford? Among other things, I dated him for a while when he worked at the
Banner-Journal
."
    "No kidding?" Jasper's chuckle was low, rich, and deep. "Wilder had to bring out the garlic and silver crosses to ward you off after only a few dates? This sounds interesting."
    She eyed him warily. "Interesting?"
    "Very." He met her eyes. "I'm a sucker for interesting."
    "I see."
    "So, will you go out with me? A real date this time, not take-out?"
    She tipped her head to one side and studied him intently. "You're not taking my sordid past real seriously, are you?"
    He looked offended. "I didn't take the Crawford Lee Wilder article seriously, but I'm very serious about the date."
    "Are you?"
    He winced. "So much for the snappy repartee. I've been told that my social skills are a