Skintight by Susan Andersen

life.
    He headed for Appian Way with the vague intention of buying himself something to celebrate today’s success. Once upon a time, he’d been a lousy dresser, but when he was sixteen and a junior at MIT he’d discovered the value of a good jacket. Once he’d learned a designer sport coat, a silk T-shirt and a pair of jeans would work for damn near any social situation, he’d never looked back. Every now and again he enjoyed adding to his collection.
    Trying to remember where he’d seen Bernini’s, he sauntered past an upscale jewelry store near the fine Italian apparel store, then abruptly stopped.
    A woman swore and careened off his side. He reached out to steady her and even remembered to apologize, but it was an automatic reflex, for his mind wasengaged elsewhere. Staring up at the casino’s enclosed, temperature controlled sky, currently fading from its bright high-noon mode into the golds of afternoon, he reflected that for a supposedly smart guy, he could be one hell of an idiot.
    Hadn’t he tossed and turned until the wee hours after that case of blue balls Treena’d given him last night? Hadn’t he sworn at the end of it that he’d learn to play the game as well as she did? Well, this was his opportunity. She was a high-maintenance showgirl who’d married a rich old man. No wonder he was getting nowhere with her—he hadn’t coughed up the proper incentive.
    Turning on his heel, he headed back to the jewelry store.
    He expected to walk in, grab something with a lot of spangle, and walk right out again. Instead, he found himself spending more time than he would have believed possible searching for just the right piece because he couldn’t remember ever seeing her wear jewelry—sparkly or otherwise. He didn’t know if that was because she didn’t wear it, or because she did and he’d simply overlooked it.
    He dismissed the rings, because he didn’t know her size and he imagined nothing would bust a mood faster than asking a woman to give back the gift she’d just received so it could spend a week in the shop being adjusted. Earrings were out, because he didn’t know whether or not her ears were pierced. He looked at the case of gemstone pendants and bracelets, but nothing seemed quite right, and he was on the verge of leaving when a necklace behind a bunch of larger pieces caught his eye.
    He gestured to the saleswoman who’d been hovering a few feet away and she opened the case and pulled out the piece. It was simpler than the others he’d been inspecting. Instead of diamond piled upon diamond, it consisted of a single delicate platinum chain, from which a tiny pavé diamond pendant was suspended. It was shaped like an evening bag and reminded him of the one Treena had knocked off her chair the other night.
    It was perfect. The piece was dainty, it had meaning, which women always seemed to get off on, and it was…holy shit…just this side of four thousand dollars!
    With a mental shrug, he pulled out the roll he’d won. What the hell. Easy come, easy go. He informed the woman the sale was hers—provided she could expedite the rest of his requirements.
    She leaped into action, and fifteen minutes later, he walked out of the shop with a tiny gift-wrapped package in his pocket.
    He went to Bernini’s next, but discovered he was no longer interested in looking at jackets. So he headed back to his hotel.
    He tried to reach Treena on his cell, but no one answered at her place. Belatedly, he remembered her telling him about a rehearsal this afternoon for a new number that was being introduced into the show. So instead of going up to his room when he reached the Avventurato as he’d intended, he found himself trying the ornate doors of the showroom where la Stravaganza was staged.
    They were locked. Rolling his shoulders, he turnedaway. It hadn’t been a well-thought-out decision in the first