A half hour later, they stood at the departure gate. Ralph was gripping his overnight bag with one hand. His other arm was around her waist.

"You're sure I didn't rope you into this thing with Bill," Ralph said softly.

He had his thumb hooked under the hem of her heavy oatmeal-colored sweater and she felt him stroke the small of her back in slow, steady circles that made her shiver.

She rested a hand on his chest and played with one of the buttons on his oxford shirt.

"Don't be silly," she said. "You're right; it's one dinner. We probably won't kill each other. Not before desert, anyway."

He chuckled and nuzzled her hair. She enjoyed the light friction of his cheek against hers.

"It's weird," he murmured. "I thought he would try harder to talk me out of going. I wonder why he didn't?"

She wrinkled her nose.

"Sudden attack of acute empathy?" she said. "His body probably didn't know how to fight it. I'm sure he's forming antibodies against it as we speak."

She felt his grin against her cheek.

"One of these days," he said, his breath tickling her ear. "You two are really going to have to learn to get along."

"We get along fine," she said. "Just not with each other."

He laughed and she patted his lean muscled chest.

"Do you know where you're going once you get there?" she said. "Have you got the address of the hotel?"

"Oh," he said. "Didn't I tell you? When I talked to Alicia yesterday, she insisted I was going to stay with her."

Pam felt herself stiffen. She leaned back to look in his eyes.

"Did she?" she said carefully.

"Yeah," he said. "She said something about having a heart to heart after Kevin goes to bed."

Ralph shrugged.

"Probably wants to tell me all about the new guy she's seeing. Fernando or Lorenzo or something. I can't imagine why she still wants to make me jealous."

Maybe because she's a scheming harpy, Pam thought.

"I can't imagine either," she said. "You could always tell her you're too tired from your trip. She can use the phone if she's that desperate to talk."

"It's no big deal." Ralph said, shrugging. "Besides, if you can spend the night with Bill, I can spend the night with Alicia."

She blinked. That, she thought, was definitely not how she would have phrased it.

"Well, don't let her keep you up too late," she said weakly.

"I'll be asleep and dreaming of you before Santa comes, I promise," he said, grinning. "I wish you were go-"

She grinned and gave him a gentle shove.

"Don't start that again," she said. "Have fun and remember to give Kevin my love."

She glanced down at his bag.

"You've got the present?" she said.

Ralph let go of her waist and reached into his bag. He pulled out a corner of the gold-wrapped box.

"Right here," he said, "Oh, and I've got my present, too."

He tucked the package back and pulled out a roll of bright Kelly green fabric. He shook it open and held up a v-neck pullover sweater.

Pam was suddenly acutely aware of Bill standing a few feet away.

"Ralph," she said in a slightly strangled voice, "I don't think you'll need that in Miami."

"But it's great," Ralph said. "I'm going to wear it a lot. Hey, Bill!"

Pam felt a sudden rush of cold panic before Ralph started to stuff the sweater back into his bag. She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw Bill, fortunately, seemed to be absorbed in studying the departures board.

"Bill," Ralph called again, "I've got to go."

Bill turned suddenly, looking as he'd been startled out of a daydream.

"I just wanted to tell you two to have fun tonight," Ralph said. "Show her a good time."

"You bet, kid," Bill said easily. "You just relax and let somebody else do the flying for a change."

"Right," Ralph said cheerfully. "That'll be a relief."

He turned to back to Pam.

"Love you, sweetheart," he said and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, then leaned away and adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

An image flashed in Pam's mind of Alicia, standing at the arrivals gate in Miami and the kiss she'd have waiting for Ralph. On a sudden impulse she reached out and took his face between her hands. She pulled him close and felt his mouth open against hers.

She traced her tongue along the curve of his bottom lip then took it gently in her teeth. She felt his sharp intake of breath and turned her head to deepen the kiss.

When she stepped back a moment later, she let her hands fall to his chest. His heart thrummed against her fingertips. His blue eyes were wide and feverishly bright.

"See you tomorrow night," she whispered.

"R-right," he said and licked his lips. "Uh."

He glanced up at the departure board. "Or I could-"

She laughed and gave him a gentle push.

"Get on the plane," she said.

He was still looking over his shoulder at her when he turned the corner on the gangway and disappeared.

She felt Bill move up beside her.

"Good one, Davidson," he said. "Alicia's going to have a tough time competing with that memory."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not the slightest bit worried about Ralph being alone with Alicia," she said.

"Not now," he answered pleasantly.

"Not ever," she said, and turned on her heel.

"So," she said, setting a rapid pace through the departure lounge. "What's for dinner, Bill? What's your favorite place that serves fried things in little plastic baskets?"

"Listen, Davidson," he said, his ringing voice carrying easily over the hubbub. "You don't gotta keep me company. Why don't you go home and take a bubble bath or paint your toenails pink or something?

She glanced up in surprise. He looked down and met her eyes, then turned his attention back to the long, tile-lined breezeway that connected the terminals.

"What?" he said. "Don't you girls do that kinda stuff when the fella's away?"

"Fella?" she said.

"Besides," he went on as if she hadn't spoken. "I wasn't kidding about the paperwork. I'm up to my neck. Carlisle seems to think if he gives me enough to fill out he's going to catch me at something. Let's just scratch it at the starting post. I won't tell Ralph if you don't."

She felt her irritation begin to rise. She reached out and grabbed his arm. He skidded to a stop beside her and looked down with a startled expression. Despite herself, she noticed that, as tall as she was, she had to lean back to look him in the eye.

"You listen, Maxwell," she said, fighting to keep her voice level, "The 'fella' seems to think it's important we spend time together and I'm willing to make the effort. I think you can, too. It's just one night."

His eyes narrowed and his mouth drew down in a tight frown. For a moment, she thought they were going to have a yelling match in the middle of the airport.

Then he inhaled sharply and seemed to come to a decision. To her surprise, he flashed a tight smile.

"Fine, Davidson," he said evenly. "You win. I'll take you to dinner."

He turned and started down the tiled breezeway in such long, ground-eating strides that she had to run to catch up.

"Wait a minute," she said, drawing level with him, "You're not exactly taking-"

"Nah, you're right," he said as she drew level with him, "Ralph expects me to show you a good time. That's what I'm gonna do. Now, this place we're going-"

"Hold on," she said, trying to keep from panting with the exertion of matching his pace. "Why do you get to pick the restaurant?"

He shot her a look.

"Because, Davidson," he said patiently. "I'm the guy."

When she only stared at him with wide-eyed disbelief, he glanced down.

"What?" he said, eyebrows raised.

She cocked an eyebrow in return.

"Oh," he said dismissively. "I'm not supposed to say that, right? Jeez, catch a guy trying to be chivalrous."

She snorted.

"That's not chivalry, Bill," she said. "It's just medieval."

"Fine," he said, "I'm not picking the restaurant because I'm the guy. Even though I am. I'm picking it because I've got a kind of a Christmas Eve tradition."

"Really," she said, "An extra helping of hush puppies at Cap'n Jack's Fish Shack?"

"I'm hurt, sweetheart," he said. "Really hurt. You don't think I know any restaurants with tables?"

"I'm sure you do," she said. "I just think they've all got 'and Grille' in the name."

"That's where you're wrong," he said. "This place is fancy enough, even for you."

"In fact," he went, "I'm willing to bet, after tonight you'll be begging me to take you again."

She tripped over her own feet. She barely managed to catch herself before sprawling headlong into a family in matching plaid sweaters.

Bill turned around and gave her a curious look.

"Lose your place, Davidson?" he said. "It's left-right, left-right."

She narrowed her eyes.

"I'm going to ignore that," she said a little breathlessly. "But I want to get this straight. If I like the dinner, you win. If I say we would've been better off with Cap'n Jack's, I win?

"Bingo," he said.

"Deal," she said and stuck out her hand.

His long fingers closed around hers. His palm was surprisingly warm and soft.

"So let's talk stakes," he said, releasing her hand.

He stared into space for a moment, apparently considering the options. She tried not to notice the gold flecks in his hazel eyes.

"Okay, here's the scenario," he said, and grinned as she cocked an eyebrow.

"Winner picks up the check for dinner," he said. "Loser has to make desert."

She frowned.

"That doesn't sound right," she said. "Shouldn't the loser buy dinner?"

He snorted.

"You've gotta pay attention, Davidson. I said the loser 'makes' desert, not 'buys' desert."

"And," he added. "It'll be tiramisu."

"Not if I win," she said. "I like lemon cake."

He rolled his eyes.

"Spare me," he said. "It's tiramisu. Do we need to stop at the market on the way to your place?"

Pam felt her stomach do a rapid flip-flop.

"Why are we going to my place?" she asked slowly.

"So you can change," he said.

"Change?" she said, more surprised than she would have expected by the idea.

"Yeah. " he said. "Your clothes."

He cocked an eyebrow and cast a look down her frame. She was suddenly acutely aware of the washer-worn state of her faded jeans and chunky oatmeal-colored sweater.

"You look real cute and comfy there," he said. "But I know how you girls are. If I don't tell you to dress up now, you're gonna be mad later."

"Dress up, huh?" she said, cocking an eyebrow in return. "In that case, I'm impressed already."

She stepped out into the terminal, saying, "What are we talk-"

Her words broke off in a sharp gasp as his arm shot out and grabbed her around the waist. She felt herself lifted and jerked back as if weightless.

A skycap on a fully loaded baggage trolley shot across her path so close she could feel the breeze as it passed.

She was set her back on her feet and she stood, breathing heavily. Bill was at her shoulder again, looking down with a curious expression.

"'I'm starting to worry about you, Davidson," he said. "You're supposed to be too smart to step in front of a speeding car."

He started walking again, covering the ground in rangy strides. She stood still for a moment then, with a start, set off after him, trotting to catch up.

He was saying something about a "sequence," but she didn't try to follow his words. She couldn't hear anything but the same thought repeating in her head.

He lifted me right off the ground with one arm, she thought. And it was effortless.

At that moment, spending the evening with Bill Maxwell sounded like the mental equivalent of wearing a sandpaper shirt over a third degree sunburn. Unfortunately, she was highly aware that her mind and her body weren't on speaking terms at the moment. And her body had its own opinions.

-----------------

The ride to her apartment was filled with tense half-conversations.

"So, your folks are in Hawaii?"

"Yes, Oahu. Have you been there?"

"Nah. We got plenty of palm trees right here."

And so on.

This was so diametrically opposed to the evening she had planned it was like a Folger's coffee commercial as done on Saturday Night Live. She could almost hear Dan Ackroyd as the smarmy announcer saying:

"We've replaced this woman's bath water with a tub full of live bees. Let's see if she notices…"

It wasn't until they were riding up in the elevator to her apartment, that an important question occurred to her. She turned to Bill, standing placidly beside her.

"Do you know if this place is open on Christmas Eve?" she said.

"Yep," he said without hesitation. "Been there before on Christmas Eve. And lots of other Eves. I go pretty often."

She saw him shoot her a sidelong glance and look away quickly.

"Uh, there's just one thing-" he said.

She held up a hand.

"Wait, let me guess," she said. "They know you as 'Mad Dog Maxwell'?"

She saw his mouth quirk in a grin.

"Oh, no, it's not 'Maxine' is it?" she said.

He snorted.

"Let's see, you've been forbidden to ever darken their door again?" she said.

"No, least not yet," he said, "In fact, they seem to like to see me."

She made a little 'o' of mock surprise.

"Imagine that!" she said.

He snorted.

"Yeah, hard to picture, I know."

"Well, then what's left?" she said and snapped her fingers. "It's a biker bar and you have to have a tattoo to get in!"

"Hey, you guessed it," he said. "Now, you have a choice of a snake or a flaming skull, only you don't get to choose where they put it."

She laughed and the elevator made a "bing" sound and slid to a stop. The doors slipped open and they stepped out into the carpeted hall.

"You know, I should just tell you what the place is," Bill said as he followed her up the hall to her door.

"No!" she said quickly, "Don't do that. I want to be surprised."

She felt in her purse for her keys.

"Okay," he said. "I won't tell you what it is, but there's one thing you do need to know."

"Well," she said, slotting her key into the lock. "It looks like I'm not going to guess, so you'd better tell me."

She stepped into the apartment and flicked on the light switch.

"Sorry about the mess," she said, dropping her keys on the console table by the door as she inclined her head to a stack of boxes against the wall. "I'm starting to pack already."

When he didn't answer, she turned around. He was standing just inside the doorway surveying the room with wide eyes. She followed his traveling glance as it passed over her lacquered coffee table, the slubbed silk drapes, the color coordinated landscapes.

"Have you never been here before, Bill?" she said suddenly.

"Uh, no," he said. "Uh, uh."

"Are you sure?" she said frowning. "You must have been here at least once."

"No," he said slowly, staring at the bookcase by the kitchen with wide eyes. "I'd definitely remember the, uh, big gold cow there."

He blinked and gave his head a little shake.

"Uh, didn't you have a house?" he said, continuing his survey of the room.

"Not for a while," she said, moving into the kitchen and switching on the light. "I sold it when Ralph and I got engaged."

"Besides, the attic leaked," she said under her breath.

She looked back out into the living room and saw him peering around the floor.

"What are you looking for?" she called.

"The, uh," he cleared his throat. "The cat. Is it- he around?"

"You mean Lefty?" she said from the doorway.

He looked up.

"Yeah, good old Lefty," he said, his jaw tightening. "Is he here?"

She shook her head.

"No, I couldn't bring him to the apartment. I gave him to my niece."

"Oh, That's too bad," he said. Pam saw his shoulders relax as he sat down on the edge of the sofa.

"Right," she said. "It's sweet of you to pretend."

"Do you want a drink?" she said, moving back into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I think we got time for one," he said. "Bourbon. No ice. Thanks."

She pulled two highball glasses from the dishwasher and carried them through to the bar. Bill was still sitting on the edge of the sofa, hands hanging loosely between his knees, gazing out the wide picture window that lined one wall of the living room.

"Hey," she said, setting the glasses down on the glass bar top, "About my outfit…"

Bill looked up suddenly, as if startled out of a light trance. For just an instant, the tightly controlled tension that was his normal state had evaporated. His face was perfectly open. In light of his clear gaze, her breath caught in her throat. Then the moment passed.

His face set in the classic, Bill Maxwell, tight-jawed, semi-belligerent expression she knew so well.

"What about it?" he said.

"Exactly how dressed up do you mean?" she said, carrying over his drink. "Are we talking skirt and blouse or taffeta ball gown?"

Bill took a long sip and gave a satisfied sigh. Then he looked up with wide, innocent eyes.

"Got anything with sequins?" he said.

----------------

- continued -

el Tango de Los Angeles

(Tango of the Angels)