"Ten bucks says you can't do it."

Serena Smyth lifted an eyebrow at her friend, her catlike green eyes alight with amusement. "You're on."

It was one of many bets between the two young women since they had met in high school years before, lighthearted and, as usual, challenging Serena's uncanny ability to get information, or anything else she wanted, from a man.

Jane Riley, an attractive and vivacious brunet, giggled, but then suddenly looked nervous. "I don't know. Maybe this isn't such a good idea. Serena, Jeremy Kane uses his column to trash anybody he hates, and since that model broke up with him, he hates every woman still alive and breathing. There's no way he'll dance with you, let alone spill the beans about the grant. And if he realizes you're just after information, next week's column will make you look like the whore of Babylon."

"He'll never guess what I'm after," Serena retorted confidently.

"Oh, no? Look, friend, we both know he's virtually pickled after years of drinking, but he was a crackerjack investigative reporter once upon a time, and some of the old instincts might still be there."

Serena shrugged. With the frankness that often startled people because her appearance made them believe she was too elegant and haughty to ever speak bluntly, she said, "I don't think he could find his butt with both hands and a flashlight."

Jane, knowing her friend rather well, began to regret her own impulsive challenge. "Serena, why don't we just forget the bet this time? If you go and do something crazy, Richard will never forgive me."

"Forgive you? Don't be silly, he knows me too well to ever blame anyone else for my tricks. Besides, you know you're dying to find out if Seth gets the grant."

Jane couldn't deny that. Seth Westcott was her live-in lover, an artist with a difficult temperament, and Jane knew their cluttered loft would be much more peaceful if she could tell him that the fifty-thousand-dollar grant from Kane's newspaper was going to be his. More peaceful for a while, at least.

But she hesitated, mostly because of Serena's uncle and onetime guardian, with whom her friend still lived here in Seattle. Richard Merlin had always made Jane feel just the tiniest bit uneasy, though she couldn't have said exactly why, since he'd always been perfectly pleasant to her. It might have been his dramatic appearance; his slightly shaggy black hair, austere, rather classical bone structure, and startling black eyes gave him the appearance of a man who might have been anything from a poet or maestro of the symphony-to a serial killer.

In actuality, he was a businessman, involved in various real estate ventures, and both well known and highly respected in the city. A rather ordinary kind of career, certainly, and he had never done anything to call undue attention to himself or any of his actions. But Jane still felt curiously in awe of him, and it always made her nervous when Serena cheerfully did something they both knew her uncle would not be happy about.

Shaking her head, Jane said, "Of course I want to know if Seth gets the grant, but I'd rather not see your name in bold print in Kane's column."

"Oh, that'll never happen." Serena spoke absently, her attention elsewhere as she scanned the well-dressed crowd. The occasion was a dinner-dance charity benefit, and since the charity was a good one, the crowd was happy to be here. Both the food and the band were first-rate, and the party was being held in a hotel ballroom, so none of the guests felt the automatic constraint that came with being in someone's home.

The huge room was very noisy.

Serena finally found what she'd been looking for: Richard's tall form on the other side of the room. He was talking to the mayor, his attention firmly engaged, and was unlikely to notice what she was up to.

"If you're so sure Richard won't care what you're going to do," Jane said suspiciously, "then why did you check first to make sure he was across the room?"

Serena rose to her feet, leaving her wrap over the back of the chair and her evening purse on the table. She was a bit above average height and slender, but by no means thin. In fact, she could have earned a healthy income posing for the centerfold of any men's magazine, and the backless emerald green evening gown she was wearing displayed that eye-catching figure to advantage.

The gown also set off her bright red hair, currently swept up in an elaborate French twist, her translucent complexion, and her vivid green eyes. She was a beautiful woman, her features exquisite and deceptively haughty, and a considerable intelligence made her able to hold her own in most any situation.

Smiling, she looked down at her friend and said, "I never said he wouldn't care. I just said he wouldn't blame you."

Watching her friend move gracefully among the tables toward her intended target, Jane felt a brief, craven impulse to find Seth in the crowd and announce that she wanted to go home. But he'd be suspicious, and she'd have to confess she had dared Serena to do something dangerous. Again.

It had been fun during their teenage years, because Serena had accepted even the wildest dares and because peculiar things always seemed to happen when she did.

Like the time Jane had dared her to approach the famous rock star who'd been performing in Seattle. Serena had gotten past the guards at the stage door with incredible ease, emerging in triumph ten minutes later with an autograph. She had been wearing a stage pass, impossible to buy or fake, and had only laughed when Jane had demanded to know how she'd gotten it.

Later Jane had heard an odd story. The sprinkler system backstage had been acting up just when Serena had been there, going on and off in different areas randomly, drenching equipment and driving everybody nuts.

Serena, of course, had come out perfectly dry.

And there had been another occasion Jane had never forgotten. A mutual friend had taken the two girls out on a fishing boat, and he had bemoaned the fact that the small family fishing businesses such as his were a dying breed; they simply couldn't compete with the huge commercial operations. He was on the verge of going under financially, he had confided, and during this particular week the catch had been truly abysmal.

Jane had happened to look at Serena just then, and she'd been struck by her friend's expression. Gazing out over the water, Serena had chewed her bottom lip in a characteristically indecisive gesture and then, looking both guilty and pleased, had nodded to herself, her eyes very bright.

There had been no opportunity to ask her friend what was going on, because their host had begun to haul his nets in. To his obvious shock, the catch was the best of the season, incredibly good; the boat rode low in the water with the weight of the fish. It seemed his luck had turned. In fact, after that day he had only to cast out his nets to be rewarded by all the fish he could handle.

Jane had never asked Serena about that, just as she'd never asked her about a few other peculiar things, such as why light bulbs had an odd tendency to blow out near her and computers often went haywire, or why she couldn't wear a wristwatch (they went crazy or simply died on her), or why the weather always seemed to be good when she wanted it to be. Jane simply accepted the good fortune of Serena's friends and privately decided that she was three parts witch.

But she was nervous about this bet, and watched anxiously as Serena reached Jeremy Kane's table. The newspaperman had been drinking steadily all evening, and had more than once gotten so loud that those at nearby tables couldn't help overhearing him as he caustically held forth on a number of subjects. But he hadn't left his table even once to dance.