“Don’t get the idea my blood pressure can’t go up,” he warned. “I just don’t like the setting.”
She laughed again. “I didn’t suppose you were a eunuch. Not with that mop of red hair. My name is Margo.”
Shayne nodded approval. “Nicely alliterative with Mike.”
Margo came to a sitting position. “Nice ice water you’ve got there.”
“Shall we drink to lots of future alliteration?” He held up his cognac glass which was half empty.
She made a face at the glass. “I don’t like tea,” she hazarded with distaste.
Shayne laughed. “You’re a lousy crystal gazer.” He set the glass down and swung from the railing, stepped inside and got the cognac bottle. Returning, he leaned over the railing and handed it to her. “The last of my private stock.”
Her eyes widened as she accepted the bottle. “I guessed it would be cognac, but I didn’t hope for Monnet. Should I get a glass or may I drink from the bottle?”
“Go ahead,” Shayne said, “it would be nice to share your diseases.”
She put the bottle to her lips and took three swallows, exhaled a long breath of satisfaction, and her eyes sparkled at Shayne. She held the bottle up and looked at it. “I hope I didn’t take too much.”