On their faces she could see fear, pity, and a touch of revulsion.

And the worst of it was, this was an event happening to them. They were experiencing it together; they would talk about it later. It was the first in their collection of shared stories. “The time Dan’s ex-wife slashed our tires.”

Cat didn’t say a word. She turned away from them, climbed into her truck, and drove off, without looking back.

Her hands on the steering wheel were filthy black.

What is happening to me?

She drove home to clean up. She had a nine o’clock meeting.

Gemma turned up at lunchtime.

She sat in Cat’s office with that mystified expression she always got when she visited, as if she’d landed in a foreign country, instead of a normal, everyday workplace. It was an expression Cat found simultaneously charming and irritating.

She said, “I don’t have time to go out for lunch.”

“Oh, that’s O.K., I’m not hungry.” Gemma looked up from reading a memo in Cat’s in-tray. “Goodness. It’s all so serious here.”

“Yeah. Deadly serious. We sell chocolates.”

Gemma put down the memo. “Did you happen to slash a few tires before you came to work today?”

Cat was startled. She had just come back from a meeting where she had given a highly professional presentation. That knife-wielding maniac of this morning was somebody else entirely.

“How did you know? Oh. Stupid. The brother.”

“So you did! Was it satisfying?”

“Not really.” Cat scraped away a rim of black from her fingernail. “Did you come in just to ask me that?”

“They’re thinking of taking out a restraining order against you.”

Cat looked up and felt her neck becoming hot.

“A restraining order?”

“I know! It’s exciting, as if they’re scared of you! But still, I thought I should warn you with your court case next week. The prosecutor might mention it. Of course, your lawyer will object, and the judge will say, Sustained, the jury will disregard that! And the jury will all look thoughtful and your lawyer will say, This is a travesty, Your Honor! My client—”

“Oh shut up! It’s not that sort of court case.”

“I know. I was being funny.”

“Not.”

“No. Sorry. Really, I just wanted to tell you that, ah, I don’t think you should go near them again.”

“Thanks. Is that all? I’ve got work to do.”

“That’s all.” Gemma stood up. “By the way, I’ve broken up with him.”

“With Charlie,” said Cat dully. She was thinking about how she must have looked that morning, holding a knife. “You didn’t need to.”

“It wasn’t because of you.”

“Oh.”

“I nearly forgot!” Gemma picked up her bag and began fumbling through it. “I got you a present.”

She pulled out a foam hammer with a ribbon tied around the handle.

“It’s for stress relief.” She banged it on the edge of Cat’s desk and it made a sound like glass shattering. “I thought you could hit things with it when you got mad at Dan.”

Cat made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I should have had it this morning.”

“You can even hit people with it. See!” Gemma hit herself on the arm with the hammer. “Doesn’t hurt! Do you want to hit me and pretend I’m Dan?”

“That’s O.K.”

“Or Angela?”

“Cat, could I have a word?” Graham Hollingdale poked his head in the office, just as Gemma furiously smashed the hammer against her own forehead, crying, “Take that, Angela!”

He looked alarmed. “Oh, excuse me! I’ll come back.”

Gemma rubbed her forehead. “Actually, it does hurt a bit.”

To: Cat

From: Lyn

Subject: Dinner

Hi

How are you? Do you want to come to dinner tonight?

Love, Lyn

P.S. Gemma told me about this morning. She said Dan saw you driving off in some truck. Just wondering how that could be when you DON’T HAVE A LICENSE? Are you mad?

To: Lyn

From: Cat

Subject: Dinner

Can’t come to dinner, thanks. Just promised the CEO I’d go to a boring-as-hell work function.

P.S. Yes, I am mad. Possibly certifiable.

Saturday morning welcomed Cat with a thumping headache, dry mouth, and furry tongue.

Why did she keep doing this to herself?

She lay still, fingertips to her temples, her eyes closed as she tried to remember the night before.

“Hello there.”

Her eyes flew open.

Sweet Jesus, don’t let this be true.

Snuggled up next to her, with the pillow making wings on either side of his pealike balding head, was her CEO Graham Hollingdale.

She just managed to stop herself from screaming.

“How are you feeling?” She watched in horror as he wriggled himself up and the sheet slipped to reveal a not unattractive naked chest. Graham Hollingdale, naked, in her bedroom. She’d never seen him without a tie before! He was way, way out of context.

She closed her eyes.

“Ah. Not that great,” she mumbled.

The sordid details of last night tumbled back into her head. She’d gone with him to the Confectionery Manufacturer’s Association Annual Meeting. They had endured astoundingly boring speeches, and afterward he’d suggested a drink. After the second drink she told him she was separated. After the third she had the startling revelation that Graham was a rather distinguished, handsome man. After the fourth she was suggestively suggesting they share a cab back to her place and feeling pleasantly promiscuous, as if she were the slutty one from Sex and the City.

You fool, Cat. You stupid, stupid fool.

She was giving up alcohol forever.

“Would you like me to get you a cup of tea?” asked Graham. Was that his hand on her leg? Or, surely not, something else?

“No, thank you.”

She fought back welling hysteria and opened her eyes to confirm her state of undress. Her shirt was still buttoned decorously but her skirt had vanished. Underwear appeared to be intact.

“It’s O.K. We only fooled around a little.” His tone was avuncular and cozy.

Oh, yuck, yuck, yuck! She remembered it all. She’d kissed him! Worse, she’d kissed him enthusiastically.