wife?"
"That's easy. Josephine."
He looked at her suspiciously but with a gleam of amusement in his eye. "Have you memorized these cards?"
"Are you kidding? Look how many there are. Tell him, Nemo. Tell him I'm playing fair. Besides, I'm bound to miss one. Sooner or later." She took another token and rolled the dice again.
Ryder studied another card. "This is a good one. What does a nihilist believe in?"
Amanda frowned, working it out in her mind. "A nihilist? Nihilist. Annihilate. To destroy completely, to—nothing. He believes in nothing."
"Maybe we should have stuck to gin," Ryder said ruefully.
She grinned at him and took another token. "Persevere. My next category is"—she rolled the dice— "sports. Not my strong suit."
He smiled evilly after looking at the card. "How many men does a Canadian football team field?"
She didn't have to frown this time. "Now, there you've got me. I haven't the faintest idea."
"Twelve. My turn."
His category was geography. Amanda read the question silently, then giggled. "If you can answer this, you're a better man than I am, Gunga Din. What's the principal language of Trinidad and Tobago?"
Ryder blinked. "English."
"Give the man a cigar."
"I'll take a token." He did, then rolled the dice. "The category is literature."
"And the question is: What writer was nicknamed Papa?"
"Hemingway."
"Oh, a literate soul. I had no idea."
"Don't scoff. Bite her, Nemo. The next category is—entertainment. Question?"
"What symbolized justice and law to the Lone Ranger?"
" 'Who was that masked man,' " Ryder murmured almost as if by rote, then added, "A silver bullet."
Amanda tried not to think about masks. "At least you aren't gloating," she said.
"I’ll do that later. When I win."
She made a rude noise and went on to the next question. Ryder answered that and another one successfully, but was baffled by how many feet apart the stakes were for men's horseshoe pitching. Forty.
Amanda was momentarily puzzled by the question asked her, but only because her answer didn't seem to make sense. "The difference between two square miles and two miles square is—two square miles. That is—I mean, two miles square is—is actually four square miles, so the difference is two square miles."
Ryder looked at the card in his hand and nodded slowly. "Well, you're right. I'm not quite sure how you got there, but the correct answer is certainly two square miles."
"I could draw a diagram," she offered solemnly.
"No. Thank you, but no. There are some mysteries in life destined to remain so."
Amanda nodded. "Me and the sphinx. The next category is geography. Read on."
"Where's the Sea of Tranquility?"
"No earthly boundaries in this game, I see. It's on the moon. 'Tranquility Base here. The eagle has landed.' "
"It's funny how we remember some phrases so well, isn't it?" he remarked, reaching for the next card.
"I think it's because we learn by rote," Amanda said consideringly. "We learn to connect things to other things. The moon landing. Pearl Harbor."
" 'A day that will live in infamy.' " Ryder nodded. "You may be right. Ready for the next question?"
"Shoot."
"Who painted the Sistine ceiling?"
"An easy one. Michelangelo."
"Okay. What does TKO stand for?"
"Technical knockout." Amanda smiled suddenly. "I'm not totally dumb about sports. I just know a few select things." And she proved that by correctly stating that the two categories of harness racing were pacing and trotting. She had, however, no idea that there were two heads on a croquet mallet. "They have heads?"
"It says here they do." Ryder looked faintly baffled himself, but picked up the dice for his turn.
Amanda watched him, feeling relaxed and comfortable. But then he looked at her, and she was instantly conscious of the electricity arcing between them. Hastily she reached for the cards. "Urn... what travels in gaggles?"
"Geese."
He felt it too, she knew. It was in his voice, an almost imperceptible roughening, a suddenly
"That's easy. Josephine."
He looked at her suspiciously but with a gleam of amusement in his eye. "Have you memorized these cards?"
"Are you kidding? Look how many there are. Tell him, Nemo. Tell him I'm playing fair. Besides, I'm bound to miss one. Sooner or later." She took another token and rolled the dice again.
Ryder studied another card. "This is a good one. What does a nihilist believe in?"
Amanda frowned, working it out in her mind. "A nihilist? Nihilist. Annihilate. To destroy completely, to—nothing. He believes in nothing."
"Maybe we should have stuck to gin," Ryder said ruefully.
She grinned at him and took another token. "Persevere. My next category is"—she rolled the dice— "sports. Not my strong suit."
He smiled evilly after looking at the card. "How many men does a Canadian football team field?"
She didn't have to frown this time. "Now, there you've got me. I haven't the faintest idea."
"Twelve. My turn."
His category was geography. Amanda read the question silently, then giggled. "If you can answer this, you're a better man than I am, Gunga Din. What's the principal language of Trinidad and Tobago?"
Ryder blinked. "English."
"Give the man a cigar."
"I'll take a token." He did, then rolled the dice. "The category is literature."
"And the question is: What writer was nicknamed Papa?"
"Hemingway."
"Oh, a literate soul. I had no idea."
"Don't scoff. Bite her, Nemo. The next category is—entertainment. Question?"
"What symbolized justice and law to the Lone Ranger?"
" 'Who was that masked man,' " Ryder murmured almost as if by rote, then added, "A silver bullet."
Amanda tried not to think about masks. "At least you aren't gloating," she said.
"I’ll do that later. When I win."
She made a rude noise and went on to the next question. Ryder answered that and another one successfully, but was baffled by how many feet apart the stakes were for men's horseshoe pitching. Forty.
Amanda was momentarily puzzled by the question asked her, but only because her answer didn't seem to make sense. "The difference between two square miles and two miles square is—two square miles. That is—I mean, two miles square is—is actually four square miles, so the difference is two square miles."
Ryder looked at the card in his hand and nodded slowly. "Well, you're right. I'm not quite sure how you got there, but the correct answer is certainly two square miles."
"I could draw a diagram," she offered solemnly.
"No. Thank you, but no. There are some mysteries in life destined to remain so."
Amanda nodded. "Me and the sphinx. The next category is geography. Read on."
"Where's the Sea of Tranquility?"
"No earthly boundaries in this game, I see. It's on the moon. 'Tranquility Base here. The eagle has landed.' "
"It's funny how we remember some phrases so well, isn't it?" he remarked, reaching for the next card.
"I think it's because we learn by rote," Amanda said consideringly. "We learn to connect things to other things. The moon landing. Pearl Harbor."
" 'A day that will live in infamy.' " Ryder nodded. "You may be right. Ready for the next question?"
"Shoot."
"Who painted the Sistine ceiling?"
"An easy one. Michelangelo."
"Okay. What does TKO stand for?"
"Technical knockout." Amanda smiled suddenly. "I'm not totally dumb about sports. I just know a few select things." And she proved that by correctly stating that the two categories of harness racing were pacing and trotting. She had, however, no idea that there were two heads on a croquet mallet. "They have heads?"
"It says here they do." Ryder looked faintly baffled himself, but picked up the dice for his turn.
Amanda watched him, feeling relaxed and comfortable. But then he looked at her, and she was instantly conscious of the electricity arcing between them. Hastily she reached for the cards. "Urn... what travels in gaggles?"
"Geese."
He felt it too, she knew. It was in his voice, an almost imperceptible roughening, a suddenly
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