Seth Westcott was her live-in lover, an artist with a difficult temperament, and Jane knew their cluttered loft would be much more peaceful if she could tell him that the fifty-thousand-dollar grant from Kane's newspaper was going to be his. Besides, you know you're dying to find out if Seth gets the grant.' 'Forgive you? Don't be silly, he knows me too well to ever blame anyone else for my tricks.

'Serena, why don't we just forget the bet this time? If you go and do something crazy, Richard will never forgive me.' Jane, knowing her friend rather well, began to regret her own impulsive challenge. With the frankness that often startled people because her appearance made them believe she was too elegant and haughty to ever speak bluntly, she said, 'I don't think he could find his butt with both hands and a flashlight.' 'Oh, no? Look, friend, we both know he's virtually pickled after years of drinking, but he was a crackerjack investigative reporter once upon a time, and some of the old instincts might still be there.' 'He'll never guess what I'm after,' Serena retorted confidently. And if he realizes you're just after information, next week's column will make you look like the whore of Babylon.' There's no way he'll dance with you, let alone spill the beans about the grant. Serena, Jeremy Kane uses his column to trash anybody he hates, and since that model broke up with him, he hates every woman still alive and breathing.

Jane Riley, an attractive and vivacious brunet, giggled, but then suddenly looked nervous. It was one of many bets between the two young women since they had met in high school years before, lighthearted and, as usual, challenging Serena's uncanny ability to get information, or anything else she wanted, from a man. Serena Smyth lifted an eyebrow at her friend, her catlike green eyes alight with amusement.

The wizard of seattle by kay hooper