A tentative knock sounded at the door of the small one room apartment behind him. Startled, he half-turned from the balcony rail to stare narrow-eyed at the unpainted wooden door across the room, not willing to exert the effort to move from his comfortable perch just to open his door to the obviously misguided individual standing outside who, in the next second, would realize his mistake when he took a good look at the capsized metal numbers loosely tacked to the door and quickly move on. Several seconds passed without further summons, and with a dismissive shrug, Reno turned back to his lazy surveillance of the street, lifting the mostly burned down cigarette to his lips for a last drag. Indolent green eyes found and followed a young couple passing along the sidewalk below, their voices raised in querulous conversation. He released a long exhalation of smoke as he concentrated on sorting out their words from the ambient street sounds around. The knock at the door came again, this time firmer, almost imperiously so, and definitely more demanding.

Frowning deeply at the intrusive distraction from his eavesdropping, he flicked the cigarette butt over the rail and straightened up. He gave the offensive door a baleful look over his shoulder before turning to saunter through the open balcony door on bare feet. Reno knew whoever was out there wasn’t looking for him, and he meant to dispatch them in short order and get back to his business. He wasn’t expecting anyone. No hot dates. Didn’t have so many of those anymore. He’d lost his touch somewhere along the way. Or maybe just his motivation. No pizza deliveries. He’d spent his last gil on a carton of cigarettes, opting for nicotine over calories, something he found himself doing too often of late. Now that he thought about it, he really couldn’t remember the last person who had knocked at his door. His neighbor usually banged on the wall to get his attention. And the landlord came sometimes when he was late on rent, but the lazy bastard wouldn’t come at this hour.

He had to admit that his life had become pretty uneventful and barren of late. Eight dull endless hours at work. Trips to the café and the liquor store when he had gil. Then a few hours overflowing an ashtray with spent butts while watching TV shows that didn’t truly interest him on the small TV he’d inherited with the apartment. Followed by a shower in the cramped shower stall and one last smoke. And then he’d fall into the sagging bed and drag the covers over his head to seek the only refuge he had left. His dreams…

As a matter of fact, he’d already crashed for the night, despite it being Saturday night. But after tossing and turning for an hour, he’d reached the conclusion that he obviously needed yet another last smoke. So he’d snatched up his cigarettes and lighter from the scarred wooden top of the bedside table and purposefully headed for the balcony and the night air, until he’d remembered his discarded jeans he’d left crumpled on the woven rug beside the bed and had paused to drag them on before going out. After all, he hadn’t wanted to startle any passersby with his nakedness. He suddenly envisioned some gray headed martinet school teacher on her way home from late night bingo staring up at him in shock with her blocky jaw on the pavement. The image made him smile wickedly. He was still smiling just that way when he yanked open the door.

Elena Yvonne Taylor-Martin stood in the dingy hallway with an expression caught somewhere between wariness, eager anticipation and impatience, and when the occupant of the apartment behind the door finally appeared, she instantly opened her mouth to speak. But the second her brain truly registered the sight of the man framed in the open doorway, the words she’d meant to say, the ones she’d practiced so diligently throughout her long walk, promptly fled from her tongue, along with every coherent thought in her head, and her mouth froze there in that open, slack jawed position. Her hazel eyes, which had darkened to deep pools in the dimly lit hallway, ran from the jaunty grin to the loosened flame red hair that fell around his wide shoulders, one long silky strand of which she followed with fascination to the precise spot where the ends feathered against his bare chest, only to find, just there, a single tiny gold hoop fastened in his left nipple. She worked hard to force her captivated eyes past that unexpected discovery to travel helplessly on to the unsnapped, half-zipped jeans that hung on his lean hips, after which she traced the length of his long denim clad legs to his bare feet, where she vacantly stared until she abruptly regained the presence of mind to jerk her gaze all the way back up to a pair of glittering green eyes and a thin-lipped smile. Fighting a debilitating sense of faintness, she swallowed hard past a suddenly dry throat as she mentally labored to get so much as a simple greeting to form on her tongue, the whole while fighting the urge to press her hand against her racing heart. She had to admit that the intelligence she’d gathered had been accurate. She’d surely found the right apartment, but now she was wondering again why she’d come. Heavens knew she would never hear the end of it if her father found her out.

At his instant recognition of her, a jolt of surprise had flashed through Reno’s whole body; freezing his muscles to immobility and wiping his face momentarily clean of all expression. Then he’d given his head a little shake as though to clear away the fog of what had to be a dream, and determining himself quite awake as she obviously still stood there, unwilling to be dispelled, he’d swiftly recovered his equilibrium and hidden his reaction away by the time she’d completed her enraptured inventory of his body and their eyes finally met, the blank expression of shock on his face replaced by bemusement, the wonder in hers supplanted by wariness. Moving languorously, Reno came closer to her, stepping into the doorway to prop a hand high up on the doorframe as he peered with interest down into her upturned face. She didn’t miss the fact that he’d effectively blocked her path into the apartment, as well as her view.

“Well, hi Elena,” he addressed her in that familiar silky voice she’d almost lost from her memories. “Long time no see.”

She nodded in silent agreement, and struggled to find her voice. “Hello, Reno…” she replied a bit weakly. “It has been a long time…” That hadn’t been what she’d meant to say at all.

“Did you come just to see little ole me?” He rounded his green eyes and lifted his brows high in exaggerated expression of his amazement at the very idea.

Elena stiffened her strangely rubbery knees and managed a curt nod. “Um…yes…I was in town…and I…heard you were staying here, so I thought I’d drop by.” Sure she’d just dropped by. At midnight. After slipping away from the hotel and walking thirteen blocks. He could probably see right through her thinly veiled deception, and he was probably laughing it up inside. Especially since she’d probably come at an inopportune time. Elena inquisitively tilted her head and shifted her weight to one foot in an attempt to see around him into a room lit only by the glow of the streetlights through the windows. She recognized by his behavior that he probably wasn’t alone, and she really should have known. She mentally chastised herself for not waiting until tomorrow as she’d first planned. She’d been a fool to come to this part of town at this late hour. Insane to seek him out now. Why had the need to see him seemed so urgent? She should just make her apologies and go. Before she was forced to lay eyes on whatever woman he’d dragged home this time.

Reno abruptly dropped his hand from the doorjamb, and with an economic flip of his fingers, he hit the switch beside the doorway to flood the shadowy room with light. Then he turned away, leaving the door ajar behind him. “Well come on in, ‘Lena,” he invited cheerfully from within. “Don’t let the mold and mildew grow over your pretty shoes.”

Elena stood motionless in the hallway for a moment as the thought of turning and running flickered through her mind, but in the end she simply stepped into the room and shut the door behind her, intensely curious eyes making a cursory note of the empty bed before embarking on a tour of keen appraisal, skimming the small confines of the room as she stood uneasily in place.

And a pitiful room it was. Small and crammed full of old mismatched furniture. Starkly illuminated by a light from a single bare bulb overhead. A rickety looking chest of drawers with an old television on top and clothes straggling out of the drawers stood against the wall just inside the door. A single worn and faded wingback chair that she speculated might once have been red occupied the middle of the open area of the room with an overturned wooden crate beside it that appeared to serve as a table for the overflowing metal ashtray and a battalion of empty beer bottles. Most likely the staple of Reno’s diet, she surmised. The abused pages of a discarded Junon newspaper were strewn across the unvarnished wooden floor at the foot of the chair, and a pair of rumpled brown slacks, a tan uniform shirt and a cap had been tossed haphazardly onto one threadbare arm. On the other side of the dresser, a narrow door opened into another room that Elena could easily speculate to be the bathroom. She listened with half an ear for any sound or movement from that quarter, still hanging on to her suspicion that Reno wasn’t alone, if barely. Along the wall on the opposite side of the door, a cabinet with its doors missing held an empty sink and a pristinely clean electric cooking plate on its countertop. On the shelves beneath, her questing eyes discovered a couple of stray cans of what appeared to be stew, an open box of crackers, a mess of snaky water pipes and little else. Beyond that, the balcony door stood open, gauzy and stained curtains that hung from a bent curtain rod over the door drifting into the room on the warm night breeze. She skipped her eyes past the tall lanky man that seemed overly large in the small space to the piece of furniture just behind him, a saggy bed that seemed to take up nearly a third of the square footage in the dingy room, incongruously bracketed by tarnished but intricately designed brass head and foot panels. The mattress, covered by a rumpled sheet, lay bared to her gaze, and a loosely tangled pile comprised of a thin blanket and a mismatched top sheet snaked along the juncture of bed and wall as though the occupant had left in a hurry, flinging the covers aside in haste.

With arms folded across his bare chest, Reno raptly watched her face as she inspected his humble abode, and he half expected, even anticipated, the wrinkle of her pert little nose in disgusted reaction. He found himself a bit disappointed when she merely turned an unfathomable gaze in his direction.

“Sorry about the mess,” he felt compelled to say in the well of her silence, although he did so without a hint of apology in his voice. “I might have cleaned up a little, if I’d known you were coming.” He lifted his eyebrows in question then, expressing only a hint of his rampant curiosity at her unexpected visit and the reason behind it, but she declined to clarify, merely studying him as though he were a bug on a pin.

Reno shrugged an indifference designed to hide his suddenly taut nerves, and he abruptly fell back onto the bed behind him and lazily stretched out, folding his arms behind his head and crossing his legs at the ankle to present an image of relaxed nonchalance. With green eyes narrowed in speculation, he turned his head to regard the elegant woman standing in the middle of his crappy little apartment with her dainty white high-heeled pumps planted on his faded woven rug, making the place look ten times crappier by her simple presence, and he initiated a more careful appraisal of her appearance as her discomfited gaze skated away from him.

Her blonde hair had grown several inches since he’d seen her last, the sleekly straight tresses in back falling down past her shoulders and the long, softly curving bangs in front feathering against the delicate line of her jaw. She’d acquired quite a tan too, giving her skin a tawny glow. Hanging around in Costa del Sol would do that to a person, he supposed. Some people anyway. He tended to just turn red and then peel. One reason he stayed away from that hot place. Plus the fact that he never could manage to save up enough money for the fare to get there no matter how many times the thought of going there teased his thoughts. Her white dress set the tan off nicely. An amazing dress really, with an off the shoulder neckline that accentuated her delicate bone structure and slender neck and caressed the curves of her body like a glove until it flared out at her hip into a full skirt that draped softly against the curve of her calves. He couldn’t help but notice the chunky set of gold earrings and the matching choker she was wearing. Both looked to be expensive, along with the delicate looking watch she wore on her wrist and the huge diamond ring on her left hand. The last item dispelled any self-centered notions from his mind that she might have dressed that way for him. He imagined that she’d just come from some fancy dinner party or maybe from the new theater down on the main thoroughfare, one geared to draw in the more moneyed and well-dressed patrons of Junon society.

“Looks like you’ve been doing well for yourself back home, Elena,” he remarked slyly. “Cruise business must be good.”

Elena shrugged noncommittally. “I guess so. It’s not the most exciting career in the world.” She nervously swept a hand through her hair, and half-turned in place to shoot a glance back at the door, looking for all the world like she might take flight.

“You can sit down you know,” Reno coolly suggested. “Stay awhile.”

She brought an uneasy gaze back to the lithe long-limbed form stretched out on the bed, careful to avoid the potential trap of his lively green eyes, and she hesitantly shook her head, folding her arms defensively around her waist as she shifted from one foot to the other. “Thank you, but…I’ll just stand,” she replied nervously. “I have to go…in a minute or too…they’re waiting for me…” She shot a look back over her shoulder as though ‘they’ were standing just behind her, fuming with impatience.

“I see…” Reno said knowingly. He wasn’t stupid. She’d come here looking for something. He couldn’t imagine what. But whatever it had been, she hadn’t found it. That hardly surprised him. There wasn’t much here to offer a beautiful and wealthy woman like Elena Taylor-Martin.

At that moment, Elena silently acknowledged that she’d been a fool to come. And it was past time to go. Back to the hotel and back to the party that she had no doubt would still be in full swing. Her absence had probably already been noticed. And Reno…clearly he was alone after all, and although she had hoped that would be the case, that fact now made her somewhat anxious, and oddly, a little sad. For that matter, the whole situation she’d found him in made her heart ache. Whatever she had expected to feel when she saw him, it hadn’t been this…this odd mixture of sorrow and…longing… Abruptly, her head came up, implacable eyes finally sliding to his watchful face. She clasped her hands together in front of her to still her trembling fingers, a movement that drew his eyes inexorably back to the glittering diamond adorning her ring finger. He stared at the stone as though mesmerized.

“I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you, Reno.” The tenseness of her voice and the stilted words revealed the nervousness beneath her polite words and genteel manner. “I simply didn’t realize the lateness of the hour. I’ll go and let you retire for the evening. Perhaps we could meet…somewhere…” Anywhere but here would be good… “…Tomorrow or…maybe…another…time…” Her words faltered to nothing at the mischievous smile that came to his lips. He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one arm, tilting his head in a bemused study of her face, a move that made his silky red hair slip down over his shoulder and across one scarred cheekbone.

“Come on, Leney,” he softly bade. “You don’t really want to go, do you? The night is still young. We could party…you and me.”

She found herself suffering a curious paucity of breath at the promise in his impish green eyes, and she discovered the prospect inexorably compelling, but she knew he was just teasing her, trying to get a rise out of her, no doubt expecting some heated comeback from her that she didn’t have the will to give him. “Don’t be silly…” she chided him in a strained voice, her gaze falling to the braided rug beneath her shoes.

Reno abruptly rolled onto his back again, flopping his arms across his flat stomach as he turned his eyes to the flyspecked ceiling and drew one leg up. “So…when’s the wedding?” he coolly asked in a marked change of subject and mood.

“W…why do you ask that?” Her eyes shot to his unsmiling face in surprise. How did he know? No announcements had been published in the papers yet.

“A pricy rock like the one on your hand usually signifies upcoming nuptials,” he reminded her in a voice suddenly gone weary.

Elena stretched out her hand to peer down almost guiltily at the ring. She’d actually forgotten it was there. “Um…I guess it would…” Of course, he would have noticed. Whatever he was doing now, he used to be the Leader of the Turks. And she well knew that he was a man that made note of every single thing around him, no matter how seemingly insignificant, even though he often exhibited marked disinterest when doing so, and in her case, he’d certainly been looking her over pretty intently. “We…haven’t decided on a…date…yet…” Admittedly, she’d been particularly unwilling to be pinned down on that matter just yet.

“So…who’s the lucky guy?” he queried in a bored voice.

She tensely lifted her shoulders in a stiff shrug. “His name’s Brad. He’s my father’s assistant.”

“Brad,” Reno repeated sardonically. “Brad and Elena. Elena and Brad. How…sweet…” In an unexpected paroxysm of motion, he rolled over the edge of the bed onto his feet and strode the short distance between them to come to an abrupt halt right in front of her. The spiked heel of one shoe came off the rug as the urge to step away from him nearly overcame her, but she squared her jaw and stood her ground, haughtily lifting her chin beneath his narrow-eyed scrutiny of her face, finally granting him the first true hint of the dearly familiar Elena that he’d once known.

Several moments passed without a word between them until Elena couldn’t take the strain of his unflinching gaze or the close and rather unnerving proximity of his barely clothed body anymore. “What the hell is your problem, Reno?” she snapped in exasperation. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Reno’s green eyes took on a speculative aspect. “Why are you here, Elena?” He couched the question in a tone both soft and vaguely threatening in some way.

“Well…I…I just…wanted to…” What had she wanted? Why did she come? She’d wanted to see him, of course. See how he was doing. But it was more than that too…

Elena did take an unconscious step backward then, but he simply followed.

“Slumming? Is that it?” He spoke in quiet demand.

“No! Of course not!” Surely, he didn’t think that she’d come to laugh at him! She took another step back, and again he came on too, not allowing her to put any air between them.

“A roll in the sack then?” His gaze turned suggestive, his voice husky and taunting.

Her breath left her lungs then, and her words failed her completely. She simply stared into his glittering green eyes, feeling the way a rabbit must when frozen to a false lifelessness beneath the predatory gaze of a wolf crouched to spring, all trembly and helpless inside, with the knowledge that escape lay in flight, but wholly incapable of fleeing.

She drew in a shaky breath and finally managed to tear her eyes away, turning her head to the side to stare through the open balcony doors into the Junon night. “How dare you…” she breathed in a weak semblance of indignation.

Strong fingers closed around her chin and, with gentle pressure, he brought her face back around. She glared up with hazel eyes burning with defiance, although she made no effort to resist his hold. His fingers unconsciously tightened as he gazed down at her with serious intent.

“Do you love him, Elena?” The softness of his tone nearly unhinged her, until the substance of his question sunk in. She snorted in derision. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, asking me that, Reno,” she churlishly replied. “A man who claims not to believe in love…”

Undeterred by the reminder of his own cynical denouncements, Reno pressed closer to her, his bare toes coming into contact with the pointed toe of one pump, the loosened strands of his red hair falling into his face as he bent his head lower. “Does he make your head spin when he kisses you, ‘Lena?” His eyelashes drifted lazily down in his regard of her captivated features. “Does he make your toes curl when he makes love to you?” He curled his bare toes against her shoe as though in illustration. His fingers loosened against her chin to slip against the line of her jaw in a soft caress. “Does he make your knees weak when he touches you?”

Elena forcibly stiffened her muscles against the creeping weakness in her limbs and abruptly flung herself away from him, striding away until she found her progress stymied by the oversized chair. Her thoughts in too much turmoil to realize that she could simply round the recalcitrant piece of furniture and make good her escape, she ground to a stop and grabbed the back of the chair with quaking fingers for support. Her shoulders hunched against the unrelenting green-eyed gaze she imagined she could feel on her back, and as the seconds ticked away in the heavy silence in the room, she dug her nails into the chair so hard that her pristinely manicured nails felt on the verge of breaking.

Reno stood his ground, his gaze indeed unflinchingly focused on her. His eyes softened in their scrutiny, but his voice turned hard. “Does he want you, Elena? Or does he want your money?”

Her head fell forward at the pointed question, and she squeezed her eyes closed against the ugly words, as though if she couldn’t see, she couldn’t hear. But his question couldn’t be unasked. Nor the answer ignored, although she wouldn’t speak it aloud. She should be angry with him for his impudence, but she couldn’t even get mad at him. He had already realized the truth. But then he’d always had a talent for seeing straight through the bullshit. How could she admit to him that she planned to marry a man that viewed her as a cash cow? A man her father had urged upon her. How could she put words to the fact that she had reached a compromise with herself because she was tired of being lonely? And because she was sick of fighting? As it turned out, she didn’t have to reply. He found his answer in her unresponsive and dejected stance.

“You deserve better than that.” He remarked flatly and spun away, putting his back to her to walk back out to the balcony.

Elena drew in a long steadying breath and forced her fingers to release the chair. Again, she reasoned that it was time to leave, but instead she turned to seek him out, and found him leaning against the balcony railing outside. Hesitantly, she followed in his footsteps, pausing between the twin wings of weathered wood and smudged glass panels of the balcony doors to watch the muscles ripple across his bare back as he lit a cigarette and inhaled, wanting nothing more at that moment than to walk straight to him and slip both hands into the silky red tresses that drifted aimlessly against his spine in the sultry breeze. Sensing her watchful presence, Reno blew a cloud of smoke out into the night, and leaning a hip into the rusted wrought iron railing, he half-turned to lazily study her through lowered lashes.

Struggling against a strong desire to rush forward and wrap her arms around him and hang on for dear life, Elena drew a mantle of cool aloofness about her and walked to the railing a half dozen feet away from him. Lifting her hands to the railing, she bent her head to peer into the street below.

“What are you doing here in Junon, Reno?” she lightly queried in a clear redirection of topic.

“Working,” he bluntly replied.

“You have a job then?” She intently studied a fire hydrant below.

“Yeah.”

“Doing what?” What did Turks do once they weren’t Turks anymore?

Reno pulled in another long drag on his cigarette before he answered. “I work at the Junon City Bank as a security guard.”

“What?” Her head came around in surprise.

“Yeah, you heard me.” He stared off across the street, unwilling to look at her.

Her reluctance to be near him forgotten, Elena closed the distance between them to look into his carefully expressionless face, unconsciously laying her fingers atop the hand fisted around the rail. “I’m sorry, Reno,” she murmured. “That must be awful for you.”

Slowly, Reno swiveled his head to meet her eyes. “No more awful than marrying a man who only wants you for your money.”

She tore her eyes from his and drew her hand away. For long moments she stared blindly onto the empty cracked sidewalk below until finally she answered his remark with a dismissive shrug. “What else is there to do, Reno?” she asked with false carelessness. “Not many men want a woman who used to be a Shinra Turk, and frankly, I don’t care to hide it.”

Reno blew out a cloud of smoke and ground his cigarette out against the rail before shooting the smoldering butt over the side into the street below. Then he straightened away from the rail to fully face her. He shook his head sadly. “Maybe you aren’t looking hard enough, ‘Leney,” he softly replied. “Maybe you’re searching in the wrong direction.”

Elena stood away from the railing to meet his steady gaze head on. “What do you mean, Reno?” she cautiously asked. She easily detected an underlying meaning beneath his cryptically rendered remarks, but she couldn’t fathom what it might be.

He suddenly shrugged. “Nothing, Elena. Not a thing.” A small smile of self-deprecation came to his thin lips. “Just talking to hear myself talk, as usual.” He abruptly moved away from her to reenter the apartment, briefly pausing just inside the door to glance over his shoulder at her. “I believe I’m going to bed now, Elena. It was very nice to see you, but I’m just really worn out, you know. Been a long week. So watch the TV if you want. Read the paper. Whatever. Just let yourself out when you’re through.” To her consternation, he disappeared inside, leaving her alone on the balcony.

“But…Reno…” Elena hurried through the door after him, arriving on the other side just in time to watch Reno shuck his jeans off and kick them into a crumpled wad onto the floor. His bare bottom flashed in front of her as he threw himself full length onto the sagging bed and reached out to whip the covers over his naked body, taking a moment to kick the tangles loose with his feet, the old bed creaking noisily with his movements, as though it were on the verge of collapse. Once satisfied with the state of his covers, he wriggled his body comfortably into the saggy mattress, and when he’d finally achieved just the right fit, he pointedly dragged the blanket higher and curled up beneath the covers with his long legs drawn up and his back to her, the top of his head and the fan of red hair straggling across the pillow the only part of him left to her view.

Elena stared at the motionless lump in the bed in astonishment, more than a little piqued at his cavalier dismissal of her. Obviously, she’d overstayed her welcome, and she should just do what he’d suggested and let herself out. Go. Leave him to his sleep. Unless he really didn’t want her to go. Unless this was another of his games. A challenge to her. Stripping off his jeans in front of her and diving naked into his bed. Maybe it was just a simple unspoken invitation for her to join him there. Still, she could hardly fathom Reno being so indirect. And he really didn’t look all that inviting. In fact, he seemed rather…standoffish…

She took a tentative step toward the bed, the soft tap of her heel against the wooden floor signaling her movement. “Um…Reno?”

He promptly replied as though he’d been waiting for her to speak, his voice muffled beneath the blanket. “Are you still here, Elena? I can’t imagine this place would hold much interest for you.”

She tilted her head inquisitively as she studied his blanket cocooned form. “Are you angry at me, Reno?”

“No, Elena. I’m just tired. Turn off the light on your way out, would you please?” With one hand, he reached up and pulled the raveling edge of the blanket up further to cover his head completely, as though he were a turtle drawing defensively into his shell. Strange behavior for Reno, now that she thought about it. More likely he meant the gesture as a pointed reminder that he’d had more than enough of her company. And she surely should honor his desire to have her gone and go. She really should. She took another step that brought her knees up against the edge of the mattress. Her gaze traveled again to the feathery spray of red tresses escaped the imprisonment of the covers, and her eyes turned wistful, her limbs weak. She had to admit that she didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave things…just like this…

Wholly aware of her presence there, Reno rolled onto his back and drew the blanket down with the crook of a finger, but only far enough to reveal his narrowed green eyes. Eyes that didn’t look the least bit sleepy. “Was there something else you wanted…’Lena?” The impediment of the blanket over his mouth hardly cloaked the silky suggestiveness of his voice.

Her stomach churned at the hidden meaning in the question. Was this then truly the reason she’d come? Had she been hoping that he would attempt to seduce her? Wishing for nothing more than a night of wild abandon with the one man she knew had the reputation for being more than willing and more than capable? She shook her head in denial of the tenor of her own thoughts. Did she really want to be another tally mark on Reno’s long list of sexual conquests?

Reno pushed himself up on both elbows, and Elena hid her gaze behind the veil of her lashes as she watched the blanket slide down his muscular chest and his flat stomach to stop just short of his nether regions as though he’d planned it that way just to taunt her. She drew in a shaky breath and forced her eyes to his face.

“Problem, Elena?” He asked her silkily with knowing eyes.

She fanned a hand in the air. “It’s a little hot in here, isn’t it? Don’t you have air conditioning?”

“Nope, sorry,” he replied carelessly. “I’ll bet there’s plenty of cold air back at your swanky hotel though.”

Another hint on his part to leave? Or a teasing remark? She just wasn’t sure. He seemed to be sending her mixed signals. Or maybe it was her emotions that were mixed.

Reno cocked his head to the side and studied her with a crooked smile. “You might as well admit it, ‘Leney,” he said softly. “You did come to play. Didn’t you?”

Slowly, she shook her head in denial. “I…don’t…” She stopped short, not wanting to finish what she’d meant to say. She’d intended to inform him that she didn’t want that in the least. She wanted him to know that he was dead wrong. She didn’t want to ‘play’. But she did want something from him, didn’t she? Just not exactly…this… Her own nebulous motivations escaped her. And what the hell? Why not this? Why not take what he offered. Why not lose herself in his arms for a short while before going back to the dull routine of her tedious life and the dubious promise of a loveless marriage. Dull, but stable. Secure. Fulfillment of her commitment to her father. A life of dutiful servitude.

Beneath Reno’s watchful eyes, Elena tentatively eased down to a precarious perch on the edge of the mattress beside him and turned an unrevealing gaze to his still face. “What if I do, Reno?”

“Do you, Elena?” he asked unhelpfully, making no move in her direction. Apparently he wanted her to initiate this seduction. She could be pretty seductive when she chose, but his unblinking gaze was making her nervous. Truthfully, he still didn’t seem all that inviting, despite his words. She tentatively slid a hand across the mattress toward him.

“Can I stay, Reno?” she hesitantly queried, trying for a suggestive tone that wound up coming off her lips as oddly wheedling. He was going to think she was an inexperienced amateur.

“Can you, Elena?” he promptly inquired in return, his tone bland and unrevealing. For someone with the reputation of a playboy, he wasn’t being very helpful.

Her brows came together in a slight frown of disgruntlement. She decided that she might as well go for broke. Twisting around to face him, she raised a shaky hand to his chest. The satisfying feel of his warm skin beneath her questing fingers lent her a modicum of steadiness, and she leaned toward him, flattening her hand against him as she brought her face toward his. “Will you kiss me, Reno?” she breathed across her lips, her mouth mere inches from his. All he had to do was lift his face and…

“Uh uh,” he replied with a single shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

Startled at his unexpected refusal, she drew back to stare at him in amazement. “You don’t want to kiss me?” she asked in a voice rife with disbelief.

“I didn’t say that, ‘Leney…” he murmured ruefully.

“So you will kiss me?” she persisted.

“Nope,” he stubbornly replied.

“Why not?” she demanded in hurt outrage. “You’ve kissed plenty of women before.”

“Well…you’re different,” he flatly retorted. Abruptly, he dropped his elbows to fall back against the mattress, and he reached down to drag his covers up between them, giving her a significant look when the hand now resting against his stomach, having slipped down from his chest at his sudden movement, prevented him from bringing the covers up all the way. Stung by his rejection, she jerked her hand away as though his skin had scalded her fingers and jumped to her feet to stare down at him as he rolled back over onto his side and covered his head again.

She folded her arms, and then unfolded them again, unsure what to do with herself, finally bringing her trembling hands in front of her to twist her fingers together in embarrassed anguish. “Is it because…I’m engaged?” she asked in a strained whisper. “I didn’t think you’d be bothered by a…previous…entanglement…”

“Hmm…not usually…” he mumbled from inside the covers.

“Then…what…” She had to know why he didn’t want her. Why wouldn’t he want her? This man who led the life of a tom cat on the make. Sure, maybe he was a discriminating man when it came to women, at least in the looks department, but she knew herself to be a beautiful woman. Why would he reject her?

“Is it because…of Tseng?” Did he feel some kind of misplaced loyalty to their erstwhile leader? If so, it wasn’t like Tseng had ever been truly interested in her, despite his polite invitation to dinner that fateful day in the Temple of the Ancients. In retrospect, she knew he’d just been humoring her and her silly crush. He’d probably meant to let her down gently sometime during the course of their date, but it had never happened.

“No, Elena…” Reno replied in muffled weariness.

“Then…what…please…I…I…have to know…”

He turned back over then, just far enough to lower the blanket and look at her with implacable green eyes. “I doubt very much that a one night stand with you would satisfy me,” he coolly informed her.

His blunt words hit her directly in the heart like a doubled-up fist to the solar plexus, driving the breath from her lungs in a pained gasp, and for a long anguished moment she stared open-mouthed into his smirking face, until she remembered to breathe again, with a sharp intake of air. “You bastard…” she breathed between clenched teeth.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he readily agreed.

Her hands flew to her hips then, and her chin came to a haughty angle. “Well, it’s your loss, Reno. I guess you’ll never know.”

“Guess not…” he conceded carelessly. Apparently done with the conversation, he again rolled away and cocooned himself in his blankets.

“What the…” She threw her hands up in the air then. She’d known it would be a mistake to come here – she’d surely told herself enough times on the way over - and her expectations had most certainly been met. She only had herself to blame though. She’d come here for who the hell knew what reason, and there was no longer any point in lingering where she wasn’t welcome. Wheeling away from the despicable lump of a man hiding beneath his blankets, she angrily flung herself across the small room, coming to a stop with her fingers on the doorknob to glare back once more at him, her hazel eyes scorching in her anger. “Have a nice life, Reno,” she spat venomously.

“You too, ‘Lena,” he called back agreeably. “And…congratulations on your engagement. I should have said that sooner…”

Elena found herself completely speechless for words. Did he expect her to express gratitude at his belated well wishing? Especially after he’d rained all over her engagement with his snide observations. There seemed to be a major disconnect here between Reno’s reality and her own. Had the man lost his mind?

“Oh…and ‘Leney,” he called again. “Be sure to turn out the light when you go.”

With a sharp cry of outrage, she jerked the door open and left. She pointedly ignored the light switch and slammed the door so hard behind her that the concussion toppled an empty beer bottle over the edge of the makeshift table where it hit the floor and rolled until it chinked up against the woven rug.

In the hallway, she walked away at a fast pace, stalking along the worn carpet runner, but within only steps, the refuge of her anger abruptly vanished, leaving her only the knife Reno had planted in her heart, and without any thought of doing so, she was suddenly running. She almost stumbled on the stairs in her headlong descent, and only a snatch at the wooden hand rail saved her. When she reached the bottom, she burst through the door into the sultry night air with little regard for anyone who might be loitering on the other side, and hit the sidewalk outside at full tilt. She crashed into a street cop when she rounded the corner at the end of the block with such force that she nearly toppled them both. He barely managed to maintain his balance, and he shot a hand out to steady her, but she’d recovered faster, and already she’d spun away.

“Hey lady!” he called after the fleeing blonde woman in a white evening dress and matching high heels. “Is something wrong?!” She surely looked out of place in this part of town. He took a step with the thought of pursuing, but then thought better of it. The way she was running, he’d never catch her. And neither would anyone else.

And on she ran, block after block, street after street, but no matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t seem to outrun her demons, and she couldn’t seem to lose her pain.

His temper abruptly flared, and he sprang to his feet to glare at the fallen bottle as though it had been the culprit in the whole affair. But truthfully, he was angry at her. Why had she come? With her expensive gold jewelry, her sleek shimmery dress, and her pricy perfume, the scent of which still lingered tauntingly in his nostrils. And why had she come to cruelly flash her diamond engagement ring in his face? A ring that he knew had cost more gil than he’d made from almost a year of his paltry wages from the bank. With a single visit, lasting only minutes, she’d completely shattered the peace of his complacent life.

He bent and picked up the bottle, lifting it to eye level to peer intently inside, as though he might recover his lost equilibrium there, but all he found was the dead end of the bottom and a taunting accusation. Irritated at the offensive bottle, he flung it toward the trash can where it obediently thunked inside. And why shouldn’t it? He’d acquired a lot of expertise at throwing empty beer bottles into that trash can. He could probably do it with his eyes closed. Hundreds of bottles and hundreds of wasted hours. And that was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? She ventured into his shitty life and fled right out again, and she’d made him see, however inadvertently, how pointless his life had become. But Elena hadn’t made of his life the wasteland that it was. He had only himself to blame. He was angry at her for settling for a life he knew she’d never wanted and for resigning herself to a man she didn’t love, when he was just as guilty. He’d settled for the meager crumbs of a half-assed existence, just as surely as she had.

He suddenly turned his head to stare hard at the door, as though he believed he could make it open by dint of his will and find her standing on the other side. Then maybe he could say what he should have said when he had the chance. Maybe he should just go track her down and tell her now. Say all the things he’d always wanted to say to her, all the things he’d always kept way down inside. It wouldn’t be that hard to find her. He knew where she’d be staying. Only one hotel in town catered to her set, and it was an easy walk away. Closer to his apartment than the bank where he worked. He nodded his head in total agreement with his plan, and he took a determined step to the side, bending down to snatch up his jeans, ready to put his plan in action. But by the time he’d zipped up the zipper and snapped the snap, he realized that he wouldn’t get through the front door of that hotel. He was a big ole nobody now. With no power to press his will and no gil to offer a bribe. He’d never get past the doorman. They’d call the cops and haul his ass away. Take away his belt and shoes, throw him in a jail cell without much more than a roll of toilet paper, and probably they’d swallow the key.

He returned to his bed and sank to the edge, his chin again finding its way into his hands, a debilitating sense of dejection overwhelming him. So easily, he’d talked himself out of it. He knew he could get in the hotel if he wanted. He could get in and see her, if she would even talk to him, and nobody would ever be the wiser. But what in the hell would he say? He had nothing to offer a woman like her. Even as Leader of the Turks, when Tseng had no longer been in the picture to usurp her doting admiration, when he’d been at the top of his game and could take whatever he wanted wherever he pleased, he’d never been able to say what he felt. He’d been intimidated by her elegant beauty, the slum kid he’d once been still part and parcel of his soul. And he had even less to offer her now. Nothing, in fact. He had a pot to piss in and not much else. Disgustedly, he scanned the pathetic apartment through the fall of his tangled hair. In fact, he could pack every single thing he owned into one duffle bag and leave, and no one would even care. He wasn’t important to a single soul. No one would even miss him. Except his boss, for the ten minutes it would take to replace him.

His head flew up in dazed realization then, and his green eyes widened in wonder. He could go, couldn’t he? He wasn’t a prisoner. He was free as a bird. No one to answer to. No reason to stay. No hostages to fortune to worry about. He possessed some crazy assed skills, partly thanks to his own innate cleverness, partly thanks to his years surviving in the streets as a kid, and largely thanks to Shinra, Inc. He didn’t have to settle for this sorry life. If he chose not to. He could start his own business. Why, he could even do what he’d been doing before, and set his own prices. Keep all the gil. It was such an ingenious scheme, he could hardly believe he hadn’t thought of it before. A smile came to his lips as he considered the possibilities, chasing the dark clouds from his face and setting his eyes alight with the first hint of excitement he’d experienced in months. He could even go to Icicle Village and look up Rude. See if the man wanted a stake in his venture.

Reno sprang to his feet again, eager now to act on his idea. He would do it. He really would. He would go. Pack up his shit and leave. Tonight. He’d slip aboard a freighter headed to anywhere but here and see where he wound up. And maybe…just maybe…when Elena grew tired of being a doormat for her father and found herself completely fed up with a husband that saw gil notes when he looked at her, he’d have something to offer her. Something to lure her away from the safe refuge of her monotonous, lackluster life.

Inspired by his idea and fueled by a new lease on life, Reno leapt into a flurry of motion. First, he lit up a cigarette and drew in a long, steadying drag. And with the cigarette dangling from his thin lips, he dove on the beer bottles and sailed them into the trash can, one by one. After that, he wadded up the newspaper into a ball and sailed it in too. Then he went in search of the duffle bag that he hadn’t seen since he’d moved into the place. Under the bed most likely, he surmised. He dropped to his hands and knees to peer into the dusty cavern beneath the bed and spotted the discarded bag straightaway. As though it waited with bated breath for him to find it. It was a sign, he decided. A sign that finally…finally…he had found the right path.

Some while past, she’d come to a dazed and exhausted halt, a simple cessation of motion, just outside the entrance of the hotel, her thoughts in a tangle, dreading and avoiding the taxing event of going inside. Now she wearily raised her head to stare up the steps at the man standing tall in the entrance. A handsome man he was too. Remarkably so, especially garbed in the expensively cut suit that her money had bought, his long black hair pulled sleekly back into a ponytail, and his chocolate brown eyes darkened with emotion. If only that emotion were anything but anger.

“I just…went for a walk…Brad,” she replied with great effort, her voice heavy with an exhaustion both physical and emotional.

“A walk?! You looked like you’ve been mauled!”

She weakly lifted her hand to her hair and chanced a look at the huge plate glass window that formed the front façade of the hotel a few feet away. She found herself studying a stranger with a curious detachment. Her hair tumbled about her face and shoulders in wild disarray, probably from the many times she’d dug her fingers into her scalp in her despair. Her mascara had bled down onto her cheeks along with the sweat that trickled down her brow from the exertion of running for miles in high heels. Her lipstick had smeared from the long moments she’d rested against a brick wall some blocks back with her hand pressed to her trembling mouth. She’d laddered her silk hosiery against the same wall and shortly after, had caught her shoe in a grate and broken off the heel. Another time, she might have been appalled at her appearance, but she decided tonight that she simply didn’t care.

The woman in the glass shrugged indifferently, reflecting her feelings exactly. She shifted an appraising gaze back to the very handsome but disgruntled face of her fiancé. “Okay…Brad, you caught me,” she informed him with a contrary gleam in her eye, the same gleam one might detect in a chocobo’s eyes just before it began to buck. “I got bored with this stupid party, looked up an old boyfriend, and we made wild crazy love for hours. What do you think about that?” she challenged.

He stared down at her with such a marked expression of disgust in his eyes that she thought for a fleeting second that he might really care, until he opened his mouth. “I think you’d better go get cleaned up, Elena, and come back to the party. You look like shit.”

“You don’t even care, do you?” she snapped. “I just told you that I’ve been with another man, and you don’t even give a rat’s ass.”

He lifted his wide shoulders in a shrug. “I’m hardly surprised, Elena. I would expect no more of someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” She turned an indignant gaze to the carefully impassive face of the doorman standing nearby. “Did you hear what he said?” she asked him. “He said…someone like me…”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied noncommittally, keeping his eyes keenly focused on the street.

She returned her snake-eyed regard to the man she planned to marry. “What exactly do you mean by ‘someone like me’?” she coolly queried.

“Come on, Elena,” he replied in exasperation. “Do you really want me to go into all that? I know what you were. I’d expected you to show some restraint, but when you’ve the morals of an alley cat, I suppose it’s in your nature.”

“I see…” she responded in a dangerous voice, her mind filled with a new understanding. “The morals of an alley cat…” How many times had she thrown those exact words in Reno’s face, only to be met with a delighted chuckle and an impish smile? She offered her fiancé a close approximation of just such a smile now. “I was lying, you know,” she blithely informed him, her hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “Just now. There was no other man. I just…went for a walk…made a…serious misstep…and got hurt…”

“Whatever you say, Elena,” he tiredly replied. “Just quit playing your games and go get cleaned up. You father is waiting.”

“Sure, Brad, no problem,” she conceded agreeably enough. She climbed up the stairs, limping on her broken shoe. When she came abreast of him, she paused. “I’m all right by the way,” she icily remarked. “In case you’re interested.”

At her reminder that he hadn’t bothered to ask, he pasted a false look of concern on his face. “I’m glad to hear that, Elena. I was worried.”

“I’ll just bet you were…” She reached up to touch his face. “You sure are beautiful, Bradley,” she idly remarked. “We take such gorgeous pictures together, you and me.”

He smiled with relief that her strange little spell seemed to have passed. “We do, don’t we?” he agreed obsequiously.

“I’ll see you later, Brad.” She gave him a little wave and pushed through the door into the lobby. Pointedly bypassing the bank of elevators, she shoved through the wide red door straight into the hotel bar. When she climbed onto a barstool and propped her chin in her hands, the young bartender looked up. Her bedraggled appearance didn’t even make him blink. “What’s your pleasure, Ms. Taylor-Martin?” he politely inquired.

“Whiskey, straight up,” she promptly replied.

“Coming right up, ma’am.” He hurried to comply. The woman looked like she needed a drink badly. But when he set the glass of whiskey in front of her, along with a glass of water to chase it with, she didn’t appear to notice. Instead of taking the drink, she folded her arms on the glossy wooden bar, and laying her head down, she closed her eyes.

Tired…she was so damn tired. She knew she should go to bed, but she knew her mind wouldn’t settle down and let her sleep.

“Are you okay?” the bartender asked with a trace of concern in his voice. Certainly more concern than her fiancé had shown. She might have been set upon by vagrants for all Brad knew. Sadly, he simply could not care any less. He’d care if she broke off their engagement though. If she cut off his allowance. If? What was this ‘if’ shit? She couldn’t marry him after tonight. Not when he’d blatantly exhibited his true feelings about her. Someone like you…the morals of an alley cat… That doorman probably thought she’d been a hooker in the past. She suddenly laughed, seemingly at nothing, and the young bartender leaned down to inspect her mirthful face and closed eyelashes. “Ms. Taylor-Martin?” he asked a bit louder. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head against her arms. “Nope, I don’t think I am…” she decided aloud.

“Do you want to…talk about it?”

Abruptly, she lifted her head to assess the earnestness in his face. “Do bartenders always do that?” she asked with interest.

“Do what?”

“Ask about people’s problems…”

A crooked smile came to his lips, one that reminded her entirely too much of someone else. “Well…we usually don’t have to ask. People get to drinking a little, they spill their guts. I’ve heard enough life stories to write several books.”

Elena released a heavy sigh. “Well, I won’t tell you mine…”

“And I don’t expect you to…” He hurried to dispel any notion that he meant to pry into her personal business.

She tilted her head in thought. “I do have a question for you, though. You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

“Sure, ask me anything.” He folded his arms against the bar opposite her and bent his head close, the picture of confidentiality.

“Do you think you’d find yourself satisfied after a one night stand with me?” Her gaze sharpened intently on his face, the answer of primary importance to her.

The young man straightened away from the bar, his face reddening beneath her appraisal. He held up his hands in a placating gesture as he attempted a gentle refusal, one that wouldn’t hurt her feelings or make her angry. “Ah…look…Ms. Taylor-Martin…I have a girlfriend, and I’d never…I wouldn’t…I couldn’t…”

Elena’s perfectly plucked brows lowered in a scowl. “I didn’t mean you…” she replied coolly. “It was a hypothetical question.”

“Ah…a hypothetical question…” His shoulders slumped as relief washed through him, although his face flushed deeper at his misinterpretation. He’d really stuck his foot in his mouth this time. “I’m really…truly…sorry that I…”

“Forget it, okay,” Elena flatly commanded. “Forget I asked.” Gods, the doorman thought she was a hooker, and the bartender thought she was looking for an easy pickup. She picked up her drink with shaky fingers and tossed the amber liquid down her throat, only to spill a copious amount down her dress. The part that did go down made her choke. How the hell could Reno drink this shit all the time?

The bartender obligingly handed her a napkin, and she daubed ineffectually at a stain that she could hardly see from her watery eyes. “This hypothetical question you asked me…” the young man said slowly in cautious reintroduction of the subject.

She waved the napkin like a flag of truce, and then swiped it across her eyes, smearing her mascara across her nose this time. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not important.” She caught sight of herself in the mirror behind the bar then, and she promptly decided that she’d best make some reparations. She had gone from being markedly disheveled to looking positively ridiculous. She dipped the napkin into the glass of water and went to work.

“Must have been pretty important to you…for you to ask it…” he gently argued, watching her scrub at her face. “I’m willing to try to answer your…hypothetical question…but I probably need to know a little more about it…”

Elena shook her head. She wasn’t telling this guy another thing. She’d hung out enough of her dirty linens in public today. “I’ve decided not to discuss the matter any further.”

“Well…I understand your reluctance, but I mainly wanted to know why you were asking,” he persisted. “Did someone say that to you?”

“Yeah,” she said with a deprecating grimace. “Someone said that to me.”

“A…guy?”

“Yes, a guy. An obnoxious, asinine jerk of a guy.” She scrubbed vigorously at her smeared lipstick.

“Someone you know then…”

“Yes, I know him… Unfortunately…”

“…And this guy…he does like…women?” he tentatively queried.

Elena snorted her derision. “Oh yeah. The womanizing bastard.” She glared at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar as she evaluated her progress, and then she promptly returned to her ministrations with renewed effort.

“Well…did you look like you do now? When he said it?” he gingerly asked, watching her face for the first hint of offense, at which he planned to profusely apologize for his transgression. “Or…like you did…at the party?”

Elena stopped scrubbing and landed narrowed hazel eyes on his face. “You saw me at the party, did you?”

“Yeah, I helped set up the bar.”

“Was I drop dead gorgeous then?” she coolly demanded.

“You sure were,” he enthusiastically agreed. “…And…you still are…” he swiftly added, lest she take umbrage.

“Hmph…right…” She turned her head this way and that, appraising the condition of her hair in the mirror. “Do you have a comb?”

“Sorry…no…”

She raked her hair down into place with both hands, achieving a semblance of her previous coif, and then she simply shrugged and let it go. Did it really matter how she looked anyway?

“So…were you…” he causally prompted.

“Yes…I was drop dead gorgeous…” she icily replied. “At the time the obnoxious bastard made his comment…”

He straightened up and planted both hands on the bar. “The answer is obvious then.”

She looked back at him in surprise. “It is?” The answer had certainly escaped her, and she imagined herself to be moderately intelligent.

He emphatically nodded his head. “Yep, it is.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What’s your answer?”

“The answer is no.”

“No?” she demanded indignantly. “No? I could not satisfy Re…this hypothetical man?”

The young bartender quickly held up a finger to stay her rising anger. “Let me finish.”

She threw up a hand in disgust. “Sure…by all means…continue…” Why had she started this discussion again? Obviously she needed her head examined by a reputable psychiatrist. And truthfully, she could afford it.

“The answer is no, because…” He paused theatrically. Elena’s eyes filled with displeasure, and he hurriedly continued. “It wouldn’t be enough.”

“What wouldn’t be enough?”

“One night. Get it? One. Night.”

She shook her head as his explanation escaped her, until she managed to put it all together in her befuddled mind, and then her eyes flew wide in revelation. “One night would not be enough to satisfy him…” she murmured to herself. “But why…would Reno say that?” That did put a little different spin on things, if it were true. Her eyebrows met as she frowned deeply in thought.

“Reno?” the bartender asked with interest, instantly picking up on the name she’d inadvertently given voice. “There used to be a guy named Reno who came in here a lot, a year ago or so.”

“Oh, really? Red hair? Green eyes?”

“Well…he was a…Turk.”

“Yeah, I know him.”

“So it’s the same guy? The one that said that to you, and the one that used to come here?”

“Nope, not the same.” And it was true really. Outside of physical appearance, the Reno she’d seen today bore little resemblance to the Reno she’d known then. The Reno she’d seen today had given up. But then…so hadn’t she? She’d settled for the exact life that she’d run from all those years ago, when she’d gone to work for Shinra. And for what? To marry a man that despised her? To live a big fat lie? But did she really want to dwell on that right now, when she’d found herself an intriguing fount of information about the one person whose face tauntingly dominated her mind.

“So…Reno…did he tell you his life story?” She couched her intense interest in an offhand tone.

The bartender held up a hand and offered her a tentative smile. “Now that would be breaching the confidentiality of my clients,” he teased.

“I suppose it would…” she coolly agreed.

“Ah…” He averted his eyes at her suddenly icy regard and swept a rag across the bar as he continued, hoping to soothe her ruffled feathers. “That guy, Reno, he kept stuff close to the vest anyway. Besides, he hardly ever came in alone.”

“Lots of women, I imagine…”

He slowly shook his head in thought as he scrubbed away at a stubborn water stain on the bar. “Nah, not really. He was with another Turk usually, a real big guy, although he did come in alone sometimes…”

“Rude,” Elena offered.

“Yeah, that was his name…Rude…”

A wave of sadness unexpectedly engulfed her, and she lowered sorrowful eyes to the bar. Those days were long gone. The days of the Turks… She felt like crying, although she knew she wouldn’t. The cleansing release of a really good cry had escaped her for years, no matter how much she might will it. Since her mother had died…actually… Even tonight…she’d wanted so badly to cry...but…she couldn’t manage so much as a single tear. And she was getting maudlin. It was beyond time to go.

Elena slipped off the barstool to stand. “Well, it’s been a pleasure…” She offered her hand to the young man and squinted at the name on his pin, the letters obliterated by the glint of a bright spotlight against the fake gold metal of the plastic tag.

“Lenny,” he supplied with a grin as he took her hand in an exuberant shake. “Short for Leonard.”

She politely nodded her head in acknowledgement. “It was very nice to meet you, Lenny. You’ve been a big help. Maybe I’ll see you around.” Or maybe not.

“I hope so, Ms. Taylor-Martin. Come back every chance you get.”

She nodded again. “I will…bye now,” she bade with a clear finality, and with a little wave of farewell, she turned and limped away. Then Lenny snapped his fingers, and she stopped in her tracks, swiveling her head to look back at him. She took note of his animated face and wide smile. “Was there something else?” she carefully queried.

“I just remembered something, that’s all. About my name.”

“Oh…really?” His name didn’t truly interest her that much, but she supposed she’d listen out of politeness.

“Yeah, one night when Reno was here alone, and he was really drunk, he started talking about my name. It reminded him of a girl with the same name, I think. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been babbling on about her.”

“A girl…named Lenny? Lenny…long for…Lynn?” She knitted her brows in bewilderment.

“No, no, no,” he vigorously protested. “It wasn’t Lenny. It was Leney. Lenny. Leney. See the similarity?”

“Why yes…now that you mention it…I do…” She tilted her head and leveled a sly gaze on his face. “What did he say about this…Leney?”

“Oh…you know…just the usual…stuff. She loves somebody else and never notices him at all…and she’s so beautiful…and he’s not her type…yadda yadda…”

“Should you be telling me all this?” she dryly asked.

He clapped his hand over his mouth. “Probably not…” he muttered through his fingers. “Forget everything I just said.”

“Okay, I will,” Elena replied agreeably enough. “I won’t tell a soul.” She walked the few steps back to the bar. “I want to ask you something…else…though…”

“I’m not telling,” he bluntly replied. “My reputation’s at stake now, you know.”

“No, it’s about you…”

“What about me?” he asked warily.

“Your girl…do you love her?”

He vigorously nodded his head. “You bet I do, Ms. Taylor-Martin. She’s the bright light in my life. I don’t think I could go on without her. I’d probably just curl up and die if she left me.”

“Will you marry her, do you think?”

His eyes fell at her question. “I plan to ask her…next week. It’s her birthday. But…I don’t know what she’ll say.”

Elena softly smiled. “I think she’ll say yes,” she assured him.

“Do you really think so?” he asked hopefully.

“Why wouldn’t she?” Elena shrugged.

“Well…I can be a big dumbass…sometimes…” He shook his head in despair at his own failings.

“Can’t we all?” Elena raised her hand and worked the diamond ring from her finger, and then she cupped it in her palm and offered it to him. “Here. I want you to give her this. When she says yes.”

He stared in astonishment at the exorbitantly expensive ring, and he instantly shook his head in denial. “Oh no…oh no…I…can’t take that…”

She smiled encouragingly. “I want you to. Please. For your girl.”

“But your fiancé…what will he say…”

“The ring is mine,” she replied coolly. “I paid for it. And I can do with it what I want. And I want your girl to have it. I want to see this ring on the finger of a woman who is truly loved.” This time Elena reached out and laid the ring on the bar beside the young man’s fisted hand. “I’m leaving it here. It’s yours. So take it.”

Finally, he picked the ring up in careful fingers. “I…I don’t know what to say…”

“Don’t say anything…just …give it to your girl…”

“But…someone’s liable to say…that I stole it…”

Elena silently conceded his point and drew a napkin toward her. “Do you have a pen?”

He rummaged around beneath the counter and came up with one. Quickly, she scrawled out a transfer of ownership, and then she scrawled her signature at the bottom. Beneath that, she printed her name. “Here, you sign it too. And print your name.”

His eyes still rife with stunned disbelief, he took the napkin from her, and did as she instructed. “Okay then, we’re done. I’ll have all the paperwork for the ring delivered to you within the week. Give your girl my regards.” Finally, she turned to leave. She had to get going. The night was wearing thin, and she had a cab to hail.

“Elena…”

Again, she looked back at him, a bit impatiently this time. “What is it?” she queried in an overly polite voice.

“Your name…it’s Elena. I guess I never knew your first name. It’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you.” Again, she turned away, but then a mischievous smile came to her lips, and she looked back at him. “Elena…long for Leney…”

He stared at her in puzzlement. “Long for…” Then his eyes widened in shocked recognition. “You’re…Leney?! The Leney?!” Her helpless smile was her answer. “So…then…you’re going to go see him, right? Go talk to him?”

Her smile promptly vanished from her face. “No, sir, I am not,” she replied with a stern look.

“You’re not?”

“Nope, I’m not. I’m going to go kick his ass.”

Her laughter trailed behind her as she went out the door.

“Young lady, will you please stop pounding at that door. It’s 3 o’clock in the morning.”

“I’m sorry,” Elena promptly apologized. “But I’m worried about the person in this apartment. He’s not answering.”

“Who, Reno?” The old lady laughed. “He’s probably passed out cold again. If you want in so bad, go knock on the super’s door, and get that grumpy old bastard to let ya in.”

“The super…” Elena vaguely repeated. She turned an appraising gaze to the lock. Hell, she didn’t need the super. She used to be a Turk, after all. She raised her head with purposeful eyes to address the old lady, only to find that she’d already disappeared into her apartment. Swiftly, Elena limped down the hall and knocked softly on her door. The woman snatched open the door as though she’d been waiting just on the other side. She propped her hands on her ample hips and studied the blonde woman with displeased eyes as watered down gray as her hair. “What now?”

“I’m sorry,” Elena apologized again, a contrite expression on her face. “But I was wondering if you had a hairpin I could borrow, and maybe…a screwdriver?”

“Ah…up to a wee bit of breakin’ and enterin’, eh?”

Elena nodded uncertainly. “Only a little.”

“Well…if it means you’ll be quiet…” The woman’s voice trailed away as she disappeared into her apartment. Shortly, she returned with the screwdriver in her hand, and she drew the requested hairpin from one of her rollers. “Here ya go, child.”

“Thank you very much,” Elena expressed wholeheartedly as she took the items into her hands. She started to turn away, until the lady asked a question that stopped her in her tracks.

“Say, are you Reno’s girl?”

She turned around to stare at the old woman uneasily, her stomach churning at the question. Did Reno have a girl now? Maybe that’s why he’d spurned her tentative advances.

“Uh…maybe…”

“Well, I’m glad to finally meet cha…” The old woman gave her a toothless grin. “He talks about ya when he’s down into his bottle aways. Janey isn’t it?”

“Leney,” she blankly corrected her.

The woman pointed a finger at her. “Leney, that’s it. You better take good care of that boy. He takes good care of me. Kicks those goddamn bill collectors right down the stairs. That boy’s a badass and a half.”

Elena numbly nodded her head. “Yes…he is…and…I will…” Good heavens, did everybody on the whole wide planet know but her? She wondered then if Rude had known. A year ago Reno had been talking about her to Lenny. Rude must have known.

The old woman shook a finger at her. “You better…or you’ll answer to me…” And with that last warning, she vanished into the apartment and softly closed the door. With a dazed shake of her head, Elena hurried to Reno’s door where she dropped to one knee, unbent the hairpin, and expertly set to work on the lock. Within moments she’d flipped all the tumblers open.

Her heart started to race as she rose to her feet and turned the knob. The door easily swung open a couple of inches before coming up against the safety chain. She pressed an eye to the crack, but she couldn’t see much in the darkened room. She tried to slip her hand between the door and the jamb, hoping to reach the light switch, but the aperture was too narrow to get her wrist through. She next put her mouth to the crack. “Reno…” she called lowly. She didn’t want to get the old lady riled up again by making too much racket. “Reno!” She risked a more imperative hail. She received no response to either. Not so much as a rustle of movement. She picked the screwdriver up from the floor where she’d left it, and jammed it into the middle of a link. Awkwardly, she flipped the tool end over end through the narrow opening, until she’d cranked up enough torque to snap the cheap chain in two with a determined application of force. The broken ends of the chain clinked noisily against the door, and the screwdriver fell inside to clunk against the wooden floor. And still she heard no sound of response to her less than clean entry from within.

Elena wasted no more time. She shoved open the door and flipped on the light, only to stare at the small room in astonishment. The place had been cleaned from top to bottom. The clothes were gone from the chair, and the beer bottles had vanished from the crate table. The trash had been picked up, and the floor had been swept. No straggling garments decorated the chest of drawers, and even the ashtray had been dumped and washed. The fleeting thought that maybe she should step out and come in again, after double-checking the apartment number on the door, flashed inanely through her mind. Instead, she turned fearful eyes toward the bed, and that’s where she found him. Fully clothed in his jeans, a blue t-shirt and loafers, he lay sprawled like a floppy limbed rag doll tossed onto his stomach, with one arm and one leg hanging off the bed, the fall of his loosened hair covering his whole face, the end of the blanket drawn over his neck and chin like a child might do with a treasured blankie. The man looked for all the world like he was…dead.

“Reno…” she whispered hoarsely as she walked slowly but steadily toward him. “Reno…are you…awake?”

She came to a stop at the edge of the bed. “Reno!” she cried out loudly. “Reno, wake up!” Her lungs closed painfully tight at the lack of response. In the past, this man would have been awake at the slightest sound in his environment, unless he’d been drinking or…had taken something… She knew she should check his pulse or his breathing, but she was almost afraid to touch him. Afraid to look too closely. Still, she could not bring herself to believe that he might have done something…irrevocable. Wasn’t it Reno who always told her that the only thing one had to worry about in life was breathing? That as long as one had breath, there was hope? No matter how bad life seemed to be? Carefully, she sank to her knees beside the bed, and laying one arm against the mattress for support, she reached out to him.

Unseen beneath the cloak of his hair, one green eye drifted open at the movement of the mattress, and when she gently drew a thick strand of hair out of his face, she found him looking at her with that one glazed eye. She brought her face close to examine that eye more carefully. “Reno?” she softly queried. “Are you okay?”

The eye blinked sleepily then. “Leney…” he mumbled drowsily. “That you?”

“Yeah…it’s me…”

“Hmm…Just…a…dream…” he murmured as his lashes drifted down.

“No, I’m not a dream, Reno.” She gingerly drew another long strand of hair from across his nose. Again, his eye cracked open, and he dazedly studied her nearby features. “You okay, Leney?” he queried with sleepy concern. “You don’t look…so good…”

“Yeah…I’m fine, Reno. Just had a…rough night… How ‘bout you? You okay?”

He barely moved his head in a nod.

“Did you get drunk?”

“Uh uh.”

“Did you take something? Pills or something?”

That question seemed to sharpen his attention on her. “Why?” he asked in disgruntlement.

She dragged yet another strand off his face and drew it over his shoulder to smooth the length of it down his back. “You just seem…really out of it…”

“I’m just…tired…Elena…” he chided grumpily. Again, his lashes drifted down as though to prove his contention.

“Well, you have been busy…” she conceded with a wry little smile. “…Since I left…”

He didn’t rouse himself to answer, but his hand aimlessly went roaming, until his fingers found the edge of his blanket, and he promptly drew it up over his eyes, as though to replace the hair she’d moved away. The light was probably bothering him. He’d sure bitched about it enough earlier. With a little sigh, she rose to her feet with the intention of turning off the light, but she diverted slightly in her route to drag one loafer and then the other off his sockless feet, and that’s when she noticed the battered duffle bag sitting at the foot of the bed.

Bending at the knees, she stooped down to ease the zipper open, and inside she found what she pretty much expected to see. Reno had packed his clothes, his toothbrush and toothpaste, his razor and his shaving cream, his opened carton of cigarettes and a lighter, his two cans of stew and his box of crackers, and in the very bottom, she found his magrod. She drew the weapon out to look it over, and then she carefully put it back. Obviously, the man planned to leave, most likely for good. And wherever Reno meant to go, there would be hell to pay if he thought he was going without her.

Zipping the bag up again, she crossed over to shut out the light, and then she returned to the bed. She propped her hands on her hips and studied his limp form at length, until she decided that she had only one option. Kicking off her pumps onto the rug, she walked down to the end of the bed, dragged the skirt of her dress up out of the way, climbed up over the brass foot rail, and then let herself down to walk across the mattress on her knees. She reached down and lifted his limp right arm out of her way so she could stretch out on her side between him and the wall, and then she replaced the boneless arm across her waist. She wriggled around, setting the bed to creaking, until she found a position that seemed to suit her, and then she lay still and let her eyelids drift shut.

The fact that he wasn’t alone anymore belatedly pierced through Reno’s numb stupor, and his eyes suddenly popped open, even as his mind labored to make sense of his surroundings. Had he imagined her presence in his room? “Elena?” he softly called. He knew he had to still be asleep and dreaming. He was so bone tired and drowsy, he could hardly tell.

“What, Reno?” she murmured a little crankily. She’d almost been asleep herself.

“What…are you…doing?” he labored to push the words to form his question off of uncooperative lips.

“Taking advantage of the fact that you’re too tired to kick me out.”

“…Oh…” Seemed reasonable to him. He closed his eyes again, and then her words seeped into his brain. With great effort, he drew in his limbs and twisted and rolled until he managed to wriggle around to a position on his side where he could vaguely see her face in the dim light from the street outside.

“Reno, will you please stop shaking the bed?” she complained querulously. “You’re making me seasick…”

He labored to find the will to lift himself up on one elbow to peer down with sleepy wonder into her face. He really didn’t believe that his dream Elena would be chewing him out. Would she? One of his hands ventured out to give her forearm a little squeeze. She seemed real enough. “What are you…doing here…Elena?” he asked grumpily.

“I’m here because I want to be here.” She turned her head against the pillow to look into his shadowed face. “Why? Are you going to throw me out?”

His meager store of strength all used up, he let his heavy head fall against the pillow. “Maybe…tomorrow…” His weighted eyelids started to close.

She rolled onto her side to face him, and she gingerly raised her fingers to one scarred cheekbone. At her touch against his cheek, his eyes slipped open again. “You smell like…whiskey…Elena…” he murmured with a hint of surprise.

“Well…you smell like an ashtray,” she smartly retorted.

“…True…” He could hardly deny it, nor did he have the wits about him to do so.

“Can I stay, Reno?” she coolly asked.

He blinked sleepily at her question. “I dunno, ‘Lena…” he drowsily slurred. “…Can you?”

She knew the correct answer to that particular question now. “Yes, I can,” she confidently replied.

“…Okay…” he easily conceded.

She dragged a fingertip along the length of his nose, causing him to curl his upper lip at the tickle. “How long can I stay, Reno?” she pressed him further.

“…Dunno…’Leney…how long can you…stay…”

“Hmm…how about…fifty years…”

“…Uh…uh…sixty…”

“How about seventy-five?”

“…Okay…”

She lifted a silky strand of hair and wove the ends around her fingers. “Are you going somewhere, Reno?”

“…Yeah…tomorrow…”

“Can I go too?”

“…Can you…’Leney?”

“Yes, I can.”

“…Sure…okay…”

“Will you kiss me, Reno?”

“…Sure…tomorrow…”

“I can kiss you though.”

“…Okay…”

“You are certainly agreeable when you’re tired,” she softy pointed out.

“…Um…hmmm…”

She cautiously slipped her left hand against his cheek and wriggled closer. Very tenderly, she planted a soft and lingering kiss at the very corner of his mouth. With a little frown at the disturbance of his near slumber, he turned his face away, and his hand traveled to the fingers that rested against his face, half with the intention of moving them, but when his own fingers slipped across hers, a newfound knowledge chimed inside his dull brain. He forced his eyes open to see her hazel eyes glittering in the subdued light as she watched him.

“Where’s your ring, Elena?” he asked more sharply, his voice roughened with the hoarseness of sleep.

“I…gave it away…Reno.”

“I…see…” He reached over with a finger and traced one narrow eyebrow to the bridge of her nose, and then he slipped his hand into the soft tresses of her hair and drew the strands between his fingers, still halfway testing his theory that she was only a dream.

“I gave it away…because I realized…something.”

“…Did you…” He drew a strand of blonde hair against his lips.

“Yes, I realized that…I…love you…Reno,” she confessed in a voice tight with repressed emotion.

“…Okay…’Leney…” He relinquished the captive hair to turn his hand against her cheek.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” She traced his lower lip with a fingertip as he trailed his fingers along the line of her jaw.

“I believe you…” he murmured against her fingertip.

“But…I thought you didn’t believe…in love…”

“…I…lied…”

“Oh really…”

“…Yes…really…”

“Well, if you ever lie to me again, Reno, I’m kicking your ass.”

“…You can…try…”

A soft smile came to her lips. “Maybe you better go back to sleep, Reno, before you get into trouble.”

“…Maybe…so…”

In eager compliance with her teasing suggestion, he curled his body against her. Laying one long leg across hers, he slipped his arm across her ribcage and snuggled his face into her neck. His eyes drifted closed as she tentatively slid a hand up his back to draw him into the protection of her embrace, and within minutes he was sound asleep. At first, she found herself restive and uncomfortable despite her weariness, reveling in the feel of his body against hers, her mind turning with all the possibilities, but eventually sleep crept into her weary brain as his soft respirations lulled her. Gently, she moved her cheek against his warm hair, and eventually her eyes fell closed as well.