Starry Night

evening.”
    “Will there be lots of men around?”
    “Tons.”
    He grumbled again in the same vague way he had earlier.
    “Are you jealous?”
    “Should I be?”
    Carrie smiled. “That depends. If you’re intimidated by clean-shaven, handsome men in slick black suits who hardly know which end of a car has the gas tank, then be my guest.”
    “Guess I’m in the clear after all.”
    “I’d say so,” she agreed.
    “What time will you be home?”
    Carrie wished she could give him a definite time. “Can’t say. Hopefully before eleven, but I can never predict how long these events will last.”
    “Which is one reason you dislike this society-page reporting as much as you do.”
    “You could say that.” She clung to the phone, not wanting to end the call, even if the cost was exorbitant. “How did you get my number?”
    “Not much of an investigative reporter if you need to ask that. I called the newspaper and asked to be connected to the society-page editor.”
    “Of course.” Plainly, she wasn’t thinking clearly. It came to her then the real reason behind his call. As much as she wanted to believe it was because he couldn’t live without hearing the sound of her voice, she knew otherwise. “You called because you want to know if I’ve reached a decision, didn’t you?”
    He didn’t answer right away. “It’s more than that, I …”
    “I know what I’m going to do.”
    The line went still and silent. “And what did you decide?”
    “Rest easy, Dr. Livingston, your secrets are safe with me.”
    “Doctor who?”
    “Livingston. All the world was on a search to find him, too, if you remember.”
    “Oh, right.”
    “You could email me.”
    “What’s your email address?”
    She gave him her private email address, unwilling to risk someone from the office stumbling upon their communication.
    “I should go,” he said.
    “I know.” As much as she wanted to talk to him, someone might overhear and connect the dots. Lowering her voice, she added, “Call me tonight, okay?” It probably wasn’t smart to let him know how eager she was to hearfrom him again, but she couldn’t stop herself. She was falling for this guy. And falling hard.
    “Okay. Eleven your time, eight mine.”
    “Perfect.” No matter what, she intended to leave the art show in plenty of time to be home for Finn’s call.
    Somehow Carrie got through the evening, smiling at all the right times, taking down names, and making the most of the event for the following day’s newspaper. Harry, the staff photographer, glanced her way suspiciously a couple of times.
    “What’s up?” he asked, as they hurriedly walked toward the parking garage. She still had to write the story and get it in before the press deadline.
    “What do you mean?” She played innocent, although she was practically trotting in her eagerness to escape.
    “I’ve never seen you in such an all-fired hurry like this. You meeting someone later?”
    “No,” she said, in complete honesty.
    Harry shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
    Carrie arrived back at her condo fifteen minutes early. She kicked off her shoes, wiggled out of her dress, shimmied out of her pantyhose, and grabbed her warmest pjs. She tossed back the covers to her bed, climbed in, and sat cross-leggedwith her cell phone clasped in her hand, waiting for Finn’s call.
    Twice she caught herself falling asleep, so when the phone rang, it surprised her and she nearly dropped it.
    “Hi,” she said, and knew she sounded breathless. “You’re right on time.”
    “Hi, yourself.”
    Right away she noticed that the call had a different sound to it. “Where are you?” she asked.
    “Fairbanks. I figured it would make talking to you a whole lot more convenient.”
    “That explains why you sound as if you’re in the next room instead of outer space.”
    “The first call did come from outer space.”
    She grinned. “Exactly.”
    “So how did the art show opening go?”
    “Harry was suspicious.”
    “Who’s Harry?”
    He sounded worried, which thrilled her. “The staff photographer, who’s at least fifty and has a half-dozen kids.”
    “What do you mean he was suspicious?”
    This was a bit more difficult to explain. “He could tell I couldn’t wait to get out of the show; I kept glancing at my watch.”
    “Maybe it would be better if we emailed.”
    She thought about that for a moment. “You’re probably right.”
    “We won’t need to worry about the time difference,