He got into the rear seat beside her, his expression unreadable. “I hope I look okay,” he said.

Jennifer turned away. He had eyes; he had mirrors. He knew how he looked. If he was fishing for a compliment, he was going to be disappointed.

“That’s not for me to say,” she replied stiffly.

She saw him glance at her curiously, but he kept silent.

The drive to the mall was short, for which Jennifer was grateful. The approaches to it were already jammed with traffic.

She looked at Lee, who was craning his neck unhappily. “What are all these people doing here?” he muttered. “Why aren’t they home painting their garages, or something?”

Jennifer couldn’t help smiling. “For the guest of honor, you are wearing a remarkably unfestive expression.”

He hesitated a moment, and then said, “I don’t deserve such adulation. These little kids, they should be looking up to, I don’t know, Jonas Salk or Neil Armstrong or Sandra Day O’Connor. It makes me uncomfortable.”

Jennifer didn’t know what to say. He sounded sincere. She thought about it a moment, and then ventured, “But your manager books you for personal appearances, and you take money for doing them, don’t you?”

He turned on the seat to face her. “In the first place, I don’t have a manager, because I don’t want one. In the second place, I only do the appearances required by my contract, like this one, and the charity stuff. That’s all.”

Jennifer didn’t believe him. “Really?” The skepticism came through in her tone.

His lips twisted. “Really.”

“What about the product endorsements, the commercials?” Jennifer persisted, knowing that she was being rude, but unable to stop herself.

He shrugged slightly. “I endorse the products I actually use, I see no harm in that But if I think the stuff is junk, I won’t go for it, no matter how much they’re offering.”

Jennifer wondered why he was answering her questions so readily, rather than telling her to mind her own business. He seemed to want to explain, to correct her impression of him.

“You wouldn’t believe some of the approaches I’ve had,” he added musingly. “Most of the pitches I’ve turned down play on my background, which I won’t allow. One cooking oil outfit, which shall be nameless, wanted me to deck myself out in buckskins and a headdress and talk about how the ‘braves’ in my ‘tribe’ used to harvest the same com used for their oil.” He shook his head. “Blackfeet live in the Northwest and Canada. They harvested about as much com as your average Eskimo. But I’ll tell you something, even if my people had grown enough com to float the continent in the stuff, I still wouldn’t have done it. I’d rather hawk dog food.”

Jennifer bit her lip. He had his own standards and lived up to them. That was more than could be said for most people.

The driver negotiated his way among cars until he reached one of the mall police. Then he rolled down his window and identified his passenger. The cop peered in the tinted rear window at Lee, who gave him a small half wave. The cop nodded and cleared a path for them up to the mall manager’s office, where Jennifer and Lee emerged from the limousine to be shepherded inside.

They were behind the mall, out of view of the crowd, but a few stragglers still caught sight of Lee. They shouted and waved. He raised his hand in acknowledgment and kept moving. Just like royalty, Jennifer thought dryly and glanced sidelong at him. He seemed withdrawn, preoccupied Well, he was the one who had to make the speech.

Inside, a contingent was waiting for them. It was composed of the mall manager, the general managers of the anchor department stores, the president of the development corporation that had built the mall, the local councilman, and the mayor. There was even a county beauty contest winner, complete with silken sash and rhinestone crown, who cast covert glances at Lee between pauses to adjust her banner or pat her hair into place. Lee favored them all with a practiced smile, which Jennifer could tell was trotted out for these occasions. She had seen the real ones, she realized: the slight, subtle curve to his mouth and the dazzling, impish grin. This smile went with the handshakes and the small talk and was part of his public persona. It was genuine enough, but revealed nothing of himself. She had seen more of the real Lee Youngson during their two encounters in her office than these people ever would.

The mall manager, a Mr. Vance, led them to a central lobby where the crowd was gathered behind ropes cordoning off the corridors. A dais, covered in red velvet, had been placed in the center. The group paused before reaching it and received some preliminary instructions from Mr. Vance and then proceeded outside to the reviewing stand.

The mass of people erupted when they saw Lee. He grinned and waved, taking his seat, waiting for his introduction.

Jennifer remained at the edge of the crowd, observing the scene.

Mr. Vance made the usual appropriate remarks, ending with a spiel about how lucky they were to have with them today that giant of the sports world, a great humanitarian and a true gentleman, etc., etc., Lee Youngson!

Lee stepped up to the microphone during a thunderous ovation. He lifted his arms to ask for quiet and then launched into his talk.

Jennifer had to admire his technique. He played to the crowd like a headliner in the Copa Room of the Sands in Las Vegas. They hung on his every word, laughing at his team anecdotes, listening in openmouthed silence to each sentence as if he were delivering the Sermon on the Mount. She had never seen the exercise of such power. He held them in the palm of his hand…They were his. It was a wonder to behold.

When he finished and sat again to more enthusiastic applause, the others took their turn and spoke briefly. The mayor was up last, thanking everyone as mayors generally do, and then Lee and he cut the ribbon to open the mall officially.

Jennifer watched as they posed for newspaper photographers and gave interviews to television journalists from the local stations. Jennifer listened closely to what was said and distributed releases to the reporters as they milled about the area. Lee was signing autographs and stopped to have his picture taken with his arm around the pageant winner, who smiled up at him seductively. Jennifer viewed the scene for a few moments, then looked away.

It was one in the afternoon by the time it was over, and Jennifer’s feet ached from standing all that time. Lee had handled everything graciously. Why not, Jennifer thought sourly, he’d been through so many of these things he could probably do this number in his sleep. Then she felt slightly guilty at her cynicism. She could at least give him credit for a job well done.

The driver arrived to collect them shortly thereafter, and Lee slipped out a side exit with Jennifer. As they approached the waiting car he said to her, casually, “How about some lunch?”

“No, thank you,” Jennifer said primly.

He glanced at her. “Why not? Aren’t you hungry?”

In point of fact, she was starving. I’d like to get home, I have a number of things to do today,” she said.

“Can’t they wait a little while? We’ll go someplace where I won’t be bothered.”

“Where might that be?” Jennifer asked sarcastically. “Antarctica?”

He shot her a look and then said quietly, “Two hours, Ms. Gardiner. Is that too much to ask?”

Jennifer paused, intrigued. Why not? she reasoned. She was curious about his persistence. He seemed determined to get her to agree.

“All right,” she said. “Just tell the driver where you’d like to go.”

“Is that permitted?” Lee asked, smiling slightly. “I wouldn’t want to break any of your rules. He can drop me back to get my own car if you think that would be advisable.”

“I’ll take the responsibility,” Jennifer said evenly.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Lee answered. “I just want you to be sure.”