The whole rest of the week, the two young women tried to go about their separate lives—Sarah back to the Speech and Language clinic, and Carrie on a new FBI investigative assignment in San Francisco. Neither was perceived in any regular way, as the event of witnessing Jess Danford fall to his death from the cliffs of La Jolla marked them indelibly. For Sarah, who was welcomed back to work by her fellow therapists that week, totally unaware of her nightmarish ordeal, there was the appearance of their usual warm way.

This was also true of her young clients and their mothers. But Sarah's life had now become anything but warm and wonderful, as it was currently reduced to a series of ferried car trips by her father, to and from her workplace and then back to her parents' house for the night. Needless to say, the last thing on Sarah' once carefree mind was any attraction to men, and tough Gunther Hoffmann could have easily been a potential interest to her under different circumstances, she now simply minimized his presence in her mind.

With Carrie, Hoffmann was a different story. His recent admission to her of an interest, romantically and sexually, created and emotional atmosphere of unexpected disturbance. One which surprised the usually stoical and independent Carrie. What was it about him she found so attractive? His line of work? His mysterious ways? The heroics he displayed?  This current interest seemed almost to eclipse her involvement with her friend's dire situation, and it quickly had become a secondary, yet significant reason for wanting to return to San Diego for the weekend. For Carrie's thoughts now were not only on a stakeout strategy to capture the perverted Derek Iverson, but also to return to the warm proximity of Hoffmann and his alluring conversations.

It was, however, for both these reasons that by mid-week, Carrie had arranged for a series of weekend hotel bookings in La Jolla, to continue for at least a full month. And she arranged this at a small inn, nearby the palm tree-lined La Valencia Hotel. The quaint and private venue she had chosen was called SeaBreeze, and it was within walking distance from Hoffmann's hotel lobby and exquisite suite at the landmark premises where he had taken up indefinite residence.

When Carrie arrived that Friday evening at SeaBreeze, following a two hour flight from San Francisco, she first called Sarah, in essence to take her psychic temperature.

"Hey Little Sis . . . you never called this week. Does that mean things are going too well these days?"

"Hardly well, Carrie. I'm a goddamned prisoner now."

"Aright, so I'm here to change all that. Had any contacts with . . . Mr. Sex Tapes?"

"You always say the right things, don't you, Carrie."

"Sorry sweetie. I'm just getting to be too hard working with the force as I do. Guess I should go on a year's break. Maybe work as a kindergarten teacher for a while." She laughed.

"Well it certainly wouldn't hurt your bedside manner."

"Yeah. And speaking of bedsides . . . have you heard from our gorgeous P.I.?"

"There you go again about this guy, Carrie. Hoffmann's not that special. Really. Is he?"

"You can't tell, Miss Ice Princes?  You've lost your whole attraction apparatus, babe."

"You know, Carrie. . . I think I really have. Romance and sex are just the last things on my mind. When this is all over, I'll probably join a convent in France and spend my days gardening."

"Come on sweetie. You'll bounce back after this chapter of your life. Trust me. It's just a bad chapter. There'll be others. Wild and beautiful ones. Filled with romance and all night, sweat-dripping sex. I'm sure of it."

"Carrie! . . . Well I'm just not sure of it. . .  So where are you right now?"

"Got this amazing little place to stay. In La Jolla. They're going to let me have it just on the weekends for a while. SeaBreeze. Ever heard of it?"

"No."

"Good. I hope no one has."

"So how close are you to . . . you know?"

"Practically around the corner from him. It's going to make things easier when Hoffmann and I get to planning how to flush out Mr. Nasty."

"At least you didn't say, my nasty friend."

"See? You're starting to have a good effect  on my character."

"We'll see about that. So . . . do you have dinner plans with . . . Gunther tonight?"

"No! I have dinner plans with you, silly. It's Friday night. Where would you like to go?"

"You are so sweet, Carrie. God. I'd love to get out of my parent's house. Let's go to the Pacifico over in Del Mar, near where I used to live. Wow. I really miss that place. It's pretty high-end . . . but dinner will be on me. Special treat!"

"Now that's a deal."

"I'll get a taxi to take me over to where you are in La Jolla. And we'll go from there. South to Del mar."

"Where did you ever get all these wonderful ideas?"

"I just need to get out with my best friend, tonight, that's all. I'm so glad you're in town!"

"It's going to be great. Like old times, Sarah."

"OK, so you say this place is called . . ."

"SeaBreeze. Right off La Jolla Shores Boulevard. On Tamarack Street. Number twelve."

Great. I'm writing that down . . . So . . . nine o'clock sound good? That's in two hours."

"Perfect! And this time . . . can you believe? I even brought some clothes."

"Hmmm . . . I'm sure you did."

"Sarah?"

"I know. I promised. So . . . I'll make the reservation now."

"Super. See you soon!"

* * *

The girls arrived at the Pacifico restaurant, at nine-fifteen. They walked carefully up the bronze stairs in their high heels, looking back over at the expansive ocean view. Once at the top entry, they were greeted by the maître d  who took them inside to a window seat amid a full house of patrons. Most were the ages of Sarah and Carrie. Mid-twenties to thirty, though there were also the older, refined, and obviously well-monied-set. The clientele traditionally at this eatery haled from La Jolla, Del Mar, and the surrounding ocean view neighborhoods so coveted on the San Diego coastline. Both girls had dressed for the place, wearing classy, primitive print dresses, complimented by attractive earrings, a subdued necklace, and just enough make-up for a candle-lit evening out.

"Well, I don't know what you think, Sarah, but I believe we're two of the hottest babes in this place tonight."

"I wish I shared your enthusiasm . . . and opinion, Carrie. But I'm just happy to be in the company of a great friend. Away from my mother's cooking and . . . well, yeah, I guess feeling kind of alive again."

"Great! So that calls for a couple of margaritas, Little Sis. I want to get you drunk tonight."

"Carrie!  Do you ever stop with those naughty ideas of yours?"

"Never!"

"Thought so. Well I'm not getting drunk tonight. I was just hoping to get a brilliant plate of salad and their fabulous grilled mahi mahi."

"Oh! Is that still their specialty here?"

"Yes, and as I recall, still pretty delicious."

"You must have come here a lot with your parents, huh?"

"Oh my God, yes. And when I was young I hated these menus. I would have killed for just a burger and a coke."

Carrie laughed.

Soon their drinks were ordered from a short-skirted barista and they were munching on bread sticks while reading the menu. After several minutes, a tall waiter with a short athlete's haircut came out. He was wearing a crisp while shirt and bow tie. He introduced himself as 'Roger.' He was good-looking, and obviously a bodybuilder from the size of his biceps."

"So how are you ladies do'in tonight," he asked in a slightly southern accent.

"We're great," Carrie offered. "And looking incredible!  Don't you agree, Rodge?"

The young man smiled, and not missing a beat, confidently responded.

"Well I was just about to tell ya'll that. But didn't want ya to take it all wrong or noth'in."

"You can tell that to me anytime, Rodge," Carrie said, laughing out loud.

Sarah just glared at her.

"Well, I'll be your waiter tonight, ladies. So, when ya'll are . . . good and ready . . . I'll be back to take those orders."

"That will be fine," Sarah interjected coolly.

With that, the young man smiled at each of them and bounded away, while Carrie was privately laughing again.

"I was just about to tell him, I was . . .  good and ready now!"

Sarah didn't laugh. "I know. That's exactly what you were going to say. Now can you just behave tonight?"

"OK. Drink your drink, grandma."

"Carrie . . . are you like this in San Francisco when you go out?"

"I'm worse, honey! But there, most of the men . . . really the most gorgeous ones, are usually more interested in the male clientele. And well,  actually they give me the best comeback lines, I have to say."

"Carrie. Maybe we should be talking about . . . my case or something?"

"Absolutely NO!  Not tonight. I want you to get yourself back, Sarah. You need this. There'll be plenty of time to discuss other things . . . all weekend."

"OK, I'm sorry. You're right. I do need this."

With that, Sarah picked up her margarita, and seemingly drank half of it.

"That's my girl. A few more of those and you'll feel like going clubbing after dinner."

"Yeah, right."

"Don't rule anything out tonight, little Sis. You're in very good hands. And as you know, I'm fully armed if danger comes our way."

"God help us both, but . . . that is  rather comforting."

"I'm not kidding, Sweetie. I took out my weapon on a guy just this week. It was on a drug bust."

"Yikes. So can we talk about . . . Netflix or something?"

At that moment Roger the waiter came back.

"Alright," he said. "So what do you two absolutely gorgeous ladies want to order this evening?"

Sarah stared quickly over the top of her menu at Carrie as a strong deterrent of what was on her mind as a shocking reply.

Carrie took the hint, and refrained from any flirtatious, or even worse response.

"Well. I'll have the fresh calamari in cilantro sauce and an avocado salad," Carrie beamed.

"Excellent choice," Roger answered, quite expectedly. 

He then turned to Sarah.

"And I would like the mahi mahi  platter . . . with the house salad."

"Nice choice," he added, collecting their menus.

"Oh," Carrie jumped in. "And we'll have two more margaritas, Rodge. So keep your eyes on us. You see . . . Sarah here, can get pretty wild after just two."

The young waiter looked down skeptically at Sarah. 

"Is that right, Sarah?"

She felt her face flushing. "No. That's not right," she said quietly. "But I think you can tell who the trouble maker at this table is," she added, scowling at her friend.

"I absolutely think you're right, Miss Sarah," the broad-shouldered young man responded, feigning a serious look. "So I'll be sure to tell the bouncer."

A slight unexpected smile could be seen forming on Sarah's face, which she hid by taking another sip of her drink. Carrie just laughed again, while the waiter turned officiously and left them for the kitchen.

* * *

The girls savored their meal for an hour while talking. Mostly about high school and people they once knew, but now who seemed to have slipped off the face of the Earth.

"And what about that girl in our senior history class, Carrie? Remember?"  Sarah was beginning to slur her words from the drinking. "The one that was . . . was supposed to be giving the guys, you know . . . for writing her papers?"

"Oh yeah!" What was her name? She left school before graduation. God. What would she be doing now?"

"Probably the CEO assistant for some . . . I don't know . . . Fortune Five-Hundred company or something."

"No doubt," Carrie said, grinning wistfully.

Both of them were just finishing off their third margarita when Carrie's smartphone rang inside her purse.

"Hold on a sec, Sis."

She fished it out of her handbag with some coordination difficulties.

"Hello? . . .Oh hey, Gunther!  Yeah. We're together. Having dinner. You?"

Sarah was listing down a little in her chair, but still attentive to Carrie's side of the conversation.

"Well hell, then. Just come over here to the Pacifico for an aperitif  with us. We're wrapping up dinner but would love to see you tonight."

Sarah was glaring again at her now.

"Yeah," Carrie went on. "We're in Del Mar. Pacifico Restaurant. OK then use your damn GPS. But get here before we pass out. Many margaritas have met their fate with us."

Sarah was now frantically waving her hand to signal a veto to the plan.

"Great. Just get here, Gunther," Carrie continued. "I've got some news to share about Iverson."

Sarah's previous good disposition left her face at the sound of Derek's name.

"OK. We'll see you soon." Carrie clicked off her phone and put it back in her bag.

"Come on, Sarah. Cheer up. He won't be long. Said he had already eaten. Just wanted to see us for a few words. You know how he is . . . totally mysterious. And that just dives me wild that he's like that!"

"Oh Come on, Carrie are we going to go there again now ?"

"It depends on how he is. What he says . . . God. I might just jump his bones tonight. Right here at this table."

"Well that's when I'll get in a taxi, sweet one and leave you animals here. You've got me pretty drunk . . . just as you planned, Carrie. But I can make it home alone if you two start any funny business."

"Come on, Grandma Sarah. You just need to lighten up."

"I'm afraid I'm a little too lightened up, Carrie. I haven't been this drunk . . . in a super long time."

"Well, we'll have a light dessert or something to soak up the alcohol."

"No. Just let me lay down under this table and sleep, OK?"

"You might just get your way . . . if Gunther looks as hot as he did last week in his hotel."

"Carrie!"

* * *

It took twenty-five minutes for Hoffman to arrive at the Pacifico.  When he walked up to their table, he was as cool as ever, still wearing his Panama hat with the black band. He removed the hat in their presence, leaving him standing before them in a black safari style shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of khaki pants and a rather expensive looking belt with an ornate silver buckle.

"I was actually here once before," he said, taking a seat across from them both with his back to the window. "Great food as I remember. The mahi mahi  was tremendous."

"That's the dish Sarah just had," Carrie said, suddenly with more energy in her voice.

"Did you enjoy it, Sarah?" Hoffmann asked, turning and smiling at her."

"Yes, Mr. Hoffmann. It was quite good."

"Well I must say, the both of you look . . . ravishingly attractive tonight."

Both girls smiled but were speechless. His blue eyes were sincere and it looked as though he had spent much time in the sun since they had last seen him. This gave his face a radiant and healthy glow. His light-colored, short cropped beard, like his hair, now contrasted with his tanned face, giving Hoffmann an even more special presence. Like a popular actor or fashion model.

"Well Carrie, you and I have much to discuss about our stakeout plans. But not this evening. As I can see . . . this is a special time for you two. To reconnect around better circumstances and . . . well I'm just pleased to be able to join you both in this more reminiscent atmosphere."

"We have had exactly that, Gunther," Carrie offered. "Some great reminiscing about school. Some some laughs . . . and tears about how quickly it all passes."

Sarah just quietly nodded. But for some reason she could not take her eyes off this man who just a week before had saved her life in a spectacular way. In her half-inebriated mind, she thought she should be kissing and thanking him profusely for his self-endangering bravery. Instead, she just kept staring and offering him a smile when the moments were appropriate.

"Well, on that note . . . the ephemeral nature of life. . . I propose a toast to us all three, then. To have a very long one!"

Without waiting for their response, Hoffmann raised his hand into the air. The barmaid, who had been watching him since he came in, attended to the table immediately.

"Could you bring us six shots of tequila? Cuervo Gold?"

"Certainly, Sir," the girl said, smiling.

It entered both of Carrie's and Sarah's minds that anymore alcohol would be putting them each directly on a slippery slope, but the two were too paralyzed to interfere with Hoffmann's enthusiastic toast.

When the drinks were brought out on a tray, each took one of the miniature chrystal glasses and Gunther Hoffmann led the way for all, downing the warm, rusty colored liquor in one gulp. The girls quickly did the same.

"Now. I ordered two of these shots for a good reason, ladies," he said more seriously. "For after what I am about to tell you both, you'll surely want another drink."

Both girls looked at each other amused and highly curious. They had no idea what this strange and now impeccably beautiful man was about to say to them.

As Hoffman cleared his throat, the girls leaned in a little clumsily to listen more carefully. He then placed the remaining glasses of tequila in front of them, as if ready to drown out the shock of what he had planned to say.

"As I told you two, tonight is not the time or place to discuss any of the case we are all so anxious to bring to a close. And believe me, we are near to that. But no. On this night . . . and in this exquisite place, with you two looking so beautiful, I feel it's time to tell you both something I have only briefly related to Carrie upon our last meeting."

Carrie's eyes began to widen. Was he really going to tell what she already knew? That the both of them were in his feelings of attraction? 'Romantic and sexual,' as he had told her? Carrie found herself suddenly both elated again, but at the same time highly apprehensive of how Sarah would take this shocking revelation. And how  emotionally so, Carrie worried. Besides, she began to reason, it would only cause more complications to the three of them, trying to sort out how Hoffmann could possibly act upon the same romantic interests around each of them. For Carrie had been willing to go along with this announcement rather pleasantly, as long as Sarah would not, and should not know of it. Now, if he told the two of them his same feelings it might ignite into something highly destructive—not only for Hoffmann, but for the two otherwise monogamous females and their long-lasting friendship.

Carrie just held her breath and waited for how Hoffmann would present his odd manifesto—his complicated desires for them both. Sarah was just completely clueless as to what this man, whom she now had trouble keeping her own eyes off, would say, right there at the table.

"So as you both know now, Carrie, Sarah. I had been following your movements for some time, relating to my case with Danford. This brought me to the tools of my trade. That of tapping phone conversations and following your movements almost daily. Do not be alarmed ladies, my intent at the time was only to get closer to entrapping my target, Jess Danford."

Both girls' eyes were wide and met briefly as they went on listening intently.

"But somewhere in the process, I can't say exactly when, I started to have these strong feelings about you two. An attraction, we'll call it. A strong attraction. And for the life of me . . . I have not been able to bring myself to stop it."

Sarah could feel her heart start to beat faster. It was if she were numb on the outside from the alcohol but racing on the inside now. Carrie, who had already heard these words, did not want her friend to know how they had affected her already attracted feelings toward Hoffmann—though she had made no real attempt to hide them from her friend. Now she feared, things would be different. Possibly very different.

"And you know . . . try as I did to single one of you out . . . to be the one I should in all honesty, in all decency, choose. I could not. And to this day. To this night . . . you are still just equally alluring to me. It's all quite astounding."

These words somehow were galvanizing Sarah in a way she did not expect. Hearing this gorgeous man, in all his sincerity, admit to her how much he wanted her and was willing to state it so honestly, so confessionally, cracked through to her hardened attraction apparatus in some small, but burgeoning way.

"Now please. The both of you. Do not judge me too harshly. I am a man first and foremost. With all my faults and desires, which can run too hot, as you know men. But I am only sharing this with you because you both deserve to know of it."

The two girls refrained now from looking into each other's eyes. For they both felt something powerful occurring with this man and under this unprecedented situation involving both of them, but at the same time individually. In some weird way to both, it was refreshing to experience this new feeling—though totally perverse in nature. Sarah wanted to reach out and hug Hoffmann, deserving it for saving her life, but now also to feel his soul better, and allow his warmth to invade her own. Could it be the alcohol, she wondered, that made her feel this way? Or was it this damn, crazy man who had dropped in on her life at possibly its worst time to offer her salvation?

"So I am going to ask you both tonight . . . to think of how we can solve this dilemma which affects me. How I can come to my senses and either leave you both, when this case is closed . . . or embrace you both more into my life when I'm beyond it somehow?"

The two girls were too stunned to move. To speak, or even respond, as Hoffmann did by picking up his second drink of tequila.

"Come on ladies. No decisions will be made tonight on this matter. It is just a revelation to you both of how I feel and continue to feel for you. Now please. Drink your drinks as a final salute to fate. For it will be in fate's hands how this whole situation is resolved for me."

The two slowly lifted their tequilas and downed them silently, speaking no words after.

"Now I want to show you my resolve this evening," Hoffmann said finally. "That I am a man of my word. Allow me to pay for this wonderful dinner you have had, and drive you each home safely when you feel it is time we must leave.

"I say it is time now," Sarah softy replied, avoiding to look into the face of either of them.

"Yes. It truly is," Carrie added, in an uncharacteristic and almost sad way.

As they all stood, each girl made her way over into Hoffmann's arms for a soulful and lasting hug. The smell of his heady cologne brought an enticing closure to a remarkable evening and a new beginning as to how the future would be waged among them.

* * *