Free Good Sister, The by Diana Diamond

Jennifer ordered.
    He did, showing surprise that he had stopped talking.
    “In that whole speech, which I’ll bet comes from one of your movies, you said just one thing that made sense.”
    “It didn’t come from a movie. I made it up last night. And then, when I heard how dreadful it sounded, I decided to send the Ferrari instead.”
    “You said you love me.”
    He stared at her. “Hopelessly,” he admitted. “And you understand why I can’t do that.”
    “Take a chance,” Jennifer reminded him.
    “I couldn’t promise you how it would come out,” he said.
    “You never know how things are going to come out.”
    “Most of my relationships have ended in failure.”
    “So have mine.”
    He pursed his lips, then showed the gentle smile. “Shall we have a fling at it?”
    “Let’s. But there’s one thing you should know.”
    He looked puzzled.
    “I’m not going to give the Ferrari back.”
    “Oh dear, then I suppose I’ll have to pay for it.”
    “Every penny!”

    O’Connell stood and offered his hand. “Can I drive it every once in a while?”
    “Maybe on Sundays.”
    During the last few days of the festival, they were everywhere together, formally attired at the openings, in T-shirts at the discos, in bathing suits at the beach, where Padraig built her an enormous sand castle. The gossip columnists sensed the story of Padraig O’Connell’s latest conquest and warned that one of society’s poor little rich girls was about to be fleeced. Paparazzi followed them everywhere, producing yards of film of them holding hands, dancing close together, or climbing out of the sports car.
    “She’s sleeping with him,” Catherine told Peter after she found Jennifer’s bed unused. “She didn’t come home last night.”
    “What an unusual thing for lovers to be doing,” he said.
    “Peter, this a new adventure for Jennifer.”
    “She’s a consenting adult,” he said. “You make her sound like an adolescent.”
    “The guy she’s consenting with is a master. She may be overmatched.”
    “She is. But Jennifer is smart enough to know it. She can take care of herself. Besides, the festival is closing down. O’Connell will be looking for new fish in a new pond.”
    Neither of them was prepared for Jennifer’s news, delivered from behind a napkin at the closing banquet. She wasn’t coming straight back to New York. There were roads in the west of Ireland that Padraig thought she would love. They were shipping the Ferrari on ahead and planning to spend a week in his native country.
    Catherine and Peter returned to New York, where they totaled up their victories. The festival had been a smash success for Pegasus, and Peter was more than generous in giving Catherine full credit. They had gathered over a dozen contracts, each paying up to reserve capacity on the satellite network. There were two others that began to use the service immediately. Pegasus III was generating income, less than a month after the launch.

    Jennifer was calling in every day, keeping on top of her obligations. Her only personal comments were that the West Ireland roads were indeed glorious, and that she and Padraig were having a great time.
    “You said he’d be fishing in a new pond,” Catherine reminded Peter.
    He admitted his mistake. “This seems to be O’Connell’s longest commitment to anyone since he dumped his first wife.”
    “But you’re not worried.”
    Peter took off his glasses and wiped them carefully. “No, I don’t think so. I guess I’m still delighted that Jennifer is living a little.”
    They left the car in a garage at O’Connell’s ancestral home. “How long has the place been in the family?” Jennifer had asked.
    “Almost a year now,” he had answered with his impish grin. He had kissed her goodbye at the airport, to the delight of the photographers who had been trying to keep up with them. Then he had flown to Hollywood while Jennifer had boarded the New York flight. She called from Kennedy