“Barbara,” Bette smiled. “Did my helpful assistant sell me out again?”

“He was merely apprising me of his concerns about your well-being when I called your office.”

“In other words, yes,” Bette said as she got into her car. “To what do I owe this pleasure of your phone call today?”

Silence met Bette’s query on the other end. Barbara was taken aback by the gamut of emotions those simple words had conjured.

“Barbara?”

“Sorry,” the former senator recovered quickly. “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me Friday night?”

“And what did James divulge about my Friday schedule to you?” Bette teased, knowing she had nothing planned. “I would love to.”

“That is the correct answer, Miss Porter.”

“Where are we going?” Bette asked as she navigated through LA traffic. “Are we going to another soiree with the mayor and his wife?”

“She wished,” Barbara tried to keep her tone light. “Dinner at my place? I’m eager to show you around.”

“And a private hanging of your collection,” Bette added, remembering her promise.

“That’s one of the things I have planned for you,” Barbara purred. “How does 6 sound? I can come pick you up or I can give you directions to my place.”

Bette thought of the offer for a moment. “I’ll drive to your place.”

Deflated by the dean’s answer, Barbara reminded herself to not keep her hopes up. “Might help if you have directions, huh?”

“That depends if you want to see me Friday night.”

I want to see you every night and every morning, she thought. “I’ll have my driver leave directions with James.”

“I’ll be there at 6. I can’t wait to see your collection,” Bette told her.

“Is that Bette Porter speak for I can’t wait to check you out?” Barbara smiled when she heard laughter on the other end of the line. “I hope it’s not just my art collection you’re interested in.”

“I better go. I just drove past a cop car,” Bette sidestepped the blatant come-on.

“Of course. Drive safely,” Barbara offered her goodbye before hanging up.