Hayley waved after Spencer cheerfully before releasing William's sleeve and recapturing her quill. "So," she said, tapping the feather end lightly against her chin. He was still criminally pretty; Hayley allowed herself a second's flashback to that memorable evening behind the ice Quaggacorn, not quite able to keep the grin off her face, both at the memory and at William's hunted expression. For heaven's sake, you'd think she had a battle axe strapped to her clipboard. "Which do you prefer, eight o'clock tonight or noon tomorrow?"