remained on her desk. Knowing she was spinning her wheels, Tess put it in her briefcase to take home.
Three times she caught herself looking toward her door with her pulse throbbing.
Ridiculous. Determined not to be a fool, she checked the next day’s appointments. There were two policemen outside, she reminded herself, and one in the lobby. She was perfectly safe.
But each time she heard the elevator hum in the hall outside, she felt a jolt.
If she went home now, the apartment would be empty. She didn’t want to face solitude there now, not now that she was sharing the apartment with Ben.
What was she getting into? Sighing, she began to gather the rest of her things. She was over her head with Ben Paris. Just how did the eminent Dr. Court deal with falling in love? Very poorly, she decided as she went to the closet for her coat.
If it were spring, she’d have an excuse for daydreaming and smiling at nothing in particular. Smart people fell in love in spring, she thought, when everything was fresh and seemed as though it would stay that way.
She stopped at the window. The trees that marched along the street in front of the buildings were dark and naked. What patches of grass could be seen were already yellowed and tired. People huddled inside their coats, heads bowed against the wind. It wasn’t spring, she thought, feeling foolish. And everyone’s hurrying home.
Then she saw him. He stood very still in his black coat, just in back of a group of young trees. Her breath caught. Her knees trembled. Watching-he was waiting and watching. Instinctively, she swung around for the phone, grabbing it from her desk. She’d call downstairs, she thought as she began to punch buttons. She’d call and tell the police that he was outside, watching. Then she’d go down too. She’d go because she’d promised herself that much.
But when she turned back to look, he was gone.
She stood there a moment, the phone in her hand, the number half dialed. He was gone.
Just someone on his way home, Tess told herself. A doctor or lawyer or bank executive walking home to keep fit. She forced herself to walk back to her desk and calmly replace the phone. She was jumping at shadows. Because her legs were still unsteady, she sat on the edge of the desk. Layer by layer she rebuilt control.
Diagnosis, acute paranoia.
Prescription, hot bath and quiet evening with Ben Paris.
Feeling better, she drew on her cashmere coat, hefted her briefcase, and tossed her purse strap over her shoulder. After locking her office, she turned and saw the knob on the reception-area door turn.
The keys in her hand slipped out of nerveless fingers. She took a step back into the door she’d just locked. The door opened an inch. The scream backed up in her throat, bubbling hot. Frozen, she stared as the door opened a bit more. There was no maze to run through, no place to go. She took a deep breath, knowing she was on her own.
“Anybody home?”
“Oh, Jesus, Frank.” Her knees felt like butter as she braced herself against her office door. “What are you doing sneaking around the halls?”
“I was walking down to the elevator and saw the light under your door.” He smiled, delighted to find her alone. “Don’t tell me you’re taking work home again, Tess.” He stepped inside, strategically closing the outer door at his back.
“No, I keep my laundry in here.” She bent to retrieve her keys, furious enough with herself to let him feel the backlash. “Look, Frank, I’ve had a long day. I’m not in the mood for your fumbling attempts at seduction.”
“Why, Tess.” His eyes widened, and so did his smile. “I had no idea you could be so… so aggressive.”
“If you don’t get out of my way, you’re going to get a close-up view of the nap of this carpet.”
“How about a drink?”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” She pushed past him, took hold of the freshly pressed sleeve of his jacket, and yanked him into the hall.
“Dinner at my place?”
Setting her teeth, Tess switched off the light, closed the door, and locked it. “Frank, why don’t you take your sexual delusions and write a book? It might keep you out of trouble.” She whipped past him and punched the button for the elevator.
“You could be chapter one.”
She took a long breath, counted backward from ten, and discovered, to her amazement, that it did nothing to calm her. When the doors slid open she stepped inside, turned, and blocked the opening. “If you like the shape of your nose, Frank, don’t try to get on this elevator with me.”
“How about dinner and a hot tub?” he said as the doors started to close. “I know a great place for Chicken Kiev.”
“Stuff it,” she muttered, then leaned against the back wall.
She was nearly home before she started to laugh. It was possible, if she put her mind to it, to forget about the police car behind her, to block out the fact that on the third floor of her building cops were drinking coffee and watching the early news. A two-car accident on Twenty-third held her up an extra fifteen minutes but didn’t spoil the mood she was building.
She was humming when she unlocked the door to her apartment. After wishing briefly that she’d thought to pick up fresh flowers, she went straight to the bedroom and stripped. She chose the silk kimono again, then dumped a double shot of bubble bath under the stream of water pulsing into the tub. She took the time to put an album on the stereo. Phil Collins bounced out, happy to be alive and in love.
So was she, Tess thought as she lowered herself into the steaming water. And tonight she was going to enjoy every minute of it.
When Ben used his key to get in, he felt he was home. The furniture wasn’t his, and he hadn’t picked out the paintings, but he was home. The cardboard box was warm on the bottom, where he held it. He set it on the dining room table, on top of the linen placement he imagined had taken some little French nun the better part of a week to embroider, and wished he could crawl into bed and sleep around the clock.
He put the paper bag he carried next to the pizza before he stripped out of his coat and let it fall over the back of a chair. Peeling off his shoulder holster, he dropped it on the seat.
He could smell her. Even here, barely three steps inside the door, he could smell her. Soft, subtle, elegant. Drawing her in, he found fatigue warring against a need he’d yet to find a way to curb. Tess?
“Back here. I’m in the tub. I’ll be out in a minute.”
He followed her scent and the sound of water. “Hi.”
When she glanced up at him, he believed he saw her color rise a bit. Funny lady, he thought as he moved over to sit on the edge of the tub. She could make a man pant in bed, but she blushed when he caught her in a bubble bath.
“I didn’t know how long you’d be.” She stopped herself from sinking farther under the cover of bubbles.
“Just had
Embarrassment faded as quickly as it had come. “It was a rough one, wasn’t it? You look exhausted.”
“Let’s just say it was one of the less pleasant days on the job.”
“Want to talk about it?”
He thought of the blood. Even in his business you didn’t often see that much. “No, not now.”
She sat up to reach over and touch his face. “There’s room in here for two, if you’re friendly. Why don’t you take Dr. Court’s reliable prescription for overwork?”
“The pizza’ll get cold.”
“I love cold pizza.” She began to unbutton his shirt. “You know, I had a rather strange day myself, ending with an invitation for Chicken Kiev and a hot tub.”
“Oh?” He rose to unsnap his pants. The feeling that went through him was ugly, and unrecognizable to a man who’d never experienced basic jealousy before. “Doesn’t seem too smart to turn that down for cold pizza and bubbles.”
“More fool me for refusing an evening with the handsome, successful, and excruciatingly boring Dr. Fuller.”
“More your type,” Ben muttered, sitting on the John to pull off his shoes.
“Boring’s more my type?” Tess lifted a brow as she leaned back. “Thank you very much.”
“I mean the doctor, the three-piece suits, the Gold American Express Card.”
