"That is a huge boundary violation," I said indignantly.

"A what?"

"That means I don't make any comments about the kind of women you date, and you have no right to judge my choices."

"Yeah, but — " Jack stopped and scowled. "You're right. It's none of my business. It's just . . . I'd like you to find some nice guy with no weird f**kin' baggage."

I had to laugh. My irritation vanished, and I reached over to pat his hand. "If you ever meet one," I said, "let me know."

My cell phone rang, and I fished it out of my purse. "Bye, Jack," I said, and flipped the phone open. "Hello?"

"Haven."

The sound of Hardy's voice gave me a subtle, pleasurable jolt. "Hi," I said, and damned myself for sounding breathless.

Jack, who'd been in the process of leaving, stopped at the doorway and shot me a curious glance. I waved for him to go on, but he stayed where he was, watching and listening.

I adopted a brisk, professional tone. "Do you have a question about the apartment? I'll give you Samantha's number — "

"I've already got her number. I want to talk to you."

"Oh." I fiddled with a pen on the desk. "How can I help you?"

"I need a recommendation for someone who can come in and fix up the apartment — pick out the furniture, colors, that kind of stuff."

"An interior decorator?"

"Yeah, but a good one. The one I hired for my last apartment charged a fortune, and it ended up looking like a Fort Worth bar."

"And that's not your style?"

"No, it's exactly my style. That's the problem. I need an image upgrade."

"You don't need to worry about that," I said. "The formal look is out. Casual and comfortable is fine."

"I have a sofa that once roamed the open range."

I couldn't help laughing at that. "You mean cowhide? Oh, God. You do need help." I thought of Todd. "I know someone — but he's not cheap."

"That's okay, as long as he's good."

"Would you like me to call him for you and set up something?"

"Thanks. That would be great. And as a favor would you be there with me when I meet him?"

I hesitated, my fingers tightening on the pen. "I don't think I'd be much help."

"I need your opinion. My kind of decorating usually involves fur, skins, and horns. You have no idea what I could be talked into.

"All right," I said reluctantly. "I'll be there. When are you free?"

"I'm tied up the rest of today and tomorrow, finishing up an AFE. So the next day or anytime after that would be fine."

"What's an AFE?"

"Authority for expenditure form. Basically it's all the estimates for drilling and completing a well, including salaries, services, and equipment. You can get screwed six ways to Sunday if you don't get the AFE right and make sure everyone follows it. It's real important for a smaller company with a limited budget."

"So are you the one who makes sure everyone follows the AFE?"

"Yeah, I'm the heavy," Hardy admitted. "Neither of my partners are good at it — one's a geophysicist and sticks to the science stuff, and the other one can't handle confrontation. So it's up to me. I figure I haven't managed a project right unless I get a few death threats along the way."

"I bet you're good at confrontation," I said.

"I have to be, sometimes. But I'm not that way by nature."

"Sure," I told him, smiling skeptically. "I'll call you later with the appointment time."

"Okay, boss."

The smile was still tucked in the corners of my lips as I looked up and saw Jack there. I couldn't tell it he was frowning or scowling — but it was not a happy expression.

"Don't tell me you were just talking to Hardy Cates," Jack said.

"I was just talking to Hardy Cates. What about it?"

"I haven't heard you giggle like that since high school."

"I wasn't giggling," I said defensively. "I never giggle. And before you say anything else, remember my personal boundaries."

"You make sure Cates remembers about your personal boundaries," Jack muttered, and left my cubicle.

"You know, " Todd said, "I've had lots of clients who have crappy taste in decorating. But they never want to admit it. They hire me and then they waste a lot of time arguing over the design scheme. This is the first client who's ever admitted he has crappy taste."

"I think he may actually be proud of it," I said.

We were riding up in the elevator to the eighteenth floor, where we were going to meet Hardy at his new apartment. "Did I tell you what Beebe Whitney said when I told her that I was doing his apartment?" Todd asked.

Back in high school, Beebe had been the most beautiful girl at Lamar, not to mention head cheerleader and class princess. She had been married in one of Houston's biggest weddings ever and had divorced eleven months later.

"No, what?"

"She said, 'You may be doing his apartment, Todd, but I've done him.'"

My mouth fell open. "Beebe Whitney slept with Hardy Cates?" I whispered, scandalized.

Todd's blue green eyes sparkled with relish. "A one-night stand. They met on her divorce-moon."