“She was pissed as hell.”

She tried to read his face in the shadows, but it was impossible to tell what he was thinking or feeling. Assuming that is, that he was thinking or feeling anything at all.

“I get the impression that you are not particularly devastated by the breakup in your relationship,” she ventured cautiously.

“Sure, I’m devastated. I just told you, I’m a sensitive guy. But I’ll get over it.”

“What about Kaitlin?”

“Worrying about Kaitlin’s feelings is not real high on my list of priorities at the moment.”

Hannah gazed at him in amazement. “You mean you’ve actually got a list of priorities?”

“Okay, so it isn’t a computer-generated five-year master plan like the one you’ve probably got tacked up on your bedroom wall. But some of us have to make it up as we go along.”

She winced at the thought of the list of personal goals she had made for herself at the start of the summer. It was, indeed, hanging on the bulletin board over her dresser. It was an updated, more finely tuned version of the list she had made when she graduated from high school. Formulating objectives and then plotting a course to reach those objectives was second nature to her. Everyone in her family was trained to be organized and forward-looking. As her father, Hamilton, was fond of saying, an unplanned life was a messy life.

Madisons, on the other hand, were notorious for their propensity to be driven by quixotic obsessions, quirky desires, and the occasional wild hair. When a Madison was consumed by a passion, people said, nothing was allowed to get in the way. Rafe’s casual attitude toward the breakup with Kaitlin Sadler tonight was convincing evidence that she did not rank as his passion.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Hannah said, still uncertain about whether or not Rafe was teasing her. “What’s on your list of priorities?”

For a moment she thought he was not going to respond. Then he shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather motorcycle jacket and turned slightly to face the bay.

“I don’t think my plans would be of much interest to you,” he said laconically. “It’s not like I’m going to get a Ph.D. or anything.”

She watched him, unwillingly fascinated now. “Tell me.”

He fell silent for a moment. She had the impression that he was engaged in some kind of internal debate.

“My grandfather says that when I’m not busy screwing around I have a head for business,” he said eventually. “He wants me to go to work for Gabe.”

“But you don’t want to do that?”

“Madison Commercial is Gabe’s baby. He’s in charge, and that’s the way it has to be. We get along okay, but I learned a few things about myself in the army. One of them was that I’m not cut out to take orders.”

“No surprise there, I guess.”

Rafe took one hand out of his pocket, scooped up a small stone, and sent it skipping out across the dark water of the bay. “I want to do my own thing.”

“I can understand that.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “You do?”

“I don’t want to work in a corporation or a bureaucracy either,” she said quietly. “I’m going to open my own business as soon as I graduate.”

“Got it all planned, huh?”

“Not entirely. But by the time I get out of college I should have most of the details nailed down. What about you? What’s your chief objective?”

“To stay out of jail.”

“That’s certainly an impressive career goal. I’ll bet you need to study for years and years and probably do an internship and a residency as well in order to achieve that objective.”

“Everyone I know seems to think that not ending up in prison will be a major accomplishment for me.” He swung back around to look at her. “What about you? What kind of business are you planning to open, Ms. Most Likely to Achieve?”

She took a few steps across the pebbly beach and sank down on a rock. “I’m not sure yet. I’m still researching possibilities. I’ve been talking to my dad. He says that the secret is to carve out a small niche in the service sector. One that big companies can’t fill because of their size.”

“Something along the lines of outcall massage, or maybe one of those private escort services?”

“Very funny.”

“I’ve seen the ads in the Yellow Pages. You know, the ones aimed at traveling businessmen and conventioneers. Discreet personal services offered in the privacy of your hotel room.”

“You know, your sense of humor is as limited as your idea of an evening’s entertainment.”

“Well, what do you expect from a guy who doesn’t have his Ph.D. ?”

“Too much, obviously.” She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them.

He moved to stand next to her rock. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you like that.”

“Forget it.”

“I’m sure you’ll find your niche or whatever. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“Is marriage on your list of personal objectives?”

She glanced up at him, startled. “Well, yes, of course.”

“I guess you’ll probably marry someone like the jerk, right?”

She sighed. “I was never serious about Perry. He was just someone to have fun with this summer.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not that he turned out to be a lot of fun tonight.”

“Definitely not Mr. Right.”

“No.”

“Bet you’ve got a long list of requirements that Mr. Right will have to meet before you agree to marry him, don’t you?”

The dry question made her uncomfortable. “So, I know what I want in a husband. So what? Just because you don’t make long-range plans doesn’t mean everyone else has to play their life by ear.”

“True.” Without warning, he dropped down onto the rock beside her. The movement was easy, almost catlike. “Tell me, what kind of hoops will Mr. Right have to jump through before you’ll agree to marry him?”

Stung, she held up one hand and ticked off the basics. “He’ll be intelligent, well educated, a graduate of a good school, and successful in his field. He’ll also be loyal, honorable, decent, and trustworthy.”

“No criminal record?”

“Definitely no criminal record.” She held up her other hand and continued down the list. “He’ll be dependable, kind, sensitive, and capable of making a commitment. Someone I can talk to. Someone who shares my interests and goals. That’s very important, you know.”