“He beat both of you, didn’t he?”
Jaw tight, spine rigid, Steve stared straight ahead of him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The tension left his body, and he lifted his head to gaze at her. “Why? You didn’t do anything. If anyone should apologize, it’s me, for dumping all of this on you. Anyway, a few months ago I was feeling at loose ends, so I took it up again. I’m taking lessons at the university.”
How like Steve to apologize for unburdening himself. That was the way he was. He never lost his temper. He never fought. He never showed any weakness. Except for that brief, astonishing challenge earlier that evening, he never showed any reaction whatsoever. And he never burdened another person with his problems. Not even when the person in question was the one person in the world he should feel free unburdening himself to: his wife.
If anything should serve to underscore how little she knew him—how little they knew each other—it was this revelation. How could she have been married to the man and not known how much he loved music, how beautifully he played?
She couldn’t help picturing him as the ten-year-old he’d been; couldn’t help imagining the fear he must have felt, and the pain, when his secret was discovered. Reading between the lines again, she was convinced he would have tried to lessen the impact of the beating on his mother. The frail, skinny ten-year-old she’d seen in the one pitifully thin photo album he possessed would have absorbed the brunt of the brutality.
The mental image made her want to go to him now and offer comfort for all his past hurts. What, she wondered, would he do if she did? Would he turn her away? Or would he accept her solace?
And if he did accept it, for a while, like when they were first married, things would probably go well between them. For a time, the passion that always blazed when they were together would mask any subconscious feelings of emptiness and dissatisfaction. And then, one morning, she’d wake up and realize she was living with a stranger. That, by his choice, he’d always be a stranger. She’d be right back where she started.
That was one place she most definitely did not want to revisit. “You play wonderfully,” she said.
His smile made her heart flip-flop. “Thank you.” The smile faded. “About earlier, Kate, when I dared you to kiss me. I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
Memories, she thought. Memories had gotten into him, the way they had her. And they were warping their judgment and common sense. “That’s okay. It’s been a long, trying day for both of us.”
“Yes, it has. Tomorrow will be better.”
“It certainly couldn’t be worse.” She stifled a yawn.
“You should get some sleep,” he said.
The look in his eyes made her remember she was clad only in her nightgown. She glanced over at her computer, then turned away. Never had the idea of work held less appeal. Not with her dressed the way she was, feeling as vulnerable as she did, and with Steve sitting half-naked across the room.
Unbidden, another yawn made its way past her throat. Suddenly, sleep no longer seemed an impossibility. She’d toddle off to bed, get some rest, and in the morning this unwanted attraction to her ex-husband would be history.
“I think I will go upstairs. You should get some sleep, too.”
“I’ll be up shortly.”
In the doorway, she turned back. “How long do you think it will take to catch this guy?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “A day. A week. Maybe a month. It won’t be long, Kate. Sooner or later, he’ll make a mistake. They always do. And when he does, we’ll be ready for him.”
“I hope so.” The sooner the better. “Good night.”
“Good night, Kate.” He raised the flute to his mouth and began playing.
The haunting notes followed her all the way to her room. He really was the Pied Piper, she thought. And if she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself led into deep waters from which she couldn’t swim.
“What time do you normally pick up the mail?” Steve asked.
Kate put down her pen and swiveled in her chair to face him. This morning, he’d traded in his gray suit for one of navy blue His shirt was still white and crisply pressed, his tie sober and cinched tightly at his neck. His close-cropped hair was slicked back from his forehead. There were no bags under his eyes, no telltale signs to indicate he’d sat m that very seat, playing his flute, until nearly four in the morning. A fact Kate knew all too well, since she’d lain awake that long, listening to him. In short, he was perfectly put together, not a stray hair or wrinkle to be found. He looked as refreshed and as awake as if he’d received a full eight hours of sleep.
And she was so tired she could barely see straight.
He couldn’t be comfortable, Kate decided, yawning as she glanced down at her ancient yellow T-shirt and jeans that could hardly be called blue anymore. Her right kneecap poked through where the fabric had worn away from countless washings. Her feet were bare. Her hair was clasped into a barrette at the base of her neck to keep it out of her way while she worked. She wore no makeup.
There was no way she’d be able to be creative if she spent her days straitjacketed m formal wear the way Steve did. It would be too confining. Too stultifying. Too uncomfortable.
Trouble was, he didn’t look confined. He didn’t look at all stultified. And he most assuredly didn’t look uncomfortable. What he looked was...expectant, as if waiting for her to say something.
“Kate?” he prompted.
Blinking, she mentally shook her head to clear it. Contrary to her prediction the night before, she was as aware of him as ever. Whether terrified for her safety, or tired and cranky, it seemed she just wasn’t going to be able to ignore him. Fine. So be it. She accepted the fact that he still had the power to draw her, probably always would. He was that type of man. But just because he possessed the power, it didn’t mean she had to bow before it.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I lost my train of thought. Did you ask me something?”
“I was wondering what time you normally picked up the mail.”
A glance at her watch told her it was nearing ten o’clock. “Anytime between now and noon. Whenever I feel like taking a break. Why?”
“Because we’re going to vary your routine a little today. I want Martha to walk to the post office and pick it up.”
Her reaction was immediate. “No.”
“You don’t think I’m going to send you, do you?” he said, arching an eyebrow.
She gave him a patient look. “Of course not. I just don’t think Martha should go.”
The woman under discussion looked up from the card table that was serving as a temporary work space because Steve had appropriated her desk for the surveillance equipment. Martha’s eyes gleamed brightly with questions. Questions that had started forming an hour earlier, when she’d first arrived and met Steve. Kate knew her assistant was dying to get her alone so she could begin voicing some of them. With any luck, that would be a long time coming.
“Why shouldn’t I go?” Martha said. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“Because it’s not safe,” Kate pointed out. “I don’t think we should take any unnecessary chances.”
“Of course it’s safe,” Martha replied. “Your biggest fan is gunning for you, not me.”
Kate winced at her friend’s choice of words.
“To be fair,” Steve conceded, his attention on Martha, “Kate does have a point. There’s a chance it could be dangerous. For the reason you pointed out, however, I think the chance is a remote one. Obviously, Kate disagrees. That’s why one of my men will follow you at a discreet distance. Kent will make sure you get there and back without incident.”
Kate stared at him in mounting frustration. Was she the only one thinking sanely this morning? Obviously lack of sleep had muddled Steve’s thought processes. Otherwise, she was certain, he would see the inherent danger in what he was proposing.
&
nbsp; “Why don’t you just send Kent? After all, he’s trained for that sort of thing.”
“Because,” Steve said, “if your biggest fan doesn’t already know you’ve hired protection, I don’t want to tip him off to it.”
“How could he not know, after all the racket you raised around here yesterday?”
Reaching beneath the desk, Steve pulled out his briefcase and set it on his lap. “I think it’s a safe bet he made himself scarce after he broke in. He didn’t want to be caught anywhere near here. None of my men saw anyone suspicious hanging around yesterday.”
She stuck out her chin. “I still don’t think Martha should go.”
“Has she picked up your mail before?”
“Yes,” Kate was forced to admit
“When?”
“When I’m too rushed to get it myself.”
“Is that a frequent occurrence?”
“Fairly.”
“Has she picked it up recently?”
Kate sighed heavily. “Yes.”
“More than once in a week?”
“A couple of weeks ago I picked it up three days in a row,” Martha volunteered, much to Kate’s dismay.
Steve’s eyes flashed with triumph, and Kate found herself gritting her teeth.
“Then it’s settled,” he said. “If your biggest fan sees Martha picking up your mail, he probably won’t think anything’s out of the ordinary. But if he sees a strange man opening your post-office box, he’ll know we’re waiting for him. We’ll have lost our element of surprise.”
He turned to Martha. “I have another favor to ask of you while you’re out.”
“Name it, and I’m there.”
After crossing to the leather sofa and taking a seat, Steve placed his briefcase on top of the coffee table and opened it. Both Kate and Martha craned their necks to see what was inside.
Kate never would have guessed that the staid, mature mother of six grown children nursed a private passion for adventure. But when Martha saw the dozen or so gizmos and gadgets that looked as if they’d come straight out of the “Get Smart” reruns Kate had adored as a child, the older woman’s eyes went wide with wonder.
“What do you want to do?” she asked, her excitement obvious. “Wire me for sound?”
Steve’s lips twitched. “Nothing quite so dramatic, I’m afraid.” He picked up an ordinary-looking quartz watch. “I want you to wear this.”
Though Martha looked disappointed, she strapped the watch around her wrist. “What’s it do?”
“It’s a camera,” Steve explained, and the woman immediately brightened. “You aim the watch face at the person you want to photograph and push that button there. It’s quite simple and unobtrusive. No one will know what you’re doing. I want you to take a picture of everyone you see in and around the post office. Maybe we’ll get lucky and capture this nut on film.”
“Since you have no idea what he looks like,” Kate said, “how do you expect to identify him, even if we do manage to get his picture?”
“That’s our job to figure out. Once the film’s developed, we’ll try to identify everyone. I know it sounds like a long shot, but I’m looking for patterns, Kate. If the same guy shows up, day after day, and he doesn’t have a valid reason for being there, we just might have our man.”
“You mean you want Martha to pick up the mail every day?” Her voice rose.
“If she’s willing.”
“I’m willing.”
Something told Kate it wasn’t going to be so easy. And the look on Martha’s face told her that her friend wouldn’t be dissuaded from the task she’d so eagerly undertaken.
Steve closed his briefcase and spoke into the mouthpiece of what appeared to be a headphone, but which was in actuality, Kate knew, a walkie-talkie that allowed him to maintain contact with the men he had placed outside.
“Kent is waiting for you out front,” he told Martha. “Don’t acknowledge his presence in any way. Try to act as normally as possible. And don’t forget to take as many pictures as you can.”
“You can count on me.” A wide grin on her face, Martha left the room.
After watching her friend’s exit on the television monitors, Kate turned back to her writing. Worry made it impossible for her to concentrate. Five minutes later, she pushed back her chair and began pacing the floor.
“She’ll be just fine,” Steve said from Martha’s desk.
Kate rounded on him. “Really? Are you willing to give me a written, money-back guarantee?”
“We’ve taken every reasonable precaution, Kate.”
Instinctively her hand went to the whistle that hung around her neck. “And what if this guy does something unreasonable? I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to Martha.”
“She wanted to do this,” he reminded her. “I didn’t exactly twist her arm.”
“I don’t care.” Kate flopped down onto the sofa, pulled her knees up to her chin and glared at him as she wrapped her arms around her legs. “It’s one thing for you and me to be at risk. I have no choice, and you’re getting paid to assume the danger. As is Kent. But Martha is a friend. A dear friend. And an employee. The only reason she’s working right now is because she insisted. I wanted her to stay away until this whole mess was resolved. So you can understand why I feel a responsibility toward her. I think it was highly irresponsible to let her go for the mail.”
“He’s never harmed her before when she’s gone to pick it up,” Steve pointed out. “I think it’s safe to assume he won’t do so now.”
“Before yesterday,” she retorted, “he hadn’t harmed me, either.”
“She’ll be just fine, Kate. Kent won’t let anything happen to her.”
“For his sake, he’d better not.”
She stared at him mutinously until he looked away. An uneasy silence filled the room. When his cell phone sounded, Steve picked it up. A second later, he was deep in conversation.
Unable to sit still, Kate resumed her pacing. After a few minutes, she stopped in front of the curtains that had been drawn across the sliding glass doors. In her current restless mood, the closed curtains seemed an affront.
“Could we at least open the drapes?” she snapped. “I’m going stir-crazy. It feels like the walls are closing in on me.”
Steve concluded his conversation and placed the phone on the desk. Ever patient, he spoke in a soothing voice. “You know we can’t, Kate. It would make you a prime target. Look, let’s talk about something. It’ll help take your mind off your worries.”
She folded her arms across her middle. “As I recall, you and I never were much good at small talk.”
“No, I suppose we weren’t,” he said with a wry smile. “We usually had...other things on our minds.”
Kate felt her cheeks warm. She wished he hadn’t said that. While it effectively distracted her from her worries, it also brought to mind things she’d rather not remember. Like the taste of his mouth on hers. The feel of his hard arms wrapped around her. The glory of his possession.
“So,” she said quickly, “what do you want to talk about?”
“You choose.”
She thought a minute. “Do you always wear a suit and tie to work?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Most of my clients serve in a professional capacity. It’s the required uniform.”
She glanced down at her jeans and T-shirt. “As you can see, the uniform around here is a lot more casual. You can dress down, if you’d like.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“Good.”
Silence filled the room. So much for that line of conversation, Kate thought. Tapping her foot, she looked at Steve expectantly. Your turn, she silently willed him.
“How’s your father?” he asked.
“Well. He retired to Florida six months ago. He has a new lady friend. I think it’s serious.”
“I’m happy for him.”
“So am I.”
Silence again. The ball was squarely back in her court. Several minutes passed while Kate twiddled her thumbs behind her back and looked at the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Anything but Steve. There had to be something they could discuss that would consume more than thirty seconds. Surely they weren’t that abysmal at small talk.
A thought occurred to her, and she grasped at it like a lifeline. “How are your grandparents?”
Steve had gone to live with them when he was thirteen, after his mother’s death. Kate had met them only once, shortly after she and Steve had married. They hadn’t said much, had been in fact coolly polite and distant. She’d left their home with the distinct impression that they didn’t approve of either her or the marriage.
“Dead,” he stated baldly.
Kate started, and her gaze flew to his face. He was staring down at the desk, his features impassive.
“When?”
“Shortly after our divorce. My grandfather died first. Heart attack. My grandmother went in her sleep a few months later.”
That explained the plushness of his office, she realized. As sole heir to his grandparents’ considerable estate, he could easily afford to present the image his prospective clients desired. Not that inheriting money detracted from his ability to provide top-notch protective services. Before long, Steve would be able to maintain those offices on his own, without aid from his grandparents’ estate. It just would have been surprising for him to achieve that level of success in such a short period of time. After all, it was only in the past year, three long years after she’d been picked up by her syndicate, that her column had really taken off.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, wishing she’d never broached the subject. “I didn’t know.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “I’m not.”
Her uneasiness forgotten, she stared at him in disbelief. “How can you be so unfeeling?”
When he raised his head, she saw that his eyes were anything but unfeeling. On the contrary, they blazed with a hatred that made him look harder than diamonds. A hatred that snatched her breath from her throat.
While she’d always known that he locked away his most deeply felt emotions safely inside him where no one could reach them, she still wasn’t prepared for their intensity, now that she’d unwittingly stumbled across the combination that unleashed them. How could any one person harbor so much hatred?
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