I was wearing a boatneck sapphire-blue cocktail dress, my hair up in a chignon. I grabbed a vase from underneath the sink and turned the water on. “You didn’t have to do all this,” I said as Don stood in my kitchen, waiting for me. “Well,” he said, “I wanted to. I’ve been hounding Harry to meet you for a while. So it was the least I could do to make you feel special.” I put the flowers on the counter. “Shall we?” Don nodded and took my hand. “I saw Father and Daughter,” he said when we were in his convertible and headed over to the Sunset Strip. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah, Ari showed me an early cut. He says he thinks it’s going to be a big hit. Says he thinks you’re going to be a big hit.” “And what did you think?” We were stopped at a red light on Highland. Don looked at me. “I think you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” “Oh, stop,” I said. I found myself laughing, blushing even. “Truly. And a real talent, too. When the movie ended, I looked right at Ari and said, “‘That’s the girl for me.’ ” “You did not,” I said. Don put up his hand. “Scout’s honor.” There’s absolutely no reason a man like Don Adler should have a different effect on me from the rest of the men in the world. He was no more handsome than Brick Thomas, no more earnest than Ernie Diaz, and he could offer me stardom whether I loved him or not. But these things defy reason. I blame pheromones, ultimately. That and the fact that, at least at first, Don Adler treated me like a person. There are people who see a beautiful flower and rush over to pick it. They want to hold it in their hands, they want to own it. They want the flower’s beauty to be theirs, to be within their possession, their control. Don wasn’t like that. At least, not at first. Don was happy to be near the flower, to look at the flower, to appreciate the flower simply being.