"No, you come over here for a change."
Then I knew something was wrong. In some crazy way Deborah and I operated on the same frequency. I could always sense things about her—and, I knew, she could about me, too. I grunted. I moved reluctantly. But I went over to her and sat down.
Her face was propped up by an elbow and about six inches from mine after she had drawn my head down for a real private tete-a-tete.
"Steve, I've got to talk to you."
She was real, damned pretty that close up. But that wasn't the reason I got the breathless feeling in my stomach. I wondered how much this was going to cost Universal. I was thinking in terms of money at that point.
"All right," I said. "I couldn't hit you even if I wanted to. What did you do this time?"
"Well. It's not awfully bad and it's not awfully good. It's a delicate situation. And I need your help."
My alarm grew. "Deborah!" I said warningly.
She drew a deep breath through a small, round red mouth. "I smuggled someone on board," she said very quietly.
Well, that was interesting. I patted her cheek; I wanted to wring her neck. "Fascinating," I said lightly. "Let me know how you make out with customs, or whatever."