wanted to dance, Luba was going to dance. And
so was Malone. He rose and they went to the dance floor. Malone took
her in his arms and for a few bars they danced silently. At the end of
that time they were much closer together than they had been, and
Malone realized that he was somehow managing to enjoy himself.
Thoroughly.

He thought dimly of the stripper he'd seen when he walked in on
Palveri. Like Luba, she had red hair. But somehow, she looked less
attractive undressed than Luba did in a complete wardrobe. Malone
wondered what the funny feeling creeping up his spine was. After a
second he realized that it wasn't love. Luba's hand was tickling him.
He shifted slightly and the hand left, but the funny feeling remained.

Maybe it _was_ love, he thought. He didn't know whether or not to hope
so.

Luba was pressed close to him. He wondered how to open the
conversation, and decided that a sudden passionate declaration would
be more startling than welcome. At last he said: "Thanks for not
tipping my hand."

Luba's whisper caressed his ear. "Don't thank me," she said. "I
enjoyed it."

"Why are you doing this?" Malone said. "Not that I don't appreciate
it, but I thought you were sore."

"Let's just say that your masterful, explosive approach was
irresistible," Luba said.

Malone wondered briefly whether or not they'd turned off the
air-conditioning. If he moved slightly away from Luba, he thought, he
could breathe more easily. But breathing just wasn't worth it. "I will
cheerfully admit," he said, "that I am a ball of fire in the
feathers, as they say. But I didn't realize it was that obvious--even
to a woman of your tender sensitivity."

Somehow, Luba had managed to get even closer to him. "You touch me
deeply," she whispered into his ear.

Malone swallowed hard and tried to take another breath. Just one more,
he thought; that would be all he needed. "What are you doing in Las
Vegas?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone. It didn't sound
very casual, though.

"I'm on vacation," Luba said in an off-handed manner. "I won't ask
what you're doing; I can guess pretty well. Besides, you obviously
want to keep it under cover."

"Well," Malone said, "I certainly wouldn't want what I'm doing to be
broadcast aloud to the great American public out there in
television-land." It was a long speech for a man without any breath.
Just one more, Malone told himself, and he could die happy.

"I felt that," Luba said.