LITMIR.BIZ

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know her? Not just from the TV news?” Surprised, she couldn’t keep from asking. Ransom was at her shoulder now, inches away, his stride matched to hers. Cameron felt her blood beat faster, warming her from the inside.

      “I know of her. She had a nut, a guy named Edgar Mills, harassing her on the circuit a while back. A friend of mine—the guy I’m staying with—works the stalker unit here in New York. Said he had to sympathize with the stalker.”

      “Did your friend arrest him?”

      “Gabe never had enough to make it stick.”

      She missed another step. “So Edgar Mills is still on the loose.”

      She could sense his smile in the dark. “And I suppose you’re Emerald Greer’s new best friend. You always did want connections.”

      “I always wanted to get out of some crummy, run-down house in some crummy, run-down neighborhood—”

      “In some crummy, run-down town,” he finished for her. “I can’t blame you.”

      “Well, I’m out now. I’m making a new life—for myself. Friends are going to be part of that.” As soon as she had time. She had reached the entrance to Emerald’s building, and Cameron stopped with one foot on the first step to the lobby. “So is walking to the corner bank without a shadow.”

      She felt him shrug again. His shoulder brushed hers and a slow trickle of heat crept down Cameron’s spine like the prickle of awareness last night at her door. She didn’t have to think hard to realize she’d almost prefer having to look over her shoulder for an assailant than feel any attraction to Ransom.

      “Disagree if you want,” he said. “That’s your right. It doesn’t change anything. I won’t have you end up like your father.”

      When he reached for her hand, alarm jerked along her nerve ends. Ransom held it up between them and Cameron’s twin white bandages gleamed in the dark. “How the hell did this happen?”

      “Nothing sinister. I got careless with a knife.”

      Cameron’s heartbeat slammed. His nearness surrounded her, seemed to smother her like that attacker from behind. Or a lover? By the time Ransom released her, she no longer felt chilled. She was sweating.

      “Be more careful,” he said, his eyes dark and hot.

      Hoping to comfort herself, she turned and went up the steps. The lighted lobby, with its Christmas tree, beckoned her. She saw Emerald’s doorman step out from behind his podium. “I can take care of myself,” she said like a litany.

      “With my help,” Ransom added. Then he faded again into the night.

      She had no doubt he would be waiting for her when she left Emerald’s apartment later. Waiting, in the dark.

      EMERALD GREER DIDN’T SEEM to have any friends.

      No one came to see her that evening. At midnight she summoned Cameron into the den just as Cameron prepared to leave for the day, and a sense of utter loneliness seemed to hang in the air. More than that, so did some undefined tension.

      Cameron stepped across the threshold into the discreetly lighted room all done in white: ceiling, walls, carpet, deep-cushioned chairs and sofas. It was so totally different from her own nearly barren apartment that immediately she felt out of place.

      Emerald looked edgy. Perhaps Cameron was about to be fired.

      In that case, never mind her employer’s lack of friends or her own hope for more clients like Emerald. How would Cameron pay her rent?

      Emerald flicked a glance at the phone then went to the bar. “Drink?”

      “No, thank you.” It didn’t seem wise to try being cozy with her boss.

      “Your back must be aching by now. Your hands look raw.”

      She did hurt—her cut fingers, too—but Cameron managed a smile. “The pots are clean. And breakfast for tomorrow is in the fridge.”

      Lifting her glass of wine, Emerald made a gesture with her free hand.

      “Sit down. You work too hard.”

      “I don’t mind. I have to.”

      Emerald studied her. “I suspect you always will push yourself. Even when there’s no need. You and I are alike in that.”

      So true. And they shared other similarities. Their builds, for instance, if not their opposite coloring. Although Emerald’s slightly heavier frame supported more muscle, they were the same height and nearly the same weight, Cameron guessed. Yet this very apartment pointed up their differences. It was a far cry from the program, when Cameron had lived simply, and even at first her father’s modest monthly government stipend didn’t buy luxuries. At times even food and clothing had been hard to come by. Sadly, her mother had borne the brunt of responsibility to support the family. And finally it had killed her. Cameron wouldn’t forget that soon. She needed to take care of herself.

      “I’ve worked in restaurants since I was sixteen,” she said. “After I finished culinary school in Arizona, I became sous chef in a local spot, later moved to several other places—” she had never mentioned specifics before, and only now because her father was gone “—then became head chef at a golf club before I moved to New York, where I hope to stay.”

      “You lived in Scottsdale? Phoenix?”

      The two resort communities were loaded with golf courses, but Cameron raised an eyebrow, not answering directly.

      “I left home to play tennis at nine,” Emerald said. “Thank fortune—and my lethal serve—I’ve never been back. That little upstate town was a nowhere place.”

      Surprised by the confidence, which only confirmed her suspicion that Emerald was essentially a solitary person despite her celebrity, Cameron relaxed into her chair. Where was this late-night girlie session leading? She watched Emerald pour more wine, rattling the glass with a none-too-steady hand as she detailed her own unhappy childhood before tennis. Finally, she sighed.

      “But enough of that. I’m pleased with your work, by the way.”

      Hope flared inside her. Maybe this wasn’t bad news then. If it was, why would Emerald open up to her? Cameron felt obligated to offer something, too. She wouldn’t hide the truth. She straightened—then told Emerald about her life in Witness Protection. It was the first time in three years that she’d told anyone.

      To her surprise, Emerald didn’t judge her. “That was your father, not you. Whatever his problem, you and I are self-made women. I like that.”

      Neither of them had led normal lives, Cameron realized. Could she form a personal bond with Emerald? Having admitted to her own past, Cameron seized the opportunity she’d been given. “Ms. Greer, I’d welcome the chance to continue working for you. If you have colleagues who need someone like me…”

      She smiled. “I’m also a selfish woman. I like the notion of exclusivity.”

      Cameron frowned. “I couldn’t afford just one client, if that’s what you mean.”

      “We’ll see.” She fidgeted with her glass and Cameron again thought she seemed nervous, not about letting Cameron go, but as if she was filling the silent air with conversation while she waited for something, someone.

      She had a nut harassing her…

      A clock ticked on the mantel. Twelve-fifteen. Emerald’s second sharp glance at the phone beside Cameron made Ransom’s words seem more immediate. Or perhaps Emerald simply expected her fiancé to call. But no, Grace had said tomorrow.

      Cameron’s frown deepened. She really should go. It was late, and after last night she needed sleep. Obviously, she wasn’t about to be fired…but what was going on here?

      If Cameron hadn’t wanted to avoid Ransom as long as possible, she would have left much sooner.

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