he murmured, his eye perusing the chic decor as he moved confidently to the center of the living room. Her own appraisal was no less sharp, encompassing the fine fabric of his formal tux, its satin-striped pant legs emphasizing his length, the starched white shirt, now opened at the neck to exaggerate his even tan, stressing the broad expanse of shoulder beneath. But neither the elegance of his dress nor the sureness of his step could hide the obvious. “You look tired.” Her quiet evaluation brought a wry smile to his lips. “Believe it or not, this is my fourth stop this evening. There was a cocktail party at the home of the chairman of the state committee—” his fingers were counting them off, one by one, “—then a reception at the aircraft executives’ club, then a dinner—a small one for forty people,” he mocked, “at the home of one of my supporters in West Hartford. You don’t happen to have a cup of coffee, do you?” Incredulity held Daran immobile. Eyes widened, she could only stare at this unexpected visitor.
