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the same time. And she said without embarrassment that she was forty-nine years old, although she looked about forty-two. There was something very warm and sensual about her. She didn't look American, or French, but with her hair pulled back and her big green eyes, she looked very exotic, perhaps South American. She seemed completely at ease in her own skin, and with who she was. She was only a year younger than Gray, and their lives had run parallel many times. She also loved to paint, but said she wasn't very good. She did it more for fun. She had a deep love and respect for art.
    They all sat there until nearly three o'clock, and then finally the threesome from the Blue Moon stood up.
    “We'd better get back,” Charlie said. It had been an enjoyable evening for all of them. He had pursued his conversation among the other men for many hours. Gray and Sylvia hadn't stopped talking all night, and although Sylvia's niece was an undeniably pretty girl, Adam had gotten drawn into a conversation with a lawyer from Rome, and had enjoyed a heated debate, even more than he had enjoyed flirting with Sylvia's niece. It had been a terrific evening for all concerned, and their hosts stood up with regret.
    “Would you like to spend the day on the boat tomorrow?” Charlie offered to the group at large, and everyone smiled and nodded their heads.
    “All of us in a rowboat?” Sylvia teased. “I suppose we could take turns.”
    “I'll try to come up with something more suitable by tomorrow,” Charlie promised. “We'll pick you up in the port at eleven.” He wrote down the phone number of the boat for her then, in case something changed. They left each other fast friends a few minutes later, and all three men looked pleased as they walked back down the hill to the tender waiting for them in the port. It was exactly what they loved about their trips together. They went to fun places and met interesting people. They all agreed that the evening they'd spent with the group that night had been one of their best.
    “Sylvia is an amazing woman,” Gray commented admiringly, and Adam laughed.
    “Well, at least I know you're not attracted to her,” Adam said as they reached the port. The tender was waiting for them with two crew members standing by. They were on duty at all hours, whenever Charlie and his friends were on the boat.
    “How do you know I'm not attracted to her?” Gray asked with a look of amusement. “Actually, I'm not. But I like her head. I loved talking to her. She's incredibly honest and perceptive about the art scene in New York. She's a no-nonsense kind of person.”
    “I know. I could see that while she was talking to you. And I know you're not attracted to her, because she's not nuts. She looks about as normal as it gets. No one's threatening her life, she doesn't look as though she'd put up with being abused by anyone, and she doesn't look as though her prescription for antipsychotic medication just ran out. I don't think there's a chance in hell you'll fall for that one, Gray,” Adam teased. She was nothing like the women Gray normally wound up with. She looked entirely put together, totally competent, and completely sane. Saner than most in fact.
    “You never know,” Charlie said philosophically. “Magical things happen in Portofino, it's a very romantic place.”
    “Not that romantic,” Adam countered, “unless she has a nervous breakdown by tomorrow at eleven.”
    “I think he's right,” Gray said honestly. “I have a fatal weakness for women who need help. When her husband left her for someone else, she picked up her kids and moved to New York without a penny. Two years later she was running a gallery, and now it's one of the most successful in New York. Women like that don't need to be rescued.” He knew himself well, and so did his friends, but Charlie was still hopeful. He always was, even about himself.
    “That could be a refreshing change,” Charlie suggested, smiling at him.
    “I'd