False Pretenses by Catherine Coulter

that includes Harley stock. She already ownsabout ten percent and will get even more in the settlement.”
    â€œHow soon?”
    â€œA while yet. The divorce is just getting started, according to our sources. We’ll just have to wait awhile. When we move, it’ll be fast.”
    â€œThis one will be hostile?”
    â€œThat’s for sure. And, Elizabeth, not a word to anyone. Not even to Kogi or Gallagher or Drake.”
    Adrian saw that she looked upset, and rather helpless, a look he hadn’t seen in several weeks. He softened just a bit. “Look, why don’t you just forget the entire business for now. It will be several months yet. Just put it out of your mind, and don’t worry.”
    Because Elizabeth wanted to forget all of it, she did put it out of her mind. She went on a baroque kick, immersing herself in Bach, back in the eighteenth century, when things were simple and there were no such things as white knights or black knights or any other color.
    She had her music and Rowe Chalmers, and signed her name when Adrian placed papers in front of her. Her hours in the beautiful corner office decreased.
    She was content.
    She thought about marriage and a home and children.
    She asked Rowe on Saturday evening, “When will I meet your parents?”
    He paused a moment, and she saw the flicker of something she read as appalling in his eyes. Before he could answer her, she said, forcing a small tight smile, “It’s all right, Rowe. It’s too soon, I was foolish to forget. To your parents, I’m that scarlet woman, or whatever. After all, I was acquitted, found not guilty, but the murderer wasn’t unveiled like he always is on Perry Mason. ” She’d begun watching Perry Mason reruns every day at noon. It was like a daily catharsiswhen the real murderer spilled his or her guts in the final two minutes of the show.
    Not real life at all.
    â€œJust a while longer, my darling,” he told her.
    But his parents had to know about them, she thought. They’d been photographed several times and written up in clever articles that made her want to yell with the unfairness of it all. To protect him, she’d asked each of her Noble Six to escort her now and again. And the papers made it seem like she was the Merry Widow.
    And there was nothing, absolutely nothing from Christian Hunter. Instead of making her feel relieved, deep inside she knew fear. She could forget him for hours at a time, but when she remembered, the fear blossomed and she was swamped with anxiety. She wanted to call him, but she was too afraid.
    Life went on as it inevitably did, but unpleasantness didn’t touch her. Until one Friday night.
    Adrian and his wife, Elaine, invited her out to dinner, and because Rowe was out of town, she accepted. Elaine was a small, vivacious woman who ordered her huge husband around like a puppy. Elizabeth liked her and did her best to make the woman feel at ease with her. They went to Chanterelle, a small restaurant in Soho with nouvelle French cuisine. Elizabeth ate oysters with white truffles, and conversation centered on the Marshs’ home life and their two children.
    Then Elizabeth spotted Catherine. She was with the same man as before, many months before when Elizabeth had been with Rod Samuels at the Quilted Giraffe. They appeared to be arguing.
    â€œElizabeth, what’s wrong?”
    She pulled herself back to Adrian’s concerned voice. She found she was hunching down in her chair, raising her wineglass so it hid her profile. She shook her head and tried to smile.
    â€œIs someone here you don’t like?” Afraid of is morelike it, Adrian thought, growing more concerned. Such a small restaurant, off the beaten path. Still Elizabeth only shook her head again, and asked Elaine a domestic question.
    Adrian looked about and spotted Catherine Carleton. He knew about her, of course. Beautiful, young, spoiled. Even though they’d just