Breeding Ground by Sally Wright Page A

dangling from his lips, which made Jo laugh out loud.
    â€œHey, give that back! You think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?” Jo went in and rubbed behind his ears, and he dropped the scrap on his straw bedding, before he licked the sleeve of her shirt.
    Jo scratched his withers for him, and talked to him for another minute, feeling better than she had all day.
    They’d already ordered, in the restaurant of the Lafayette Hotel, where a bottle of Burgundy Alan thought well of sat opened on their white linen tablecloth, ready for him to pour.
    Jo had dressed up for the first time since the funeral in high heels and a good black suit with a café-au-lait silk blouse. She’d wrapped her hair up in a half-chignon so the ends curled on one side, and she’d worn the cream-colored jade earrings Tommy had brought her from Hong Kong when she’d graduated in Architecture from the U. of M.
    Alan had grinned at her, at her front door, and said, “You look nice. I hardly recognize you without Tom’s sweater.” Which meant that later, at the Lafayette, when Jo smiled at the dinner table, Alan asked, “What’s so funny?”
    â€œYour smart remark about Tommy’s sweater. If you hadn’t asked extremely intelligent questions in the car, I might not—”
    â€œDid I?”
    â€œWhen I told you about Jack. I might not think you’re a serious person.”
    â€œOh, I’m serious alright. Many have said too serious. Most of them women.” Alan unbuttoned his navy blue jacket and smoothed his dark gray tie, as he smiled across at Jo.
    â€œYou don’t look like you care a whole lot.”
    â€œNo? Maybe it depends on the woman.”
    â€œSo you think women are frivolous?”
    â€œSome are. Some aren’t. Just like men.”
    â€œTrue.” Jo nodded, and changed the subject, asking if he always ate in restaurants as nice as the Lafayette’s.
    â€œHardly ever. I thought one night of good food and fine French wine might do both of us good.” He poured the Burgundy, as their soup arrived, and looked at her appraisingly.
    Which made her feel even more self-conscious than she had when he’d knocked on her door. “So when do you think you’ll go and see Jack? I saw him for a little while this afternoon and he seems to be doing better.”
    â€œTomorrow after work, if I can. Have you listened to much of Tom’s tape?”
    â€œI listened to some of the training part. Who was the ‘Shanghai Buster’?”
    Alan laughed, before he said, “William Fairbairn. Better known as ‘Fearless Dan.’ He was a British Army Captain who came up through the ranks of the Shanghai police during the twenties and thirties. He created the first S.W.A.T. team, and developed a hand-to-hand combat system that combined his own version of street fighting with traditional jujitsu.”
    â€œWere you and Tommy trained by him?”
    â€œYes. Most of us were. In what he called gutter fighting. He was a small guy. With big glasses. Who was deceptively unthreatening looking. He actually taught us to fold a newspaper into a knife that could kill.” Alan sipped his Burgundy, and passed Jo the rolls.
    â€œReally!” Jo was staring at Alan – the strong face, the dark hair, the green eyes watching her back, the thin white scar in the ten-o’clock shadow on the left side of his jaw. “You don’t look like a hardened killer.”
    â€œDid Tom?” Alan smiled, then ate the last of his lobster bisque.
    Jo said, “No,” after she’d thought about it. “But I knew from experience he was plenty tough. You never met Jack?”
    â€œNope. Our paths never crossed. So why haven’t you listened to the rest of Tom’s tape?”
    â€œI’m working on it now. I needed time to miss him. To get over it a little before hearing him tell me the horrible things he had to live