KENSINGTON BOOKS

       KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      To my husband, who handles my crazy schedule, a perpetually messy house, and shortage of home-cooked meals like a champ. And my children, who have heard “Mommy’s trying to work” more times than any kid wants to hear. Thanks for being so patient with me.

      And my editor, Audrey, and agent, Natasha. You’ve helped make my dreams come true. Thank you.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 1

      “I know, I know, I’m a rotten friend—” Sophie Hahn stumbled through her best friend’s front doorway in the hurried, less than graceful gait of a deer that has suffered a near fatal confrontation with a semi truck. “Dao? Where are you?” She rushed through the living room, shouting, “Really, there should be a law against leaving a message that begins with ‘I need you to get over here yesterday,’ and ends with, ‘It’s life or death’ at five A.M. on a Saturday morning. I’ll have you know I ran at least three red lights on the way here, and I think I’ll need a rotate and balance. I’m pretty sure my right tires are shot. Dao? Lisse? Hellooooo!”

      She rounded the corner, heading toward the kitchen at a fast jog; however, the sight of her friend—pale, bedraggled, and slouching against the wall as if he lacked the strength to stand upright—brought her to a screeching halt. “Holy smokes! You weren’t exaggerating. What the heck is wrong with you?” She lunged forward and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. No fever. “You’d better lie down. Is it serious? Darn it! I knew I should’ve come over last week—”

      “No, no. Nothing’s wrong.” Dao Wen Dong knocked her hand away like it was a pesky fly, gave her an unconvincing shake of his head, and practically dragged his limp-looking body across the living room to shut the front door. “I’ve never been better.” He held her in a stiff, cold hug for an instant, then dropped his arms, motioning her toward the kitchen with a tip of his head.

      I’ve had a warmer welcome at the secretary of state’s office. “No offense, but you look like hell,” she said as she leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms over her chest.

      Her friend’s responding smile was hollow, his eyes flat as day-old Pepsi, as he poured a cup of coffee. He offered it to her, but, not a coffee drinker, she refused it with a shake of her head. Despite her best effort, she couldn’t help staring at the deep purple shadows hanging under his eyes like bruises. The dark circles contrasted sharply with the wan tone of the rest of his face.

      Had her teetotaling friend gone on a bender?

      “Seriously, you don’t look well at all,” she repeated.

      “Thanks,” Dao grumbled. “It’s good to see you too, not that you look much better.”

      Having forgotten her mad rush to Dao’s house, and the lack of time and attention she’d paid to her hair, clothing, and make-up, Sophie raised a hand to tame her bedhead. “Well, you said it was life or death. Honestly, if you’d wanted me to take the time to get all pretty, you should’ve avoided the words ‘Get over here yesterday.’ So, what’s the big secret? Are you hungover? Did you go on a binge, down a beer or two, lose your head, and do something crazy—like take a midnight road trip to KFC?”

      “You know I don’t drink. And even drunk I wouldn’t touch deep-fried food.”

      “Then are you sure you’re not sick? Maybe you should go see a doctor. Seriously.”

      “Oh. No. I’m quite certain I’m fine. I’m just tired. Been working a lot, between—” He chuckled. “Well, let’s just say I’m not getting much sleep these days. But I’m taking vitamins. Lots of B for fatigue and C to fight off infection. Anyway, I wanted to show you my latest work in progress. It’s sheer genius.” He motioned for her to follow him down the hallway.

      “I bet. I’ve loved every book you’ve written. Brilliant. Absolute genius. I wish I could write like you do. Then I could quit my crappy job, stay at home, and work in my jammies. What a life!” Sophie hurried behind him to his office. Despite the fact that the man had to have lost a good twenty pounds or more the past couple of months and looked like a walking skeleton, he could move pretty quickly when he wanted to. Must’ve been those B vitamins kicking in. “Speaking of geniuses, where’s your lovely wife?”

      “Er…Lisse had a…late night.” Dao gave Sophie an odd grin and guilty chuckle as he pulled out his desk chair and slouched into it. He added, “She’s sleeping but last night—”

      Sophie waved her hands. “Ah. Too much information there.”

      “You asked.” He motioned toward an empty chair.

      “So, let me get this straight—Lisse doesn’t know I’m here? Even with all my bellowing?” She glanced at the empty chair, then at Dao. “I don’t know. Maybe I should leave. It’s early, Saturday morning, she’s asleep. You’ve only been married a couple of months. I wouldn’t want her to think—”

      “No way. First, Lisse could sleep through a natural disaster. Second, she would never think anything about you and me. I’ve told her over and over again that after being friends for so long, sleeping with you would be plain creepy. Like sleeping with my own sister—if I had one, that is. Besides I doubt she’ll wake up for at least a couple of hours.” Dao scooted his chair up to the desk, swept his cluttered desktop clear with one arm, then fired up the Dell. “If I’d known what an effect marriage would have on my writing, I would’ve married Lisse months ago. I can’t believe how inspired I’ve been lately—”

      “Please,” Sophie interrupted before he went into any details about the subject of his inspiration. She pulled up a chair and sat. “If I agree to stick around for a few minutes, you must promise me, no more talking about your sex life. I can’t remember the last time I had any conjugal—or even nonconjugal—action. I don’t need to be reminded about what I’m missing.”

      Dao laughed, his eyes squinting into the little upside-down smileys she’d adored since the first time she’d met him, on the middle-school playground. “Fair enough.” Those little smiley eyes had always been able to make her feel better, even on her worst days.

      “Good, because if you said another word, I’d never be able to look Lisse in the face again without blushing.”

      Dao chuckled as he punched keys and clicked the mouse, finally opening a word-processing document.