IT WAS HARD working the rest of the day. I met with Trac-chio for an hour and had Jacobi and Cappy retrace the bars around Berkeley with Hardaway's photo. Every once in a while I felt my mind drifting and my heart beating a little faster when I thought about tonight. But as Joe Molinari had said, we gotta eat.

Later, in the shower at home, inhaling a fresh lavender smell as I rinsed myself clean from the day, a guilty smile spread over my face: Here I am, a glass of Sancerre on the ledge, my skin tingling like a girl on her first date.

I hurried around, straightening up a bit; arranged the bookshelf; checked the bird roasting in the oven; fed Martha; set the table overlooking the bay. Then I realized I still hadn't heard from Jill. This was crazy. Still in my towel and wet hair, I placed another call to her. "This is getting ridiculous. C'mon, get back to me. I need to know how you are...."

I was about to call Claire to see if she had heard from Jill when the buzzer rang.

The front door buzzer!

Shit, it's only 7:45.

Molinari was early.

I threw another towel around my hair and frantically hopped around - dimming lights, taking out another wine-glass. I finally went to the front door. "Who's there?"

"Advance team for Homeland Security," Molinari called.

"Yeah, well, you're early, Homeland Security. Anyone ever tell you about buzzing up from the outside door?"

"We generally bypass those things."

"Look, I'm gonna let you in, but you can't look." I couldn't believe I was standing there in my towel. "I'm opening the door."

"My eyes are closed."

"They'd better be." Martha came up beside me. "I've got a dog who's very protective of me...."

I unlocked the door, opened it slowly.

Molinari stood there, his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder. A bouquet of daffodils. Eyes wide open.

"You promised." I took a step back, blushing.

&............