LITMIR.BIZ

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Is that handsome fiancé of yours giving you a hard time?”

      “No. Of course not,” Stephanie denied. In fact, she had forgotten all about John Reynard when she’d been caught in the stranger’s web. Or was he caught in hers? She didn’t know which.

      She walked through the dressing area and into the bathroom, where she used the facilities, not because she needed to but because it would seem strange to simply come here and take refuge.

      To her relief, when she emerged, Marge was gone. Or was that good? What if Marge went straight down to talk to John?

      Stephanie dragged in a breath and let it out, wishing that she didn’t imagine every person in the mansion as a spy for John Reynard, yet she knew that he did have a network of informants—or at least people who were anxious to stay on the good side of such a powerful man by feeding him information about people and events he might think important.

      For example, she knew there were some new customers who had come to her shop to check out John Reynard’s fiancée. And some of them were probably reporting back to him, much as she hated to think it. But she supposed she’d have to live with that, and maybe he’d trust her more when they were married.

      She stayed at the dressing table for several more minutes, fussing with her hair, wondering whom she was hiding from—the dark-haired man or her intended. When she finally emerged and came downstairs, she didn’t see the stranger. That was a relief. Now she only had to deal with John.

      * * *

      MEN WERE WATCHING HIM, Craig realized as he filled a plate with boudin balls, Cajun rice and crawfish étouffée. Tough-looking types who didn’t exactly fit in with the other guests at this fancy event. Since they were dividing their attention between Reynard and Craig, he had to assume that they were the other man’s bodyguards. Apparently Craig had caught Reynard’s attention. Or perhaps Reynard had noticed the silent exchange when Craig and Stephanie had made eye contact. At any event, he decided it would be best to leave.

      After taking a few bites, he put down his plate on one of the trays set around the room for dirty dishes and made his way out of the house and into the parking area, half-expecting somebody to try to jump him. But apparently his leaving had the desired effect. He drove away and back to his upscale New Orleans B and B without incident.

      But what was his next move?

      He’d focused his research on John Reynard. Now he was going to find out everything he could about Stephanie Swift. He told himself he was doing his job. He told himself that digging into the woman’s life would be the key to taking down Reynard, but he wasn’t sure he was being honest about his motives. If he admitted he was obsessed with her, that would be more like the truth.

      The feeling was a novelty for Craig. He’d enjoyed the company of women. He’d learned the art of pleasing them in bed. But none of them had drawn his interest the way Stephanie Swift had.

      He had looked up details about her on the web, but that was too impersonal an approach. Switching his tactics, he decided to get a firsthand picture of her life.

      The morning after the charity reception, he waited in his car outside her apartment on Decatur Street and discreetly followed her Honda sedan to a sprawling mansion in the Garden District. It was her father’s house, he knew, and he drove around the corner and waited until she emerged about a half hour after she’d entered, a frown on her pretty features. Apparently her meeting with Dad hadn’t gone so well.

      Her next stop was her shop on Royal. When she went in, he walked past and took up a discreet position around the corner.

      He thought of himself as good at surveillance, but he wondered if she knew he was following her. Not because a normal person would have caught on, but because there was something between them that he couldn’t explain. He’d been prepared to dislike her. Instead, he’d been drawn to her when they’d seen each other at that charity reception, and she’d been as aware of him as he was of her.

      That knowledge set up an unaccustomed buzzing inside him. He hadn’t felt this way since...

      Well, since he and Sam had played hide-and-seek. Only back then it had been a different kind of game. Most kids hid and hoped that the other person couldn’t figure out where they had gone. With him and Sam, there was an extra element. One of them would hide, then try to break the connection between them—try to be as quiet as possible in his mind so that his brother would have no idea where he was.

      Sam had been better at it than Craig, who hadn’t been able to turn off his thoughts, and Sam had always found him. But why was he thinking of that now?

      * * *

      TWO DAYS AFTER the charity reception, Stephanie was still feeling unsettled as she went through the rack of clothing on the left side of the shop, buttoning blouses, straightening straps and generally making the merchandise look tidy. She struggled to stay calm, but her heart was pounding. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen, and every so often, she glanced toward the window, wondering if she was going to see the dark-haired man with the broad shoulders who had stared at her in the plantation house. Well, it hadn’t been just him. She’d stared back because there had been something about him that had compelled her interest. It wasn’t simply the way his formal attire had set off his dark good looks. She’d felt a pull toward him that she couldn’t explain, even to herself. A pull that excited her and made her nerves jump at the same time.

      The bell over the door jingled, and she went rigid. As she turned, she thought she would see the man from the reception. Instead, two rough-looking guys came striding in as though they owned the place.

      Both of them were wearing light-colored business suits that seemed out of place on anyone so tough-looking. One was short and completely bald—or he’d shaved off any remaining hair on his head. He was trying for a Yul Brynner effect, although his face was too ugly for a movie star—unless he was playing a Mafia heavy. The other guy was a couple of inches taller, with a wide mouth, bushy eyebrows and thick, wavy hair.

      They both had big hands and beady, assessing eyes. Or perhaps the better word was hungry.

      Neither one of them would inspire confidence in a dark alley at night. But here they were in her shop, and she was pretty sure that neither one of them had come to buy a dress for his girlfriend.

      “Nice place you have here,” the taller one said.

      As they stood looking her over, her mouth turned so dry that she could barely speak, but she managed to say, “Can I help you?”

      The spokesman answered. “That depends, sweetheart.”

      “On what?”

      “On what you have to offer.”

      “Nothing,” she heard herself say.

      “We’ll see.”

      She took a step back, wishing that Claire wasn’t out on her lunch break. But what good would Claire do against these guys?

      Maybe call 911 from the back room, if she’d been here.

      But Stephanie was on her own, and she was sure that they already knew it. Wishing the counter were between her and the men, she took a step to the side. One of them kept pace with her while the other one stood by the door. She saw him turn, and she had the awful feeling that he was planning to lock the three of them in there.

      Chapter Three

      Before the thug could accomplish his purpose, the door burst open, and another man charged into the shop. She had a split second to see who it was. The darkly handsome stranger from the charity reception. The other night, he’d been in a tuxedo. Today he had on jeans and a dark T-shirt.

      The man in the doorway reacted to the interruption by reaching into his coat, perhaps for a gun, but he never connected with whatever he was going to pull out. The stranger cracked him in the jaw with a large fist, then pushed him backward into the other man. They both went down in a tangle of arms and legs, pulling some

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