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different with Steve instead of the office gang. A tremor of anticipation shook her.
    “Great. I’ll pick you up around seven.” That meant erasing the name already written in his pocket calendar, but that was okay. He always used pencil, never pen, for his social engagements. Pencil was freedom and subject to change; ink was permanence, commitment and obligation.
    He wasn’t aware that he’d reached for a pen to write in Michelle’s name until he saw the ink on his pocket calendar’s Friday square. He felt slightly spooked for a moment, but swiftly disregarded it. He’d never found any relevance or credence in so-called Freudian slips. As far as he was concerned, they were as hocus-pocus as Ouija boards, tea leaves and palm reading.
    And chain letters. He grimaced as he crumpled up the one he’d just opened and tossed it into the trash just as a gum-chewing Saran led the irate chief counsel into his office.

Two
    Steve timed his arrival at Michelle’s apartment for a strategic 7:13 p.m., not too late to be insulting yet definitely, deliberately not on time. Arriving early, of course, was unthinkable. It could be disastrous if a woman got the idea that he was chomping at the bit to be with her!
    Michelle was running late. The ramifications of a five o’clock phone call had kept her in the office till nearly 6:30. Traffic was unusually snarled and she burst into her apartment at two minutes past seven, grateful that Steve hadn’t arrived yet.
    She groaned when the doorbell rang at 7:13. If only he’d been a little later! As it was, she had just pulled on her dress, she was shoeless, and hadn’t even started on her hair or makeup.
    “Hi! I’m so sorry I’m not ready yet,” Michelle greeted him distractedly at the door. “It was crazy at the office today and I had to stay late. And naturally, traffic was the worst because I was in a hurry.”
    She reminded herself to smile. This was a date. She was supposed to be anticipating a good time, not feeling harassed.
    So much for his tactical arrival, Steve noted dryly. She hadn’t even noticed the time, unless it was to hope he’d be later. He was slightly disconcerted. His dates were usually ready and waiting for him at the door when he made his shrewdly timed arrival.
    “If you want to help yourself to something to drink, I’ll hurry and finish getting dressed,” Michelle said, already heading toward the bathroom.
    Steve blinked. He’d hardly gotten a glimpse of her. She’d come and gone so quickly, she had been little more than a blur. He glanced around the small living room. It was neat but undistinguished, furnished with garage sale pieces mixed with the kind of new furniture sold in discount warehouses. His own place was similarly furnished. Who wanted to spend time and money on decorating? Leave that to the married couples who seemed to thrive on such projects.
    He looked at the collection of picture frames grouped on an end table and wondered who all the smiling faces were. If Michelle was around, he could have asked her, but she had immediately made herself unavailable. Steve frowned. He wasn’t accustomed to being left to his own devices in a woman’s apartment. Usually, he was smothered with attention.
    It occurred to him that, for the women he usually dated, his appearance was the highlight of their day. Maybe even their week. His dates were the living-for-the-weekend kind of girls who had little or no interest in their jobs, girls who just wanted to have fun. His arrival signaled the beginning of their real life.
    But Michelle had a job that she took seriously, one that involved her and engaged her. She had a life that extended beyond the fun of the weekend. She hadn’t taken the afternoon off to do her hair and her nails or to shop for a new outfit to wear for him. He knew from his own work experience that if she had stayed late at the office, her attention had been on the project at hand, not on him.
    Such were the drawbacks of dating a