License to Thrill

running high today." Then she nodded knowingly. "You need a man."
    Kat's mouth fell open. "You're delirious—that's the last thing I need."
    But her red-haired friend only grinned. "You, my friend, are horny."
    Flustered, Kit could only gasp in outrage. "That's ridiculous—just because I've had it up to my eyeballs with pushy men, doesn't mean I'm...anything."
    "Let me guess—Napoleon's being a pain in the ass again?"
    "Again? He didn't stop long enough to resume."
    "So why do you put up with the little dictator? He couldn't run the museum without you."
    Kat sighed and tore off a chunk of buttered roll. Her friend didn't know it, but she was planning her escape in two months, she just hadn't yet chosen a destination. "I've been giving serious thought to leaving Jellico's."
    "Good. There are dozens of museums and galleries in San Francisco that would pluck you up in a minute." Her friend popped a cherry tomato into her mouth for emphasis.
    Kat cupped her hand behind her ear and tilted her head.
    "What are you doing?"
    "Listening as my father turns over in his grave for me even thinking about leaving Jellico's."
    After a wry laugh, Denise said, "You've already made your mark there—why else would they have chosen you to handle the exhibition of the King's letter?"
    "Alleged King's letter," Kat said. "It hasn't been authenticated yet. And this is a prime example of my boss lowering the standards of the museum by agreeing to show a document that might not even be genuine."
    "I saw an interview with the owner on the national news last night—she's convinced it's real."
    Kat laughed. "Lady Mercer has a vested interest in spreading that rumor—American collectors are clamoring for an invitation to bid on the letter."
    "She'll be rich."
    " If it's genuine."
    "What do you think?"
    Kat chewed her bread. "I think it's highly suspicious when a two-hundred-year-old historically significant document suddenly appears."
    "The news segment said the letter has been hidden between the pages of an old book and packed away in a trunk."
    Pursing her lips, Kat shook her head. "Seems a little pat to me."
    "It happens, doesn't it?"
    "Sure," Kat conceded with a shrug. "It hasn't been so long since an art collector attended a party and noticed a Michelangelo statue on a stairway newel post in the host's home. The owners had no idea of its worth."
    "Wow," Denise said, her eyes shining. "And now a love letter from King George III has come to light—you have to admit it's kind of romantic, Kat."
    " If it was written by King George III," Kat said wryly. "Besides, I think the collectors are more interested in the part about him being sympathetic to the American Revolutionaries than about the naughty talk to a mistress."
    "Have you read it?"
    "No," Kat said. "I just know what the newspapers are reporting, same as you."
    "Imagine, something worth so much money sitting right under your nose. Wouldn't it be great if that hideous gargoyle on my fireplace mantel turned out to be worth something? Of course, it wouldn't have to be a mint—I'd settle for a measly thirty-five thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars."
    "Still trying to buy your condo?" Kat asked sympathetically.
    Denise nodded. "I've got six weeks to come up with the down payment or I'll have to move."
    "Got any rich relatives?"
    "Not any on the verge of dying, unfortunately."
    "You could marry my boss," Kat suggested cheerfully. "And then get him off my back."
    Denise made a face. "I'm not getting on my back to save yours."
    "And why risk making that new boyfriend jealous?"
    "Kat, I keep telling you, this guy is just a friend."
    "So what's his name and when will I meet him?"
    "Never mind, okay? What time does the letter arrive?"
    Kat pointed her fork. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to shoot you."
    "I only asked because I need to borrow your washer and dryer tonight."
    "Again? As much as your appliances break down, I'd think you'd be glad to move."
    Denise adopted a drawl. "It ain't perfect, but it's home."
    Kat squinted, mentally moving through the remainder of her day. "Besides the arrival of the infamous love letter, I have to develop a schedule to inventory our vaults. Arrrgh! I'm glad it only comes once every three years—I'd rather have a mammogram."
    Denise eyed her friend's large breasts and ran a hand over her own flat chest. "Ouch."
    Kat laughed. "I should be home by seven o'clock."
    "Thanks." Her petite friend flagged the waitress, then plopped down a couple of bills