Skin Dancer by Carolyn Haines

half as smart as Moe.”
    # # #
    The candles lit the table with a glowing luminescence. Outside, thunder rumbled and rain pounded the windows, but at Frankie’s dinner table, conversation softened the sounds of the storm. It was a select gathering, one more step on the yellow brick road to the Emerald City of Paradise. She rolled one shoulder, then the other. She’d had a busy few days with lots of physical exertion.
    â€œFrankie, are you going to be able to keep the four–lane on track?” Harvey Dilson’s question cracked like a whip amidst the genteel murmur of her guests.
    She met his gaze. Her family had known him since his first election to the state house. Power had coarsened his features and sharpened his tongue. Harvey was used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it.
    She gave him a cool smile. “Let’s save that for later, Harvey, and talk about more pleasant things.” Several of the multi–million dollar investors in the Paradise project—and in Dilson’s political future–were at the table, yet Harvey didn’t have sense enough to keep his mouth shut. “How is your re–election campaign shaping up?” she asked.
    His blue eyes were flinty, but he nodded his head, the candlelight catching in his silver mane. “I never underestimate an opponent, but I don’t see any serious problems ahead.”
    â€œYou have the advantage of incumbency,” Frankie noted. “The people of this region have come to rely on you to look out for their best interests.”
    â€œSenator Dilson, is it true that the new highway is your idea?” The woman who spoke was young and beautiful, her thick auburn hair pulled back from her face by exquisite pearl barrettes. Her tone was sharp. “I hear you stand to sell a good bit of property for the right of way.”
    â€œYoung lady, are you an investor in Paradise?” Harvey leveled his gaze at her.
    Frankie arched an eyebrow. “Harvey, Justine’s parents are the cardiac specialists in the valley. She graduated early and returned to the area after finishing her master’s at Yale. Business, wasn’t it, Justine?”
    â€œAccounting.” Her gaze never left the senator. “My parents supported your campaign last election, and we have some concerns about this four–lane. So I ask you again, was the new roadway your idea?”
    Conversation at the table stalled. Frankie considered taking action to put the dinner party back on foot, but she rather enjoyed the discomfort that now marred Harvey’s features. He wasn’t used to being confronted, especially by someone young, passionate, idealistic and female, which was exactly why she’d invited Justine. A successful dinner party depended on the proper mix of guests. Justine’s youth and brains balanced Harvey’s political power. If Harvey couldn’t handle her, it would at least provide for a bit of entertainment.
    â€œYoung lady, the road is necessary for future development in our area. Paradise is a dream, a pollution free industry that will grow our economy in ways you can’t begin to comprehend. Folks won’t live in a place where access is difficult.”
    Justine speared a tender asparagus tip and daintily ate it. “You make several points, Senator, which are completely inaccurate. First of all, any development that requires miles and miles of asphalt to prepare for thousands of polluting automobiles is not what I’d call pollution free. Secondly, we already live in paradise; we don’t need a high–tech city. Why change perfection? Tell me, why do politicians equate growth and development with progress?”
    Frankie watched the reactions of her guests with casual alertness. Richard Jones, the man with the Midas touch when it came to computer technology, had stopped eating completely. Paradise was his dream, his concept, his existence. And he was riveted by Justine. He was