When the dance music started back up again a few minutes later, Oli excused himself from his conversation with the reticent Dom Vincent and turned to Alex. "What do you say to throwing the loser a crumb? Want to dance?"

She glanced at Bobby, who shrugged but managed at the same time to look at Oli with narrowed eyes. "I want her back when you're done."

Alex gave his shoulder a push. "Oh, go get Annie to shrink your head some more. I'll have to come back, anyway - you're my ride home."

"Ok, Lassie," Oli said with a snort. "Enough with the goodbyes, I want my dance."

"Anyone ever tell you about a little thing called 'patience'?" she asked archly as she took his arm and followed him onto the dance floor.

"Yeah, but I decided it was a waste of time." He grinned down at her as he took her hand. "You're a lot shorter when you're not sitting on a bar stool, you know that?"

"So I hear. It works out ok, though. People underestimate me, but then I get to show them up."

"Like Jimmy Willis at dinner?"

"Exactly."

He looked thoughtful. "Maybe that's why Bobby's so protective of you."

"What, because I'm short? Nah, he's like that with all of his friends. I don't think he'd dare try to protect me from something he knew I could handle myself. Mostly because he knows I'd kill him afterward."

Oli winced dramatically. "Maybe we should all chip in to get you a punching bag for your birthday."

She shrugged. "No, I think I'll stick to beating up my date when I feel the need to hit something."

"For real?" he said, almost missing a step. "You don't . . ."

She freed one of her hands from his and gave him a playful whack in the side of the head. "Of course not for real! Trust me, if I made it through being groped by Jimmy Willis without hitting him, you know I know better ways to blow off steam than punching someone."

This time he did miss a step. "He groped you?"

"Tried to," she told him airily, "in a fumbling, too-scared-to-really-try-anything way."

He didn't doubt that she could take care of herself, but still . . . "Does Bobby know about that?"

" 'Course. He was sitting right next to me, it'd be hard to miss."

"And he didn't do anything?"

She sighed. "You really aren't getting the hang of how he and I operate, are you?"

"Uh, guess not."

"He didn't do anything because I told him not to. If he'd said something, it would have become an open conflict, and that would have been dumb when I could handle it by myself without making it a big deal."

"What," he said, shaking his head wonderingly, "are you two telepathic, in addition to everything else? I was at the table the whole time and I don't remembering you saying anything like that to him."

"That's because I didn't," she said dispassionately. "I didn't have to; he already knew."

"I give up," Oli said resignedly. "You're not going to tell me whatever your secret communication method is. Hey, does it involve blinking a certain number of times for yes and a different number for no?"

"No, it involves me hitting him in the leg to remind him that he better not lose his temper." She blinked, realizing she'd just told him what he wanted to know. "Real smooth, Oli."

"Thanks, I thought so."

"How about you try dancing instead of pumping me for information?"

"Just call me Fred Astaire."

Bobby watched Oli lead Alex toward the dance floor and tried to hide his sigh.

"What's wrong?" Annie asked from near his shoulder. "You can't stand to be separated from her for a three minute dance?"

He shook his head. "No, it's not that. Well, I mean, I'd rather have her stay by me, but I can deal with three minutes alone."

"So then . . . what's the problem?" She glanced up at Bobby's close-lipped expression, then over at her husband a few feet away. "Mike, would you go get us some drinks?"

Mike cleared his throat and pointedly looked at Bobby a second too long, but did as she asked, heading for the bar.

"Ok, so quick, before he comes back," she said briskly, looking back at Bobby, "what's the problem?"

He sighed. "The things you said to Alex earlier . . ."

"Ah, so you finally grew enough balls to talk to her. Good for you!" She clapped him on the shoulder genially. "So, uh . . . why don't you look happy? Don't tell me she turned you down."

"No. Well, I didn't give her the chance."

Annie took her hand off his shoulder and gave him an accusing look. "You ran away? After I spent the whole damn night trying to set you two up?"

He held his hands up in supplication. "I didn't run. Neither did she. We agreed that we need to talk . . . just not tonight."

"You can't put it off, Bobby."

"Why not?" he replied, trying to sound carelessly confident instead of uncomfortably insecure.

" 'Why not,' indeed!" announced a new female voice. Annie watched, thunderstruck, as Janet Stapleton appeared from behind Bobby, smiling coquettishly and deliberately brushing against his arm as she moved to stand between him and Annie.

Bobby eased away a step and looked wordlessly at the newcomer. Across from him, Annie was giving the woman a disdainful look.

"Boooobby," Janet cooed breathlessly. "I thought you had left with that woman . . . and now I find that she left you! Don't worry, I'll keep you company so you're not alone tonight."

He was cursed. That could be the only explanation. Someone, somewhere, had placed a hex on his life so that every time he almost felt content, someone came along and ruined it. "I don't think that's a good idea, Janet. You sound drunk, maybe you should consider -"

"Going to bed?"

Annie watched helplessly, not sure whether to be amused or horrified, as Janet finished the sentence for him as she ran a hand up his arm in a blatant attempt to be seductive.

"I was going to suggest you find Jimmy and ask him to bring you home," Bobby replied in what he hoped was a neutral voice.

"Oh, Jimmy's boring! And he got fat, too," she pouted. "I like you better."

"Who doesn't?" Annie snorted, earning herself a malevolent look from the other woman. "You know . . ." she added, noting the discomfort on Bobby's face, "I think I'm going to go find Mike. You two kids have fun, 'kay?" There. If that didn't teach Bobby a lesson about procrastinating when she asked him a question, nothing would. She gave him a grin, wiggled her fingers in a wave, and disappeared into the crowd in search of her husband.

"Ahh," Janet purred, "alone at last. Dance with me, Bobby."

"I don't think that's a good idea. You're pretty unsteady on your feet," he told her, trying to avoid having to reject her directly. She was drunk and inconsiderate, but his conscience reminded him that she hadn't actually done anything really unpleasant to him or Alex tonight other than ask leading questions.

"Then I'll lean on you," she announced with a hint of triumph. "I want to . . . learn more about you tonight!" She tugged on his arm with surprising strength, startling him into taking an unsteady step after her. "Come on!"

He searched desperately for an escape route, but a few seconds later, found himself on the dance floor. He could remain polite for the length of a short dance, he told himself. That was, if she didn't try to wrap herself around him like she was currently doing. He stifled a groan of annoyance and searched the crowd for someone, anyone, who could come save him.

She wasn't expecting to hear the raw choking sound, and when Oli made a noise like he'd just swallowed his tongue, she jumped in surprise. "What the . . .?"

He continued to stare over her shoulder, dumbfounded, for a second before he pulled his eyes away and looked down at her. "Look over your left shoulder."

She did as ordered, eyes skimming the dance floor for the source of Oli's astonishment. Then she caught sight of it: Bobby and Janet, doing something that resembled dancing only in the vaguest way. Really, it had more in common with a game of tug of war. As he had been doing when she'd come upon him and Janet before dinner, Bobby was leaning his upper body as far away from her as he could; however, Janet seemed to be more determined this time and for every inch he tried to move away, she countered it with a movement toward him.

"Oh my god," Alex choked out after gaping at the pair for a second. "Oli, are her hands on his butt?"

Oli, his body shaking with silent laughter, managed a nod. "I take it all back. You don't need him to protect you - heneeds you to protect him!"

"Looks like I'm going to have to," she agreed, watching as Bobby tried to force Janet's hands up to somewhere less indecent. "Shall we?" Without waiting for Oli to answer, she adjusted her dance steps so that they were moving together to the side and then forward.

"What exactly are you going to do?" he asked.

"That," she said thoughtfully, "is a very good question. I'm open to suggestions."

"Normally, I'd suggest you force Janet to switch partners, but there's no way I'm letting her get that close to me tonight." He shuddered dramatically at the thought. "Ugh, definitely not letting her near me," he reiterated as they watched Janet try to kiss Bobby's neck and Bobby's look of discomfort morph into one closer to disgust.

"Well, there goes the best option," she responded with a sigh, trying to decide whether to laugh at Bobby's predicament or forcefully remove said predicament from where it was wrapped around his body. "I guess I could pretend I'm sick."

"Yeah, but then you'd have to go into the ladies room, and he can't follow you in there but Janet can."

They were jostled as they tried to slip between two couples dancing with more enthusiasm than self-control, and Oli smirked when he saw Alex absentmindedly elbow aside the man who danced into her path. "Watch it, buddy. Geez," she muttered, looking back at Oli, "I don't know how some people manage to get past their twenties without learning how much alcohol is too much for them

He snapped his fingers. "That's it."

"What's what?" she asked, confused about his reaction to her rhetorical statement.

"You can be drunk. That way you don't have to go to the bathroom, you just need him to, like, help you walk and stuff. Janet hasn't seen you since dinner, she has no idea how much alcohol you consumed - or didn't consume - since then."

"Oooh." She paused, considering that. "You're good. I think that'll work. How drunk should I be? Almost-sick, or just really dizzy and giggly?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Personally, I want to see you do 'dizzy and giggly.' Somehow I can't picture it on you."

She grinned. "You should see my ditzy college student act."

"You're right," he said steering them closer to Bobby and Janet. "I think I'd enjoy seeing you act ditzy even more than I'm going to enjoy seeing you act giggly." They glanced over at their target at the same time, then looked back at each other and exchanged crafty smiles. "Ready to be drunk?" he whispered into her ear as they approached their goal.

As her answer, Alex purposely tripped over her own feet, lurching forward into Oli and knocking him, in turn, into Janet's side. "Ready," she whispered back, just before she giggled, let go of his hand, and made a semi-controlled swan dive into Bobby's arms. "Hey, partner," she slurred as he stared down at her.