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She worked very hard. Trusting no one, she usually had to stay in her apartment near the computers twenty-four hours a day.

Naomi Bartinelli was a very lonely woman.

"Would you like a cigarette?"

"I don't smoke, remember?"

Carter smiled. "Dear me, Naomi, you limit your drinks, you watch your diet, you rarely go out and never entertain, and you don't smoke. Don't you have any vices?"

"I guess not," she said demurely. She then leaned toward him confidentially, her giant breasts threatening to escape their confinement. "I am in a strange business. Let's just say that if I were a gadfly around town, my clients would frown on it."

I'll bet they would, Carter thought, but he managed to keep a straight face.

"I do hope, Naomi, that you have at least one vice. A man can only wait so long, you know."

He could see a slight blush come into her face and then grow. He watched as the rosy hue of embarrassment crept down her neck and infused the wealth of flesh above the bodice of her dress.

Carter fought hard to keep from staring at the hypnotizing phenomenon. He had never seen a woman's breasts blush before.

He decided to push it. "Well?"

"I think," she said haltingly, "that the wait is over."

"Wonderful."

Thankfully the waiter made another appearance, making further comment unnecessary.

The food came, and along with it the wine steward. Carter kept up the act by discussing a choice of wine at great length with the sommelier. He finally decided on a relatively modest Pommard 67.

Both of them ate heartily, Naomi because of her size. Carter because he needed the food to offset the effect the drinks were beginning to have on him. He had a lot to do this particular evening, and he didn't want to handicap himself.

He checked his watch as they finished dessert and coffee. It was just past ten, time to get down to business.

The restaurant had served its purpose. He had charmed her and wined her and dined her like the cosmopolitan businessman he appeared to be.

"Naomi, will you excuse me for a moment? I must make a call… business."

"Of course."

He found a pay phone near the lounges and dialed the number from memory.

Al Garrett picked up on the first ring.

"It's me. Tonight's the night."

"Christ, it's about time!"

"All good things come to those who wait, Al."

"You can say that. At least you're gonna get laid."

"God, you're vulgar. Have you got your gear ready?"

"Hell, yes. When?"

"We're leaving here in about ten minutes. Wait at your hotel until about midnight, then come over."

"Same signal?"

"Right… lights on and off twice."

"You're sure about the dog?" Garrett asked, a tremor in his voice.

Carter chuckled. "Let's hope I am."

"Damn you, Carter."

"Bye, Al."

* * *

They cabbed it uptown to 85th Street and her apartment. It was a twenty story highrise, with a doorman and television security in the hallways and elevators.

That was nothing compared to the three locks on her door and the alarm system she shut off just inside the little entryway. But Carter knew there was still another piece of security Naomi used to guard the secrets of her little business.

He stood, all one hundred and fifty pounds of him, about five feet from Carter, his lips curled back over shiny teeth.

"My," Carter said and swallowed, "what a beautiful Doberman."

"His name is Gordo. Don't worry, he wouldn't touch anybody while I'm in the apartment."

"And when you're not?"

"He's trained to kill." She said it almost as an afterthought.

Gordo was the big reason that Carter had been forced to play Casanova to obtain the information they needed. The AXE break-in boys had figured out how to breach nearly all the security without Naomi Bartinelli knowing they had been there.

Gordo the Doberman had been the stumbling block.

"Go on in, Nick, it's all right."

"You're sure?"

"Of course," she giggled. "Give me your coat."

He did, and approached Gordo. "Would you mind telling him to cover up his teeth?"

"Gordo."

Amazing. The stump of a tail started to wag, and the tongue lolled out to do a number on Carter's hand. His fingers were dripping by the time Naomi moved in behind him and molded her big body against his back.

Carter turned around, and she shifted a little on her toes to bring her lips to his.

She didn't have to lift far.

Her tongue forced its way between his lips, and the wealth of her breasts pressed hotly against his chest.

The fire started building within his body immediately, but it was matched by the sudden knowledge that all her caution and shyness had been thrown to the winds.

"You don't fool around once you make up your mind, do you, Naomi."

"No. I've been waiting too long."

"Where's the bedroom?"

"There."

"And the bar?"

"There."

"Why don't you just slip off your… shoes, prop a pillow against the headboard, and get comfortable?" he suggested casually. "I'll fix the drinks. What would you like?"

"Just a Perrier and lime for me," she said, then pecked him again on the lips. "I don't want to dull my senses."

With a little laugh she was gone, and Carter headed for the bar. Gordo trailed along with him, watchful, but he was rubbing Carter's leg, and the tail was now going like crazy.

"Nice Gordo, nice doggie."

The tongue soaked his hand again.

Carter checked out the apartment while he poured and mixed. He had got a glance into the bedroom where Naomi had gone. It wasn't tiny, but it wasn't large enough to be the master suite either.

The small bar served as a room divider between a dining alcove and a large sunken living room. There were two exits on the opposite side of the living room, one with louvered doors and one at the end of a short hall.

Carter guessed kitchen and master bedroom suite.

Behind that second door would be Naomi Bartinelli's office, and the computers.

The dog padded at his heels as he walked down the hall and into the first bedroom.

She was exactly as Carter had suggested, propped against the headboard with her head on a pillow and her shoes off. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, she would have overcome all her shyness and stripped.

But she hadn't. Instead, she lay there looking more like an overgrown, frightened teenager than a widowed woman of around thirty.

Thankfully. Gordo flopped at the foot of the bed, and Carter handed Naomi the Perrier.

"To tonight," he toasted.

"Yes."

Carter watched her drink over the rim of his own glass. Fully a third of the sparkling liquid went down her throat.

That was good.

The depressant he had put in the drink would take almost an hour to work slowly through her system. Her drowsiness would feel natural, and most of it she would attribute to the sex.

"I guess you can see that I'm a little nervous. I can't hide my feelings very well."

Carter stared down at her upturned face, the full lips parted invitingly. The dim light of a single lamp had softened the coarseness of her full face and made it almost pretty. He could see the flush in her cheeks, and her eyes had a look of innocence and vulnerability.

"There's no rush," he said, setting his glass on the night table and sliding onto the bed beside her.

She drank again, gulping another third of the laced Perrier in her nervousness.

Then, breathing a bit rapidly, she put aside the glass and turned to him in open anticipation.

"I've got so damn little to offer a man, really… just my body."