As Richard drove home that evening, his thoughts were on the girl he had interviewed in the morning. He had thought about her on and off all day, though he couldn't say for certain why.

She had given a good interview, no doubt about it. She was as qualified as anyone else he had interviewed; he liked her determination and ambition, appreciated the hunger for the job he had heard in her voice, the hint of desperation.

He had decided against her anyway. She was too young for the job, too pretty, too inexperienced.

But still, he couldn't stop thinking about her. And the more he thought, the more he wavered in his original decision against her. She possessed a kind of determination that he hadn't seen in the other applicants, a kind that made him believe she would do a good job, a better job than the others he had interviewed.

She also possessed a kind of social confidence and savvy that suggested a woman older than her years, one who had seen more of the world than one would expect of a twenty-two year old.

Richard turned onto Gerard Street, heading toward the lake. He smiled to himself, remembering the way she had looked at him, the way she had looked up to him. As if she believed in him one hundred percent. As if she didn't have a doubt about his abilities or the fact that he would win the race for D.A.-or any race he ran in, for that matter.

He shook his head, amused with his own thoughts. When she'd looked at him that way, he had been reminded of the young man he had been back at Tulane. Unstoppable. Cocky and without doubts-about himself, his abilities or his golden future. He had been reminded of the way it had felt to snap his fingers and whatever he had desired would be his.

Richard grimaced. A pretty young thing, one more than ten years his junior, gazed up at him in awe and he'd puffed up like some damn peacock.

Reason enough not to hire her.

He sobered, remembering her surprise and devastation at learning of Senator Jacobson's death. Poor kid, she'd been really upset. He had felt bad for her.

He drew to a stop as the light ahead turned red, his thoughts drifting to Kate. She used to look at him the way Julianna had today-as if she believed he not only hung the moon, but that he could do no wrong as well. She used to make him feel all puffed up and invincible.

He drew his eyebrows together in thought. When had she stopped? he wondered. When had he ceased being a hero to her?

The baby, he thought, unable to quell a stab of resentment. Since Emma nothing had been the same between them.

The light changed, and he turned onto Lakeshore Drive. He waved at their next-door neighbor, out pruning her crepe myrtles, as he swung into his drive. Kate sat on the upper balcony, reading while the baby slept in her swing. He pulled his car to a stop, collected his briefcase and climbed out. Kate saw him and called a greeting.

That was it, he realized as he waved to his wife. Something about Julianna Starr reminded him of Kate, though they looked nothing alike. Kate possessed a classic, quiet kind of beauty. Julianna Starr reminded him of the super-models made so popular by designers like Calvin Klein- waif-Madonnas, somehow childlike and sensual. Despite those differences, he saw something in Julianna's manner that reminded him of his wife-the way she moved and spoke, her smile.

He let himself into the house. He found Kate in the kitchen opening a bottle of merlot. He crossed to her, closing his arms around her from behind. He bent and pressed his lips to her ear. "Hello, beautiful."

She turned in his arms, looping hers around his neck, smiling up at him. "Hello to you, too."

He kissed her, then moved his gaze over her face, taking in the shadows beneath her eyes. "You look tired."

She grimaced. "I am. Emma had a fussy day."

He released her and went to the cabinet for a couple of wineglasses. "She's quiet now."

"Thank God. Nothing I did today made her happy. I swear I spent most of the day walking the floors with her."

He poured them each a glass of the mellow, red wine and brought her one. "I guess you didn't get to The Bean the way you hoped to?"

"Not a chance. Emma would have lasted about two seconds." Kate brought the glass to her lips, sipped, then sighed. "I needed that." She took another sip, sighed again, then put down the glass. "How are the interviews going?"

"Funny you should ask that. I interviewed someone interesting today. A woman."

Kate glanced at the baby monitor to make sure it was on. "Tell me about her."

So he did. When he had finished, Kate looked at him. "She sounds like a dream. Are you going to hire her?"

"I don't know. She's young. Not experienced enough." He eyed his wife's expression, then laughed. "I can see you take umbrage with something I just said."

"It's not that, it's…do you think she can do the job?"

He considered the question a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"And you think you could work with her?"

"No doubt, though-" he cut his wife an amused glance from the corners of his eyes "-all that hero worship could get a little old."

"Hero worship?" Kate laughed and tossed the dish towel at him. "Give me a break."

He laughed and leaned against the counter. "So, what are you saying? That you think I should give her the job?"

"It's your decision, of course." From the monitor came the sounds of Emma beginning to stir. Kate straightened. "But she sounds great. And after all, you said she reminds you of me. She has to be good, then."

This time it was he who tossed the towel. She sobered. "Think about it, Richard. We were both young and untried once. Why not give her a chance? Hire her on a trial basis, see what she can do. Tell her you'll evaluate her performance in thirty days."

He thought a moment, then nodded. "I think you're right, I should give her a chance. I'm going to offer her the job."

Over the next two weeks, Julianna threw herself into her new job, anxious to impress Richard. The work was deadly dull-making speaking engagements, contacting supporters, running errands-but working with Richard was heaven on earth.

She used every opportunity to worm her way into his affections. Her plan of attack was two-fold. She chose every day's attire with care, endeavoring for a balance between sexy and professional. She purposely wore her skirts a bit too short and when she could, left an extra button of her blouse unfastened-neither being overt enough to cause talk or arouse suspicions, but with an eye to being sexy, womanly. Inviting. The second part of her plan involved being completely accommodating to him, making his every wish her command.

She wanted him to grow to depend on her, to look forward to seeing her, to desiring her. She wanted him to realize he couldn't live without her.

Some days, when he smiled at her in that special way of his, or when he laid a hand on her shoulder or cast a furtive glance at her legs or breasts, she would think she was winning. Other days, when she hardly saw him or when he barely acknowledged her presence, her confidence would sink, her spirits with it.

On those days, she reminded herself that they were meant to be together, that Richard was her destiny. Then she would double her efforts.

"Julianna?"

Receiver propped between her ear and shoulder, Julianna lifted her gaze. Sandy stood in the doorway to her closetlike office, her expression hopeful. "Yes?" Julianna asked, frowning.

"I thought…maybe, we could have lunch?"

"Sorry." Julianna shook her head. "Mr. Ryan and I are having lunch today." "You and Mr. Ryan? Your boss, Mr. Ryan?" "Yes, Sandy." Julianna sighed. "We have business to discuss."

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "So, when can we have lunch together? Tomorrow?" "I don't know. Maybe." "That's what you told me yesterday," Sandy said, her tone that of a petulant child. "And the day before, too."