The new building was progressing on schedule. Lara visited the site every morning and every afternoon, and there was a new respect in the attitude of the men toward her. She sensed it in the way they looked at her, talked to her, and worked for her. She knew it was because of Paul Martin, and disturbingly, she found herself thinking more and more about the ugly-attractive man with the strangely compelling voice.

Lara telephoned him again.

"I wondered if we might have lunch, Mr. Martin?"

"Are you having another problem of some kind?"

"No. I just thought it would be nice if we got to know each other better."

"I'm sorry, Miss Cameron. I never have lunch."

"What about dinner one evening?"

"I'm a married man, Miss Cameron. I have dinner with my wife and children."

"I see. If..." The line went dead. What's the matter with him? Lara wondered. I'm not trying to go to bed with the man. I just want to find some way to thank him. She tried to put him out of her mind.

Paul Martin was disturbed by how pleased he was to hear Lara Cameron's voice. He told his secretary, "If Miss Cameron calls again, tell her I'm not in." He did not need temptation, and Lara Cameron was temptation.

Howard Keller was delighted with the way things were progressing.

"I must admit, you had me a little worried there for a while," he said. "It looked as though we were going right down the tube. You pulled off a miracle."

It wasn't my miracle, Lara thought. It was Paul Martin's. Perhaps he was angry with her because she had not paid him for his services.

On an impulse, Lara sent Paul a check for fifty thousand dollars.

The following day, the check was returned with no note.

Lara telephoned him again. His secretary said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Martin is not available."

Another snub. It was as though he could not be bothered with her. And if he can't be bothered with me, Lara wondered, why did he go out of his way to help me?

She dreamed about him that night.

Howard Keller walked into Lara's office.

"I've got two tickets for the new Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, Song & Dance. I have to go to Chicago. Can you use the tickets?"

"No, I...wait." She was quiet for a moment. "Yes, I think I can use them. Thank you, Howard."

That afternoon Lara put one of the tickets in an envelope and addressed it to Paul Martin at his office.

When he received the ticket the next day, he looked at it, puzzled. Who would send him a single ticket to the theater? The Cameron girl. I'll have to put a stop to this, he thought.

"Am I free Friday evening?" he asked his secretary.

"You're having dinner with your brother-in-law, Mr. Martin."

"Cancel it."

Lara sat through the first act, and the seat next to her remained empty. So he's not coming, Lara thought. Well, to hell with him. I've done everything I can.

As the first act curtain came down, Lara debated whether she should stay for the second act or leave. A figure appeared at the seat next to hers.

"Let's get out of here," Paul Martin commanded.

They had dinner at a bistro on the East Side. He sat across the table from her, studying her, quiet and wary. The waiter came to take their drink order.

"I'll have a scotch and soda," Lara said.

"Nothing for me."

Lara looked at him in surprise.

"I don't drink."

After they had ordered dinner. Paul Martin said, "Miss Cameron, what do you want from me?"

"I don't like owing anyone anything," Lara said. "I owe you something, and you won't let me pay you. That bothers me."

"I told you before...you don't owe me anything."

"But I..."

"I hear your building is coming along well."

"Yes." She started to say "thanks to you," then thought better of it.

"You're good at what you do, aren't you?"

Lara nodded. "I want to be. It's the most exciting thing in the world to have an idea and watch it grow into concrete and steel, and become a building that people work in and live in. In a way, it becomes a monument, doesn't it?"

Her face was vibrant and alive.

"I suppose it does. And is one monument going to lead to another?"

"You bet it is," Lara said enthusiastically. "I intend to become the most important real estate developer in this city."

There was a sexuality about her that was mesmerizing.

Paul Martin smiled. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"Why did you decide to come to the theater tonight?" Lara asked.

He had come to tell her to leave him alone, but being with her now, being this close to her, he could not bring himself to say it. "I heard good things about the show."

Lara smiled. "Maybe we'll go again and see it together, Paul."

He shook his head. "Miss Cameron, I'm not only married, I'm very much married. I happen to love my wife."

"I admire that," Lara said. "The building will be finished on the fifteenth of March. We're having a party to celebrate. Will you come?"

He hesitated a long time trying to word his refusal as gently as possible. When he finally spoke, he said, "Yes, I'll come."

The celebration for the opening of the new building was a moderate success. Lara Cameron's name was not big enough to attract many members of the press or any of the city's important dignitaries. But one of the mayor's assistants was there, and a reporter from the Post.

"The building is almost fully leased out," Keller told Lara. "And we have a flood of inquiries."

"Good," Lara said absently. Her mind was on something else. She was thinking about Paul Martin and wondering whether he would appear. For some reason it was important to her. He was an intriguing mystery. He denied that he had helped her, and yet...She was pursuing a man old enough to be her father. Lara put the connection out of her mind.

Lara attended to her guests. Hors d'oeuvres and drinks were being served, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. In the midst of the festivities, Paul Martin arrived, and the tone of the party immediately changed. The workmen greeted him as though he were royalty. They were obviously in awe of him.

I'm a corporate attorney...I don't deal with unions.

Martin shook hands with the mayor's assistant and some of the union officials there, then went up to Lara.

"I'm glad you could come," Lara said.

Paul Martin looked around at the huge building and said, "Congratulations. You've done a good job."

"Thank you." She lowered her voice. "And I do mean thank you."

He was staring at her, bemused by how ravishing Lara looked and the way he felt, looking at her.

"The party's almost over," Lara said. "I was hoping you would take me to dinner."

"I told you, I have dinner with my wife and children." He was looking into her eyes. "I'll buy you a drink."

Lara smiled. "That will do nicely."

They stopped at a small bar on Third Avenue. They talked, but afterward neither of them would remember what they talked about. The words were camouflage for the sexual tension between them.

"Tell me about yourself," Paul Martin said. "Who are you? Where are you from? How did you get started in this business?"

Lara thought of Sean MacAllister and his repulsive body on top of hers. "That was so good we're going to do it again."

"I came from a little town in Nova Scotia," Lara said. "Glace Bay. My father collected rents from some boardinghouses there. When he died, I took over. One of the boarders helped me buy a lot, and I put up a building on it. That was the beginning."

He was listening closely.

"After that I went to Chicago and developed some buildings there. I did well and came to New York." She smiled. "That's really the whole story." Except for the agony of growing up with a father who hated her, the shame of poverty, of never owning anything, the giving of her body to Sean MacAllister...

As though reading her mind, Paul Martin said, "I'll bet it wasn't really all that easy, was it?"

"I'm not complaining."

"What's your next project?"

Lara shrugged. "I'm not sure. I've looked at a lot of possibilities, but there's nothing I'm really wild about."

He could not take his eyes off her.

"What are you thinking?" Lara asked.

He took a deep breath. "The truth? I was thinking that if I weren't married, I would tell you that you're one of the most exciting women I've ever met. But I am married, so you and I are going to be just friends. Do I make myself clear?"

"Very clear."

He looked at his watch. "Time to go." He turned to the waiter. "Check, please." He rose to his feet.

"Can we have lunch next week?" Lara asked.

"No. Maybe I'll see you again when your next building is finished."

And he was gone.

That night Lara dreamed they were making love. Paul Martin was on top of her, stroking her body with his hands and whispering in her ear.

"You ken, I maun hae ye, and onie ye...Gue forgie me, my bonnie darlin', for I've niver tauld you how mickle I love ye, love ye, love ye..."

And then he was inside her and her body was suddenly molten. She moaned, and her moans awakened her. She sat up in bed, trembling.

Two days later Paul Martin telephoned. "I think I have a location you might be interested in," he said crisply. "It's over on the West Side, on Sixty-ninth Street. It's not on the market yet. It belongs to a client of mine who wants to sell."

Lara and Howard Keller went to look at it that morning. It was a prime piece of property.

"How did you hear about this?" Keller asked.

"Paul Martin."

"Oh, I see." There was disapproval in his voice.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Lara...I checked on Martin. He's Mafia. Stay away from him."

She said indignantly, "He has nothing to do with the Mafia. He's a good friend. Anyway, what does that have to do with this site? Do you like it?"

"I think it's great."

"Then let's buy it."

Ten days later they closed the deal.

Lara sent Paul Martin a large bouquet of flowers. There was a note attached: "Paul - please don't send these back. They're very sensitive."

She received a call from him that afternoon.

"Thanks for the flowers. I'm not used to getting flowers from beautiful women." His voice sounded gruffer than usual.

"Do you know your problem?" Lara asked. "No one has ever spoiled you enough."

"Is that what you want to do, spoil me?"

"Rotten."

Paul laughed.

"I mean it."

"I know you do."

"Why don't we talk about it at lunch?" Lara asked.

Paul Martin had not been able to get Lara out of his mind. He knew that he could easily fall in love with her. There was a vulnerability about her, an innocence, and, at the same time, something wildly sensual. He knew that he would be smart never to see her again, but he was unable to control himself. He was drawn to her by something more powerful than his will.

They had lunch at the "21" Club.

"When you're trying to hide something," Paul Martin advised, "always do it out in the open. Then no one will believe you're doing anything wrong."

"Are we trying to hide something?" Lara asked softly.

He looked at her and made his decision. She's beautiful and smart, but so are a thousand other women. It will be easy to get her out of my system. I'll go to bed with her once, and that will be the end of it.

As it turned out, he was wrong.

When they arrived at Lara's apartment, Paul was unaccountably nervous.

"I feel like a fuckin' schoolboy," Paul said. "I'm out of practice."

"It's like riding a bicycle," Lara murmured. "It will come back to you. Let me undress you."

She took off his jacket and tie and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"You know that this could never become serious, Lara."

"I know that."

"I'm sixty-two years old. I could be your father."

She went still for an instant, remembering her dream. "I know." She finished undressing him. "You have a beautiful body."

"Thanks." His wife never told him that.

Lara slid her arms along his thighs. "You're very strong, aren't you?"

He found himself standing straighter. "I played basketball when I was in..."

Her lips were on his and they were in bed, and he experienced something that had never happened to him before in his life. He felt as though his body were on fire. They were making love, and it was without a beginning or an ending, a river that swept him along faster and faster, and the tide began to pull at him, sucking him down and down, deeper and deeper, into a velvet darkness that exploded into a thousand stars. And the miracle was that it happened again, and once again, until he lay there panting and exhausted.

"I can't believe this," he said.

His lovemaking with his wife had always been conventional, routine. But with Lara it was an incredibly sensual experience. Paul Martin had had many women before, but Lara was like no one he had ever known. She had given him a gift no woman had ever given him: She made him feel young.

When Paul was getting dressed, Lara asked, "Will I see you again?"

"Yes." God help me. "Yes."

The 1980s were a time of changes. Ronald Reagan was elected President of the United States and Wall Street had the busiest day in its history. The shah of Iran died in exile, and Anwar Sadat was assassinated. The public debt hit one trillion dollars, and the American hostages in Iran were freed. Sandra Day O'Connor became the first woman to serve on the Supreme Court.

Lara was in the right place at the right time. Real estate development was booming. Money was abundant, and banks were willing to finance projects that were both speculative and highly leveraged.

Savings and loan companies were a big source of equity. High-yield and high-risk bonds - nicknamed junk bonds - had been popularized by a young financial genius named Mike Milken, and they were manna to the real estate industry. The financing was there for the asking.

"I'm going to put up a hotel on the Sixty-ninth Street property, instead of an office building."

"Why?" Howard Keller asked. "It's a perfect location for an office building. With a hotel, you have to run it twenty-four hours a day. Tenants come and go like ants. With an office building, you only have to worry about a lease every five or ten years."

"I know, but in a hotel you have drop-dead power, Howard. You can give important people suites and entertain them in your own restaurant. I like that idea. It's going to be a hotel. I want you to set up meetings with the top architects in New York: Skidmore, Owings and Merrill, Peter Eisenman, and Philip Johnson."

The meetings took place over the next two weeks. Some of the architects were patronizing. They had never worked for a female developer before.

One of them said, "If you'd like us to copy..."

"No. We're going to build a hotel that other builders will copy. If you want a buzzword, try 'elegance.' I see an entryway flanked by twin fountains, a lobby with Italian marble. Off the lobby we'll have a comfortable conference room where..."

By the end of the meeting they were impressed.

Lara put together a team. She hired a lawyer named Terry Hill, an assistant named Jim Belon, a project manager named Tom Chriton, and an advertising agency headed by Tom Scott. She hired the architectural firm of Higgins, Almont & Clark, and the project was under way.

"We'll meet once a week," Lara told the group, "but I'll want daily reports from each of you. I want this hotel to go up on schedule and on budget. I selected all of you because you're the best at what you do. Don't let me down. Are there any questions?"

The next two hours were spent in answering them.

Later Lara said to Keller, "How do you think the meeting went?"

"Fine, boss."

It was the first time he had called her that. She liked it.

Charles Cohn telephoned.

"I'm in New York. Can we have lunch?"

"You bet we can!" Lara said.

They had lunch at Sardi's.

"You look wonderful," Cohn said. "Success agrees with you, Lara."

"It's only the beginning," Lara said. "Charles...how would you like to join Cameron Enterprises? I'll give you a piece of the company and..."

He shook his head. "Thanks, but no. You've just started the journey. I'm near the end of the road. I'll be retiring next summer."

"Let's stay in touch," Lara said. "I don't want to lose you."

The next time Paul Martin came to Lara's apartment, she said, "I have a surprise for you, darling."

She handed him half a dozen packages.

"Hey! It's not my birthday."

"Open them."

Inside were a dozen Bergdorf Goodman shirts and a dozen Pucci ties.

"I have shirts and ties," he laughed.

"Not like these," Lara told him. "They'll make you feel younger. I got the name of a good tailor for you, too."

The following week Lara had a new barber style Paul's hair.

Paul Martin looked at himself in the mirror and thought, I do look younger. Life had become exciting. And all because of Lara, he thought.

Paul's wife tried not to notice the change in her husband.

They were all there for the meeting: Keller, Tom Chriton, Jim Belon and Terry Hill.

"We're going to fast-track the hotel," Lara announced.

The men looked at one another. "That's dangerous," Keller said.

"Not if you do it right."

Tom Chriton spoke up. "Miss Cameron, the safe way to do this is to complete one phase at a time. You do your grading, and when that's done, you begin digging the trenches for foundations. When that's done, you put in the utility conduits and drainage piping. Then..."

Lara interrupted. "You put in the wooden concrete frame-work and the skeletal gridiron. I know all that."

"Then why...?"

"Because that will take two years. I don't want to wait two years."

Jim Belon said, "If we fast-track it, that means starting all the different steps at once. If anything goes wrong, nothing will fit together. You could have a lopsided building with electric circuits in the wrong place and..."

"Then we have to see to it that nothing goes wrong, don't we?" Lara said. "If we do it this way, we'll get the building up in a year instead of two, and we'll save close to twenty million dollars."

"True, but it's taking a big chance."

"I like taking chances."