The Count From Wisconsin by Billie Green

laughter. "You wanna neck? Geez, how romantic can you get?"
    "I'm not romantic," he said with an unselfconscious shrug. "I thought you had figured that out by now. That doesn't mean I'm not exciting and terrifically sexy. So how about it?"
    She almost choked on her indrawn breath. He thought he was teasing about being exciting and sexy, but actually he had hit it right on the nose. She had been trying with difficulty all afternoon to keep her thoughts away from the way she had felt last night.
    "No," she said, giving a shaky laugh at the lie. "I don't. I would realty like for you to tell me a little more about what's going on." She glanced up at him to study his strong face carefully. "You haven't given me an awful lot of information up to now."
    His dark eyes met hers as she spoke and after a moment of silent communication, he shrugged. "I may be wrong," he said softly, "but I got the idea that you had reasons of your own for coming with me. Reasons that had nothing to do with why I'm chasing that man."
    How could he know that? How could he know that Plate had viewed their meeting and the subsequent events as a kind of challenge that life was throwing at her, a challenge she had to meet or be condemned to accept her ordinary existence as unworthy?
    She glanced away from him uneasily and said, "Okay, I'll accept that, but now I'd realty like to know more about what's happening."
    "It's a long story. One that starts a lot of years ago." His eyes took on a faraway look. "What's important is that an old friend of mine is being blackmailed."
    A chilled shiver ran up her spine. She had taken everything so lightly until now, but this was not something she could shrug off. She wanted to ask more—who and why—but blackmail indicated a need for secrecy. She couldn't ask him to give away secrets that weren't his to give. "By the man in the Jaguar?" she asked quietly.
    He was silent for a moment. "I don't think so. Don't ask me why. He's the man who is making the demands, but somehow It just doesn't jell.-" He shrugged. "So I'm following him to try and get to the bottom of the thing. I want to know who's behind it and why. I also need to recover some things that are potentially harmful to my friend's well-being."
    "Do you know the man in the car?"
    "I've met him," he said, his voice grim. "Our man is one Rene Alvarez, born in Paris of Spanish parents. He's been a hanger-on for most of his life and—as far as I can tell—will do anything for money." He swirled the wine in his cup, concentrating on the ruby liquid, then gave a rough sound of frustration. "In the last few months I've been to enough parties to last me a lifetime. I've cultivated Alvarez and his friends, trying to make some sense out of the whole thing. I've purposely acquired a ... a tainted reputation so that he would feel free to brag about what he's doing."
    Kate's eyes widened in surprise. So he knew what people were saying about him. And he didn't sound as though he enjoyed the reputation he had gained.
    "And did he?" she asked, without comment.
    He laughed harshly before tipping back his head to finish the last of the wine in his mug. "He's bragged about using and selling several illegal drugs," he said without looking at her. "He's bragged about being the go-between in an art swindle and about other activities that you wouldn't want to hear about, but so far, not one word about Tony."
    "Your friend?"
    He nodded. "I can't figure out the connection," he said emphatically, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "And the more he talks the more I believe he's only a hired messenger."
    She gave him an inquisitive glance. "You mean someone picked him up at the local 'Hoods "R" Us'?"
    "Something like that." He chuckled. "No, if this whole blackmail scheme were his idea, he'd have asked for money right away and that would have been the end of it. . . until he wanted more. But there have been no demands for money. Someone wants Tony to suffer."
    She glanced down