LITMIR.BIZ

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lingered on the next photo: Brianna, drinking wine with a good-looking, dark-haired, bearded guy at a cocktail bar. “Your boyfriend?” He hoped the question sounded motivated by professional rather than personal curiosity.

      She shook her head. “No. He’s Larry Cunningham, a colleague.”

      “A psychologist?”

      She nodded. “Yes, we share an office suite.”

      Are you sleeping with him? She looked as if she was ready to bolt from the room, so he didn’t ask, but he’d have to know sooner or later.

      He put the photograph alongside the others. “The picture Jeffries still has—where was it taken?”

      “I’m at the outdoor market near my apartment.” She shrugged. “I’m sniffing a cantaloupe.” She almost laughed. “Honestly, Michael, I can’t see any connection between these pictures, unless he’s trying to show me that he knows my schedule.”

      “Ever consider that the stalker might be a woman?”

      Her eyes widened, then her lips pressed in thought. “Possible, but I think unlikely.”

      He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs to the side of his desk. “Why? Do you think you know who’s behind this?”

      Her mouth tightened. “My first thought is Billie Ray Bennett. He’s an ex-con with a history of violence against women. He’s angry at me because I helped his girlfriend, my client, finally leave him. She’s living in another state, safely away from him, Thank God.”

      “And Bennett believes you’re the reason his girlfriend left him?”

      “Exactly.” She waved her hand. “Classic denial. It’s easier for batterers to believe the problem is with those who help their victims escape than to accept responsibility for their own abusive behavior.”

      Mike pulled a compact computer from his pocket and tapped at the keyboard. “Okay, Bennett is a start. Anyone else?”

      She took a deep breath and raked her fingers through her hair. “I—I really don’t know.”

      The crack in her confident shell tore a hole deep inside him. He wanted to gather her up, hold her close the way he did all those years ago when she’d awoken in his arms during a lightning storm, terrified and shaking.

      But he wasn’t her husband anymore. He wasn’t the man she chose to keep her safe at night. She needed his professionalism, like any other client. A professional arrangement.

      “Do you feel up to filling out some forms?” He was glad his voice sounded neutral.

      “Forms?”

      “The usual questionnaire. Address, phone number. That sort of thing.” He shrugged. “It can wait till later if you’d—”

      “Then you’ll take my case?” The surprise in her voice was genuine.

      He took a deep breath. “I can suggest one of the other TALON-6 partners if you’d rather not work with me.”

      “I-I’m surprised, that’s all.”

      “Then why did you come?” Damn, he hated the sarcasm in his voice.

      “If you want the truth…” Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear her. “Nora refused to leave New York if I didn’t make an appointment with you.” Her mouth quirked. “I was afraid she might be in danger. You know how stubborn Nora can be.”

      A family trait, as he remembered. Mike’s gaze dropped to the photographs. So Brianna was here only because of her aunt’s insistence. He swallowed, unsure how he felt about that.

      “I don’t think I’ll have any problem working with you, Michael.” She leaned forward, her voice throaty. “What’s past is past. We have our own lives. I don’t foresee any difficulty, do you?”

      Foresee any difficulty? Hell, that’s all he could see. But dammit, if she could work with him, then he’d sure as hell do his part. “No. No difficulty.” He even managed to smile. “Let me make a few calls while you fill out the questionnaire Bailey gave you.”

      He got to his feet as she nodded her understanding. He watched her rise, and when she stood, the sunlight from the window fell across her face and hair. For an instant, she looked as she had the first time he’d seen her, years ago.

      He’d been nineteen and caddying at the Cape Hope Country Club. All eyes had turned to her as she led her three male golfing companions from the clubhouse and stepped toward the sunlit tee.

      The largest of the men, the senior caddy Mike had seen around the club, had said something clever, and her smoky laughter was his reward.

      Mike could only stare, his heart hammering through his veins as she strolled to the first tee, the men in giddy pursuit. Dressed in a sleeveless white T-shirt and shorts that enhanced her sun-bronzed arms and legs, she appeared not to have noticed that she’d captured every male eye on the course.

      “She’s Brianna Kent, Harrison Kent’s daughter,” Dr. Parker had warned before taking a swing with his driver.

      “Harrison Kent? Of Kent Paper Industries?”

      “Hmm. The same. You so much as talk to her, and you’ll lose more than your job, son.”

      How right you were, Doc, Mike thought as he pushed back the thought. He’d lost the job, the woman and his very soul.

      After Brianna left his office, a trace of her perfume lingered. Mike shut his eyes against further memories that stirred in his brain.

      Damn him, he was a fool to take her on as a client. But she was being stalked. Who knew what kind of crazy might be after her? She needed his help, and no one did his job as well as he did. And regardless of all that happened between them, Brianna knew it, too.

      And maybe she was right; the past was past. They both were happy in their own lives. Why the hell not take her on as a client?

      Piece of cake.

      THE THREE-PAGE TALON-6 client questionnaire had taken Brianna only a few minutes to complete, but she lingered over the last sheet, purposely stalling. She needed time to pull herself together. She needed to calm the feelings that had been stirred up when she’d seen Mike again.

      Her fingers still trembled as she noticed her unnaturally scrunched handwriting. If Mike remembered her normal flowing script, he’d know how nervous she was. She hoped he’d think her anxiety was due to the idea that someone was stalking her, not from seeing him again.

      She thought she’d prepared herself to see him again. But when their eyes met and he’d flashed that heart-stopping grin, the years tumbled away. Memories of their kisses and being together rocked away that safe harbor she’d built for herself. She’d felt as breathless as when she’d first seen him.

      She mentally shook herself. Her nerves were shattered from worry and lack of sleep. That was all. Besides, what woman wouldn’t be affected by Mike Landis? He had always possessed that easy charm that made men envy him and women want to throw themselves at him, regardless of the consequences.

      The years had honed his good looks into white-hot sexuality. He’d always been broad-shouldered and muscular, but now he moved with a masculinity that was wickedly attractive—that is, if she was interested. And she definitely was not. She’d been around that hairpin curve and had the skid marks to prove it.

      No longer was she that naive, overly protected daddy’s princess, attracted to the town’s bad boy. Now she was a clinical psychologist who knew about life and the sex drives that motivated smart people to make foolish mistakes. She understood his dangerous side, too. His obsessive need to prove himself by overcoming any challenge.

      Seven years ago, she’d been that challenge. The daughter of the wealthiest man in town, she was everything the son of the town drunk couldn’t have.

      She suspected

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