The warm glow in AJ's eyes held Dana tighter than a shackle and should have prelude to an embrace. But it wasn't. Instead, his words hung between them, thick as a heavy fog. She could see the glow fade as his pronouncement brought no response.

Finally she stammered, "Wha. . .what are you saying AJ?" If the impossible had happened and he had fallen in love with her, Dana needed to hear the words.

"I'm saying that you're very dear to me and that I intend to marry you." He gave her a perfunctory, unsatisfying peck on the forehead. "But you're obviously aren't ready to say 'yes'. Okay, then, I'll simply have to be patient." He looped an arm around her and walked her out of the room, to the door of her suite. "As I recall, you have a early meeting tomorrow. So off to bed, sweetheart," he said in his best Bogart voice.

Such a narrow escape from AJ's compelling presence and one which Dana accepted gladly. Once she was alone, however, she regretted her inaction. She had so many questions, questions which were now churning inside of her. AJ had said she was "very dear" to him. What precisely did that mean? His family and his dog – if he had one – were probably very dear to him, too. According to AJ's own statement, he'd never experienced love. Was he trying to tell her that had changed? Through dubious, Dana couldn't resist hoping that perhaps. . .

Her appointment calendar called for a morning inspection of a new interdenominational chapel near Rice University. Dana was relieved AJ was not up when she ventured out; she needed more time to sort out what was happening between them. Now she'd have the entire trip to mull over his startling disclosures and decide what she wanted to say when she saw him again.

On the drive to the chapel and home, Dana reflected and fretted, fretted and reflected. One part of her, that foolishly susceptible part, craved hearing more of AJ's endearments. Then the cautious Dana would take over to advise her that she might be overreacting to a bit of impromptu sweet talk, warning that, in all likelihood, she was little more than a brief diversion for a man in crisis. A child could see that they were as different as catfish and caviar. The AJ McLeans of this world didn't fall in love with the Dana Evanses. Did they. . .?

The rude blast of a horn from the car behind jolted her to the present. The light was green. She needed to get home and talk to AJ.

Dana dashed into the house – not ready to agree to the elopement, but anxious to hear him out. She almost stumbled on a set of suitcases piled by the front door. AJ was leaning over the dining table writing out a check.

"What's going on?" she asked, trying to mask her confusion and disappointment.

He pulled a jacket off the back of a chair, slinging it over his shoulder. "An emergency in L.A. Kevin sounded frantic on the phone when he called earlier. I got to go and see what this is all about."

"What about the press?"

"I'd have to face the music eventually."

"But it's only been a few days. Are you certain–"

AJ laughed. "Is this Dana Evans I'm hearing? What a turn-around. All those harangues to get me to go away and now when I'm leaving, you're objecting. Sounds as through you'll miss me."

"In your dreams," Dana retorted, tamping down her hurt. If she hadn't happened to come home when she did, AJ would have been long gone with only a personal check as a reminder he'd even been there. What a sap she'd been, spending all morning speculating about a potential future with him. There would be no future.

"Oh, you'll be in my dreams, all right, pretty Dana," he shot back. The doorbell pealed. "That's my driver." He tore off the check and handed it to her. "For any expenses that my deposit didn't cover."

When she refused to take it, AJ shrugged and dropped the check onto the table. "While I'm in L.A. you can do some more thinking about Las Vegas. I'll call when I get home." The bell sounded again and AJ pulled her to him for a quick, but thorough kiss. Then he rushed out.

Sprawled on the seat of his limousine, AJ couldn't shake the feeling he'd made a strategical error by leaving so abruptly. It troubled him. Yet he'd had little choice. The situation in L.A. needed immediate attention from him.

Having slept sporadically, AJ was tired. His discussion with Dana had lingered in his mind. As he reclined against the seat cushion and closed his eyes, making him even more restive. Dozing was useless. He pulled out his cell phone and called Howie, adamantly denying to himself that his attachment to Dana Evans was anything other than a creative solution to a sticky dilemma.

Once alone, Dana stared openmouthed at the check AJ had left for the extra nights' lodging and meals. Even without the deposit, the amount was excessive, kindling her anxiety that she was nothing more than another business transaction for AJ. He apparently thought he could buy anything – including her.

She glanced at the figures again. A week in a suite at Warwick wouldn't cost this much, but then maybe he felt he owed her an amusement tax. His amusement, not hers. Dana was consumed with righteous indignation. How dare he trifle with her affections, then run off to some so-called emergency while leaving her a "tip."

She wished she had the courage to read him the riot act and how he'd wasted her time with nonsensical proposals and pretty words, playing mind games with other people's minds – specifically hers. Someone needed to inform AJ McLean that sports of this kind were dangerous and victimizing.

AJ had mentioned the elopement again before he left. So the proposal wasn't just a game, or if it was, one that he was playing out to the bitter end. But his motivations confused her more then ever. Less then a week ago, he was to marry Sarah. No minor detail, that, to be swept like dirt under the rug. If he was even halfway sincere in his proposal to Dana, then there must be a hidden agenda at work. She had no inkling what to think or feel. All she knew was, to paraphrase the old song, "bothered and bewildered."

She should comfort in the fact AJ was out of her life – at least temporarily – and concentrate on rebuilding her business without distractions. But it no longer seemed as simple as that. Dana felt empty, abandoned.

Using manual labor as a diversion, she allotted the afternoon to turning out the Hearts and Flowers Suite AJ had occupied. Dana employed a cleaning crew, but had canceled it in order to save money. Still, this was a job she liked to do, restoring the suite to its pristine condition after a guest had departed.

She'd taken satisfaction in securing the perfect furnishings for the room and the satisfaction was renewed each time she stepped crossed the threshold. She loved polishing the nineteenth-century dresser and fluffing the comforter and downy pillows.

Today the cleaning depressed her. The suite seemed barren. As she removed the sheets from the mahogany four-poster, Dana couldn't dismiss AJ's lingering essence. Her chores were supposed to be a balm to her troubled spirit, but they weren't helping.

Be careful what you wish for. After all those days wanting AJ out of her hair, now she was miserable without him. Forget AJ McLean and keep working. There were a dozen weddings still left on the schedule, including one this weekend. Plenty to do.

The ringing of the portable telephone she'd left in the bathroom jarred her, hoping it was AJ, Dana ran for it, stubbing her toes on the four-poster in her haste.

As she gave a frosty "not interested" to the telephone solicitor and slipped off her sandal, she chastised herself for responding as she'd done. Her reaction had to be nothing less then that of a frenzied teenager madly sprinting to a call because it might be from "him" – Mr. Wonderful finally making his move.

Dana had never been like this before. Her toe sent a throbbing clue to just how mindlessly she'd been behaving. Her snappy schoolgirl era had ran its course and must come to an end. She wasn't going to spend one more second agonizing about AJ McLean. The man had caused her nothing but grief. Now it was over. Finished.

Limping to her office, Dana decided to answer some correspondence, something she could accomplish with an elevated foot. The toe was swelling and she had to pamper it. She couldn't afford to be hobbling around. Not now.

The therapy was paying off and the throbbing abating somewhat when the phone rang again. Fortunately the telephone was right at her elbow – no danger of her acting like an idiot and hurting herself to boot. It was a business call and the message was more of the same – a cancellation. At least the bride was apologetic. "I'm sorry, but our friends are ribbing us so much about getting married at Torrence Place that I'm afraid it would ruin everything. My fiancé's mother doesn't have a sense of humor. I know we should laugh about it, but–"

"I understand," Dana tried to reassure the young woman. "Your wedding should be perfect. That's what you want and that's what I want for you. I can arrange another site if you'd like." Dana had been told, "We'll let you know." In her heart she knew she'd never hear from the couple again.

Now there were only eleven weddings left. Barely enough to support her and Torrence Place. Ironically, those same eleven would also interfere with her seeking another job. Few employers would deign to work around her erratic calendar. Increased business for "Arrangements by Dana" was the only track for her, and would take a while to bear fruit. If push came to shove, she'd just have to try for another loan – and beg the bank officer for mercy this go-round.

Of course, instead of a loan, she could cash AJ's check. Sufficient money there to cover short-term losses. But money she would never touch. To do so would be the same as being bought. And if she was willing to be bought, she might as well as go whole hog and accept AJ's proposal.

Despite her decision to cast it and him out of her thoughts, the absurd proposal kept popping into her thoughts, her pulse running amok whenever she considered the possibility. I'm glad he's gone. Truly I am. If she said it often enough, maybe one day Dana would convince herself. Then this reckless infatuation would stop.

Unfortunately, the AJ McLean assault on her senses continued when Dana switched on the television that evening. At the tail end of the six o'clock news was a shot of him at Hobby airport. "Backstreet Boy AJ McLean was spotted this afternoon with accountant Melissa Meirs ready to board the private jet. When asked who or what was responsible for his recently canceled nuptials, AJ merely smiled. Some wonder if the attractive Ms. Meirs could be a contributing factor."

"Another woman?" Dana barked at the television set as she snapped it off. She felt more dismayed than ever.

A large vase of flowers arrived the next day. The blossoms were lovely, a mixture of colorful spring blooms, just the sort she favored. But the flowers didn't improve Dana's uncharitable disposition, nor did the enclosed card reading: "Thinking of you. Alex." I'll just bet. For five minutes maybe.

Chapter 12
Chapter 10
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