In the middle of conference, at the absolute worst possible time, he felt his cell phone vibrating against his hip.

It's tonight, she's calling to cancel, something came up and I won't get to see her...

Instead of reaching for it, he smiled at the couple, who had five years and an extra hundred thousand a year on him. The husband was wearing a coat he'd had his eye on last year, and the car they had downstairs in the lot wasn't scheduled to be available to the public for another month. Getting the commission on their account would feel good, but even the electric high buzzing under his skin wasn't enough to keep his heart from sinking as the phone fell silent.

Maybe she'll leave a voicemail and I'll get to hear her...

The red light on his office phone was blinking when he returned, but Nancy and Bess didn't have his office number. Before he bothered to check it, he flipped his phone open and checked the missed call history.

Belinda.

He sighed. She hadn't left a voicemail on his cell; she never did. She called his cell and if he didn't pick up, she called his office phone and left a message there, which he had told her a hundred times not to do. But part of dating a ballerina, and one as conceited as Belinda, meant that she never actually heard anything he ever said. Obviously she hadn't gotten the memo that their relationship was supposed to be mutually monogamous either, or she simply hadn't cared.

Well, at least Nancy wasn't canceling.

"I'm coming by tonight," Belinda answered her phone when he returned her call, and he made a face.

"That is really not convenient for me."

"You are not going to leave my things unattended, Ned. I know I left that bracelet over there, and I'm coming to get it."

The best thing he had done during their relationship was change the locks. He hadn't quite figured out how she'd ever gotten a key to his apartment in the first place, because he certainly hadn't given it to her. He'd never met a woman who was quite key material, but practically any other girlfriend he'd ever had would be ranked before Belinda in that department. She had breezed in wearing white linen and dropping air kisses one Saturday while he was watching the game in his boxers, and by Saturday night he was in the home improvement store buying a new deadbolt.

"Look, I'll box everything up and bring it by CBT, whenever, tomorrow, Monday, but--"

"Not leaving it unattended," she sing-songed, with an edge in her voice, and he smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.

She's not your girlfriend anymore and you aren't ever gonna be looking for a sympathy fuck, so just dump everything on the front steps and ignore every phone call she makes after this one.

"Belinda," he began, then looked up to see his immediate supervisor standing in his doorway. "I'll call you back."

"No, I won't be around. See you at seven."

He wanted to scream what she could do at seven, but only the dial tone and his supervisor would have heard it. Instead he replaced the receiver and arranged his face into something approaching normal. He was finding it difficult to feel the same level of deference for his boss, after seeing him drink champagne from a stripper's bikini top.

"Congratulations on landing that account."

"Thanks, sir."

Black traced his thumb over the doorframe. "Heard you were gonna be at that new club tonight."

"A lot of us are going, so yeah, I was thinking about dropping by."

"I'm sure it won't be nearly as fun as last time..."

Ned simultaneously remembered that Miller was back from his honeymoon, and Black had been far too drunk to remember that Ned had ducked out pretty early on. "Yeah, I'm sure it won't be," he said, returning the knowing grin. "We'll just have to make do, I guess."

The second Black was out of his doorway, Ned pulled out his cell phone and called Bess's, and she answered in what sounded like mid-laugh. "You better not be flaking out, Nickerson."

"Not at all," he reassured her. "But I am not going to be a designated driver tonight."

"You and everyone else," Bess said, more soberly.

"And... Nancy..."

"Is still coming." Bess laughed again. "From the week she's had, she's not going to stay sober tonight, either."

"Anything I should know?"

"Nothing she probably won't tell you after three shots," Bess replied. "Look, I have..."

"Yeah," Ned said hastily, responding to the sudden hurried tone in her voice. "Yeah. Something came up, so I might be a few minutes late, but I will definitely be there tonight."

"Better be, Nickerson."

At seven o'clock the takeout had been eaten over the sink, the outfit had been perfectly assembled, and he was sitting on the couch next to a shoebox. He had, indeed, found a bracelet, and a glove, although he had no recollection of her having left either. He hadn't seen her in two weeks and the glove had been tucked between cushions in the couch, and he was just beginning to feel a little suspicious about the whole thing.

When his intercom buzzed, he picked up the phone and heard her already talking. "Be right down."

"No," she protested, and began yanking on the street door, but he hadn't buzzed her up. He locked the door behind him, the box tucked under his arm, and took the stairs in a quick shuffle.

She did look gorgeous. For the second before she opened those blood-red lips, he remembered why he'd ever asked her out. Her black hair was smooth, pulled back, her creamy shoulders bare under a delicate black wrap, every curve of her slender muscular body hugged by her gown. Then he heard her voice.

"I'm coming up."

"You are not coming up," he said firmly, maneuvering between her and the door and closing it behind him, before she could wedge her palm in and force it back open. He thrust the box at her. "Here. This is what you came for. Nice seeing you, hope you and Andre are doing great, bye."

She made a face, her heels clicking in rapid beats against the stairs as she followed him down. "I left more than this."

"No you didn't," he singsonged back, his keyring already in his hand. "I'm already late as it is."

"Ned Nickerson--" She managed to slide between him and his car just before he reached down to unlock the door, and he looked up to her face, his own darkening. "If you don't let me into your apartment right now I'm going to call the cops and tell them that you're withholding my possessions."

"Take you all day to come up with that?" Ned circled the car to the other side and unlocked the passenger door. "Give it up, Belinda."

She stomped one thin-stemmed heel on the sidewalk, her overtweezed eyebrows drawing together. "This isn't over."

Ned maneuvered over the gearshift to climb into the driver's seat, then turned the ignition and rolled his window down a quarter of an inch. "Get in my way and I will run over you, break those thin little legs, and we'll just see who makes first ballerina this season."

Her face was nearly purple with rage when he pulled away.

The apartment Nancy shared with Bess and George was just down the street from a block of casual restaurants, which made parking a nightmare. He drove around twice before following a couple back to their car, then watched in dismay as they climbed into a car parked on the street. Well, he sighed, glancing at his watch, and maneuvered into the spot just after they left it.

Nancy opened the door to him, after buzzing him up, and for a second they took each other in. She wore a blue silk halter a shade lighter than her eyes, a black leather miniskirt, and black stiletto sandals, but her hair was falling in loose waves over her bare shoulders and her makeup was understated, only the barest hint of blush and shine on her lips, cheeks, and eyelids.

"I was beginning to think you'd never show," she said, glancing back at his face again. She was smiling, though, when she stepped back. "Come on in."

Nancy's top tied just under her shoulder blades. Ned crossed his leg over his knee, trying to keep himself from staring. Not only were ballerinas high-strung and neurotic with a side of obsessive, but they generally couldn't fill out a top the way Nancy did.

"Tell me you're going to dance tonight," he found himself saying, his tone easy.

She laughed. "Oh, I'll dance," she said. "I'll drink and I'll dance and I will have a great time tonight. Well, Bess swears that last part is true, since I haven't been to this place yet."

"If Bess swears it, it must be true."

Nancy nodded at the doorway. "George had a little crisis and Bess is helping. Oh-- did you want something to drink?"

"Water, unless we're walking to the club," Ned replied. "But I'll get it."

"I'll get it," Nancy protested, and he pushed himself to his feet just as she was trying to pass him, and he linked his index finger and thumb around her bare wrist, and, oh God.

She has a boyfriend, she has a boyfriend, he told himself, searching her eyes, and they stood stock-still. Her wrist was warm under his touch. The plane of her face tilted, she blinked slowly, and with every heartbeat he waited for her to pull away, but she didn't.

Or maybe she doesn't, he thought, remembering Bess's teasing tone earlier.

"Good, you're finally here."

George's face was carefully blank when he and Nancy jumped apart. "Yeah, it was hell finding a parking space," Ned returned, as Nancy bowed her head and nearly ran to the kitchen. His hand was still open at his side.

Bess came around the corner, pulling one last curler out of her hair. "Hey Ned. Nan, get out of the kitchen, let's go!"

"Well, you weren't ready yet," Nancy called back. Her face was faintly pink when she came around the corner, a glass of water in her hand. "So now we're going?"

George volunteered to drive, and Bess said with a smile that if it wasn't too much trouble she'd claim shotgun, so Nancy and Ned ended up in the back of the car together. She perched the heel of her hand on the edge of the seat, between them, and he glanced at it, and at the hem of her black miniskirt against her tanned thigh, before he looked straight ahead at the gleaming halo of Bess's curls, smiling.

"So, Ned, how was your day?" Bess turned around in her seat to ask.

He shrugged. "It was going okay, until... hang on, I think you might know her, Nancy. Weren't you called in when that famous diamond was stolen off Katya Alexander, a few years ago?"

Nancy glanced up at him. "Well, I wasn't exactly called in," she said, but her mouth was turning up in a pleased smile. "But she was my favorite ballerina, so I wanted to help. And then it turned out that..." Nancy shook her head.

"I think she was with the company back then, because she danced in that, whatever it was... her name's Belinda?"

Nancy and Bess's faces immediately went dark, while George laughed. "Belinda, dark hair, total bitch...?"

Ned dipped his head in agreement. "She's the one. I actually dated her for a little while, and then she called me today and told me she was coming over. Didn't ask or anything. So that was unpleasant."

"I hope you broke both her legs," Nancy muttered, and Ned glanced at her in surprise.

"No, but I thought about it," he whispered back.

She turned her head so fast her hair flew, her blue eyes wide. "Oops. Did I say that out loud?"

"You dated Belinda?" Bess shook her head. "Sorry. We ought to let you out of the car right now. I'm not sure you're allowed to hang out with us anymore, if you could date her."

"Hey, it was before I knew she was crazy," Ned protested. "I guess pro ball playing and ballet just do something to people."

"You dated a pro ball player?" Bess's brow was furrowed, but Ned didn't hear or see her, not when Nancy turned to him with that look on her face.

"I guess they do," she said softly.

Ned started a tab with his second shot, and had just downed it when he saw Black across the room. Black and half the department, including Miller, who managed to look even more uncomfortable than Ned felt.

Nancy slid onto the stool next to his. "We're going out on the dance floor, I just wanted to let you know."

Ned glanced over his shoulder. Of course they would be lingering right where he'd need to pass. "You had anything to drink yet?"

She shook her head, her eyes shining. "Not yet."

"Let me get you something. What do you like?"

She shrugged. "Surprise me."

The bartender brought over a lemon drop martini. Nancy raised it to her lips, and then her eyebrows followed. "Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do."

"And what am I trying to do?" he asked, his eyes dancing, as she took her first sip.

She tossed her hair out of her face, then downed half the drink. "You buy me a martini and come in dressed all sexy, trying to get back at your bitchy ballerina ex-girlfriend."

He glanced down at his outfit. "You think this is sexy?" he returned, and he loved the way she looked when she laughed.

"Buy me another one and maybe you'll get a dance tonight."

"Well, if that's the reward, I think I'll buy you two more and make it a sure thing." He caught the bartender's eye and nodded.

"Never said it was a sure thing." She finished the martini and clicked the glass back onto the bartop. "You're awfully sure of yourself."

He met her eyes and held them steadily. "Not really," he said softly. "Not when I'm with you."

They carried the drinks to a small table at the edge of the dance floor, after managing to pass his officemates with no incident. Bess and George were seated there, watching the DJ. Bess's eyes lit up. "Ooh, is that a lemon drop martini?"

Ned glanced at Nancy, who shrugged. "Yeah," he said. "You want?"

"They're my favorite," she said, lifting one with a nod of thanks. "Nancy's second favorite."

"And what's your favorite, Nancy?" Ned asked, propping his chin up on his hand.

Bess opened her mouth, but when she glanced between the two of them she shut it again. "That's for me to know, and you to buy me drinks until you figure out."

"You think I won't?" Ned laughed. "After that dance you owe me."

"Nice try," Nancy said with a grin, then turned to George. "Come on, let's go."

George glanced back at them over her shoulder, laughing, as Nancy led her away.

Bess was right, Ned realized. After she joined her friends and the three of them danced together, they looked unbelievably sexy, and he couldn't stop watching. Neither could some of the other guys on the fringe of the crowd, which didn't bother Ned until he realized that a very drunk Black was one of them.

Kent had joined Bess, so Nancy was only dancing with George, which made it all the easier for Black to cut in. Nancy kept turning, trying to subtly tell him that she wasn't interested, but he was having for none of it. When Ned saw the first look of anger on her face, he shouldered his way through the crowd and tapped Black on the shoulder.

When he didn't respond, Ned tried again. Black had a scowl on his face until he saw Ned.

"Mind if I cut in?"

Black moved back with poor grace. "Only for a little while," he said, shooting Nancy a thinly veiled leer. She sneered, but managed to turn it into a distant smile before he saw it.

"I can take care of myself, you know," Nancy said, once they were relatively alone.

"I know," Ned replied, moving easily with her. "But I work with that guy, so I feel a little responsible. For some reason."

Nancy raised an eyebrow, dipping her hips low, and Ned's mouth went dry. "You work with a lot of pro ball players?"

He laughed. "Some," he admitted. "I've heard on good authority that he's been offered another job, though, so I hope not for too much longer."

"You got your eye on his job?"

Ned shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt," he said, letting his hand move to rest on her side, just above her hip. God, the silk was so thin. "Plus, I wouldn't be an asshole once I got it."

"You sure about that?"

"About that, yes."

When the song ended she began to move away, but he kept his hand at her side. "Hey."

"That was a dance," Nancy said, fluttering her lashes as she looked up at him.

"That was half a dance," Ned corrected her, stepping close to her. "What, you afraid of a whole one?"

Nancy lifted her chin, and he tried not to think about how easy it would be to just tilt his head down and kiss her. "I can take care of myself," she said again, raising her arms over her head, then sliding them to his shoulders. "A dance and a half."

A dance and a half turned into another, then another. Eventually Black moved off, but even after he was nowhere in sight, when one song faded into another she made no move to leave his arms.

"I think Bess really likes Kent."

He had to lean close to hear her, and from the expression in her eyes he almost thought it was intentional. "He's a good guy. Well... if you can trust my judgement, that is."

"We're all allowed a mistake or two," Nancy said, leaning in close before she pulled back again. "For a while I thought you were the one who was interested in Bess."

"Bess is a great girl too, and you can definitely trust my judgement on that," he said, and she laughed. "I just have my heart set on someone else."

The song ended, and Nancy took another step back. "I think I need a break," she said, looking away.

"Another drink?"

"That would be great."

"Any suggestion?"

She gave him a lightning-quick grin, over her shoulder, before she continued to the table. "Nice try."

When Ned was at the bar racking his brain, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see Black. "Didn't know you had a new girlfriend."

Ned debated whether he should lie to his boss or not. "She's not," he said. After a sufficient pause he added, "yet."

"So the ballerina..."

"You can have her," Ned said, clapping the other man's back. "With my blessing."

George and Nancy had their heads together when Ned returned to the table, a drink in each hand. The girls clammed up immediately, sitting back, and Ned nudged a few empty glasses aside before putting one in front of Nancy.

"Try that."

George took a swig from her longneck, then scooted her chair over to allow Ned some room. "I think you managed to get it in two."

"He did," Nancy affirmed, with a nod of her head. "Thanks."

Ned shrugged. "I like them too," he said. "That way, even if I'd missed, it wouldn't have been so bad."

Bess came over, leading Kent by the hand and laughing, when Nancy had almost finished her drink and Ned was just draining his. "Kent says it's dollar margarita night downtown, at that one club, that--"

"Oh, the one we used to go to all the time," George put in.

Bess pointed at her, nodding. "That one. We totally need to go there."

Ned glanced between George and Kent. "Is anyone cool to drive?"

When no one immediately volunteered, Bess shrugged. "We'll take a cab, it's not that far."

Ned saw the obvious problem with her plan, but didn't say anything until he flagged one down, and Bess and Kent slid inside. "I'll take the next one," he told Nancy and George. "You two go ahead."

"Nan, you can have the front," George agreed, sliding into the back and closing the door behind her.

Nancy opened the passenger door, then glanced back at Ned. "Go on ahead," she told the driver, and slammed the door.

Ned looked at her, but didn't say anything until she started rubbing her bare arms, against the wind and the hint of rain in the air. He took off his jacket and handed it to her, and for a moment she looked like she was on the point of refusal, then accepted it.

"Thanks."

Another cab pulled up and Ned opened the door, waiting for her to get in first. She slid over, her leather skirt brushing the leather seats, and smiled at him when he joined her.

"You have a rough week?"

"What makes you say that?"

Ned gave the address he had overheard Bess giving to the other driver. "You just seemed a little... on edge earlier," he finished, sitting back.

Nancy sighed. "It's... I guess I wasn't very friendly when I saw you last weekend. Things hadn't... turned out the way I wanted, and I was in a bad mood."

"Ahh. The ever elusive Frank."

"Good guess," she said. "Either it's the vodka, or you're psychic."

Ned ducked his head. "Neither," he admitted. "Bess."

Nancy shook her head and looked out the window, away from him. "You know-- God, you must think I'm desperate."

He tapped her knee lightly with his fingertips. "No," he replied. "I think Bess likes to party, I think George would be right at home in a sports bar... and I just happened to meet you at a time in your life when you wanted a little more than you have. Maybe I'm wrong, and I don't want you to misunderstand me. If he's your boyfriend, fine. I'm not trying to pressure you into anything. I'm just here to have a good time, and you and your-- colorful-- roommates, are a good time."

"'Good time'?" Nancy raised her eyebrows.

"Hey, when a guy doesn't have a bitchy girlfriend, he has to find his fun somewhere," Ned said, smiling. "It's been a while since I've hung out with girls, without having to worry about hurting feelings or giving the wrong impression."

Nancy took a deep breath, then nodded slowly. "He's my boyfriend and you're a... friend. Who buys me the occasional drink and is a very good dancer."

Ned gestured expansively. "And you're so pretty that I bet you have tons of 'friends' like that."

Nancy tilted her head. "Like that," she said, but shook her head a little. "But none quite like you."

He held her gaze until the cab driver pulled up at the other club, and the rest of their group was still waiting on the sidewalk, and Nancy scrambled out of the cab in a flash of tanned thigh and black leather while Ned paid the driver off.

They didn't talk about it again. Ned shared a few dances with George, a few with Bess, but most of them were with Nancy. Despite her nursing the margaritas, he could tell they were getting to her, especially when her hips dipped a little too close to his, when she didn't immediately step away from his hand as it rested against her side, when she looked up at him after one especially long blink with her blue eyes hazed and brilliant in the low lights and he had to count his heartbeats to keep from kissing her.

He shook his head and this time he was the one to take a step back first. "You want another drink?"

She started to nod, then swayed slightly, and he put his hand on her shoulder to steady her. "I don't know," she said. "One more and I'll probably do something stupid." Then she laughed. "Which actually sounds great right now."

He brushed her hair back from her cheek with his other hand, and his fingers rested there, and she glanced up to search his eyes. One more drink and he would definitely do something stupid. Especially when all he had to do was touch her...

He ducked his head, and the spell was broken. "Let's go sit down."

The five of them drank and danced until last call, until Nancy looked exhausted, and Bess not far behind, but Ned couldn't remember the last time he'd had as much fun. "Okay," Bess said, tossing back the last of her margarita, making a face at how watery it tasted. "Closing time. You know what that means."

"Pancakes," Nancy and George chorused, and the three girls giggled while Kent and Ned shook their heads.

Ned didn't realize how hungry he was until he had a stack of pancakes in front of him. Nancy was across the booth from him, and as he sawed off his first bite, he felt her foot brush his.

He stopped with the bite halfway to his mouth and met her eyes, which were dancing. "Sorry," she said. "There's just no foot space at all here."

Bess and George exchanged a glance and started giggling. "Right," George said, stirring her coffee. "And seven margaritas don't help."

Ned chewed thoughtfully. "So you guys do this a lot?"

Bess shrugged. "It's a good way to end a bad week," she said.

"Amen to that," Kent said, lifting his glass. "And I could swear I taste scotch in this water."

After breakfast, the sun was coming up and the five of them stood on the sidewalk next to the cab Kent had hailed. "Okay, my car's at the club."

"And mine is too," George said. "So we can go there and pick them up..."

"And my car's back at the apartment," Ned finished. "We have to take two cabs anyway. I had a great time, you guys."

Bess and George gave him a parting wave as they slid into the cab, and Kent followed in the front seat. Nancy paused, then gestured for them to go on ahead.

"What?" Nancy said defensively, when Ned raised an eyebrow. "My feet are killing me, and I bet you're gonna get back to the apartment before George does."

Ned smiled, but hailed another cab anyway. "How can I turn down that logic," he said, sweeping the door open for her.

"You can't," she said triumphantly.

Her street was much less congested when they pulled up, and Ned stood next to his car after the cab drove off, only mildly surprised when Nancy lingered there with him. "I meant what I said," he murmured. "I had a really, really good time tonight."

"I did too." Nancy started to shrug out of his jacket, but he put his hand on her arm.

"Keep it," he explained, when she looked up. "I'm sure I'll see you again."

"All right," she said, searching his eyes, and he could tell she was tired, ready to fall asleep on her feet, but the exhaustion and the slow warm buzz and the food in his belly were combining to make him think crazy things.

He lifted his arm and rested his right hand against his car, keeping his eyes steady on hers, and he was almost able to feel her arm brush against his. "Nancy," he murmured, leaning another two inches toward her, and her eyes stayed on his, and she didn't shrink back. What am I doing, he thought. Dammit...

The sound of a cab pulling up, the door slamming, those didn't register. But the sound of another voice did.

"Nancy?"

For another second their eyes stayed locked, and then she turned her head to find the source of it, and sucked in a hard breath. He realized how close they were when her cheek brushed against his, and he closed his eyes for a second before he leaned back, following her gaze to find a dark-haired guy standing ten feet away, a stormy look on his face.

"Hi Frank," Nancy sighed.