He was about to settle the bill when Anna arrived. Her eyes flashed with fury; with him, and, he guessed, with herself. He had played her very well yesterday, persuading her that he was warming to her to lower her guard just enough that he could put her out of the way for a few hours. He had brought it to an expert conclusion at dinner. He knew that she would feel embarrassed; she had offered herself to him and he had not only rejected the offer, he had turned the tables completely and used the detente between them as a means to incapacitate her. She was a beautiful girl; he doubted that she was used to being treated like that. There might have been some consolation for her if he had admitted that he found her almost irresistibly attractive, but he did not. He guessed, from the steeliness in her eyes, that she would have hit him. He would have deserved it, too. “You’re going to have to get over it,” he told her. “It was necessary. She would never have come out if we were here together.”
