Trust Me

accident?” he asked. Wry amusement lit his eyes.
    Desdemona grimaced. “I’m a coward at heart. Can’t stand the sight of blood.”
    “I don’t blame you.” Dane glanced across the crowded room. “It was bound to happen sooner or later, though. They couldn’t avoid running into each other forever.”
    “That’s what Miss Bedford said.” Desdemona followed his gaze, but she was not tall enough to see over the heads of the guests.
    “It was Pamela’s idea, I suspect.”
    “What? To force a meeting tonight? Yes, I think so,” Desdemona agreed.
    “Christ knows, Stark wouldn’t have bothered. He sees things the same way a computer does. On or off. When something is finished, it’s finished. Especially a relationship.”
    Desdemona studied Dane thoughtfully. She had seen him at the cancelled wedding and spoken to him briefly at the cocktail party Right Touch had staged for Stark, but she did not know him well. The only thing she really knew about him was that he was one of the few people Stark considered a friend.
    He was taller than Stark, about the same height as Tony. He was built along the same lines as Tony and the Wainwright men in general, a lean, graceful man with long fingers and patrician features. By any traditional standard he was definitely better-looking than Stark, but Desdemona was unimpressed by that fact. She discovered to her surprise that she had developed an odd and totally unaccountable taste for men who were fashioned like sturdy medieval warriors.
    “Running into each other tonight must be awkward for both of them,” Desdemona said.
    Dane smiled briefly. “I’m sure it is for Pamela, but I doubt that Stark’s having much of a problem with it, at least no more of a problem than he generally has in social situations.”
    “I’m sure it’s every bit as hard on him.” Desdemona tried to peer through the crowd to see what was happening near the buffet table. “I just hope he doesn’t cause a scene.”
    Dane chuckled. “Don’t worry, he won’t make a scene tonight. He’s not the kind to explode in public. I’ve never even seen Stark explode in private, for that matter. He never gets very emotional about anything. Not his way.”
    Desdemona frowned. “She did stand him up at the altar.”
    “Trust me, from that moment on, he wrote her off as a mistake. As far as he was concerned, she became just another blip on his computer screen. A temporary glitch.”
    “You talk as though he’s a computer or something.”
    “A lot of people think he is,” Dane said simply.
    “That’s crazy. Stark has emotions just like everyone else. He hides them well, that’s all.”
    “I’ve known him a lot longer than you have, Desdemona. His detachment is real enough. And I’ll let you in on a little secret. I almost envy him at times.”
    “That’s ridiculous. Please excuse me.” Desdemona turned on her heel and marched toward the open doors.
    It was a relief to escape the noisy, crowded ballroom. Desdemona hurried down the carpeted hall toward the rest rooms. She wondered how long she should give Stark and Pamela together before she returned to reclaim her client.
    Then she wondered what she would do if Stark was not eager to be reclaimed.
    Perhaps Pamela Bedford was having second thoughts about walking out on the relationship.
    Desdemona pushed open the rest room door and stepped inside. A quick glance around told her that she had the place to herself. She heaved a sigh of relief and sat down on one of the velvet-covered stools in front of the mirror.
    She contemplated her image for a long moment. The Wainwright intuition blazed in her wide, shadowed eyes.
    “Damn, I’ve fallen in love with him.”
    The words were a soft whisper in the empty room.
    Not nearly enough presence, considering the momentous nature of the occasion.
    Desdemona leaped to her feet and slapped her hands down on the counter. She leaned very close to the mirror.
    “I’ve fallen in love with him.”
    The words rang out loudly, bouncing off the walls and echoing down the row of empty stalls.
    Much better. A bit more of Richard III defying all to seize his own fatal destiny.
    “This is impossible,” Desdemona said to the woman in the mirror. “Okay, I’m attracted to him. But I can’t possibly be in love with him. He’s my exact opposite. McCallum may be right. Stark may not be able to love anything except another logic circuit. The family is right, too. Stark’s not even theater people, for God’s