Rachel stood up and walked to her desk, then put her legal pad into her briefcase. “I just think that so many people are out there trying to make a connection,” she continued. “To find someone who might want to love them. And sometimes we have to make that happen however we can, even if it means dressing up in an animal suit. I don’t judge any of my clients, or anyone for that matter. As long as they don’t hurt someone else or themselves, then I think it’s all right.”
“So then why are you trying to convince them to put their suits away?” Dec asked.
“That’s not what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to give them a way to see what affection and attraction can be like outside the suit. And maybe they’ll find out that they can function pretty well without all that fake fur.”
Dec walked to the door, then stopped Rachel before she opened it. He ran a finger along her jawline then gave her a gentle kiss. “I don’t know how you do it,” he murmured.
“Do what?”
“You don’t make judgments,” he said.
“I don’t see the point,” she said. “When it comes to sex and love, sometimes the journey is as important as the destination.”
Rachel looked up into his eyes, losing herself for a few moments in the deep blue depths. Was he falling in love with her? Or was that just her imagination playing tricks on her? Or was it wishful thinking? He seemed genuinely fond of her, that much she could say. But Rachel still couldn’t separate the man from the job. How much of what he said and did was part of his protecting her?
“I think I’d like to go home,” Rachel said.
“All right. Let’s go. I’ve got some things in the fridge we can make for lunch.”
“No,” Rachel said. “I want to go to my house.”
Dec paused. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“I don’t care. I just want to lay down on my bed and close my eyes and pretend that my life is going to get back to normal soon. If you’re good at what you do, then you can protect me there. At least for a few hours.”
“All right,” Dec said. “But when I say it’s time to leave, then it’s time to leave.”
Rachel nodded, then smiled. “Thanks,” she murmured.
They walked out of the downtown office building and strolled the two blocks to where Dec had parked the car. They’d driven only a few minutes when Dec cursed softly. “I think we’re being followed,” he murmured.
Rachel twisted to look out the back window, but he stopped her. “Don’t look. Just pretend we don’t see her.”
“It’s her?” Rachel asked.
“I’m not sure. Let me try to lose the tail and we’ll see.” He made a couple of crazy turns, switching lanes at the last minute and watching in the rearview mirror. Rachel held her breath, her heart slamming in her chest. Every now and then, she could see the car in the side view mirror. But then, suddenly, she watched as it turned off behind them.
“Is she gone?”
Dec nodded. “For now.”
“It was probably just someone going in the same direction as we were. Now we’re both getting paranoid.”
“No,” Dec said. “That car was definitely following us. And it fits the description of the car that Jerry gave me.”
“Jerry gave you a description?”
“Of a car that he’d seen around the station,” Dec said. He shook his head. “I don’t like this, Rachel. I don’t think we should go to your house. It just doesn’t feel right.”
“Can we at least just stop there?” Rachel begged. “I need to pick up some more clothes and I forgot to grab that cookbook that I wanted.”
“We’ll go tonight,” he said. “After things quiet down. I promise.”
“All right,” she said.
He stared out the front window, watching the traffic and glancing in the rearview mirror every few seconds. Rachel hated when he was forced to be the professional. The Declan Quinn she loved disappeared-the humor, the wit, the boyish charm-and was replaced by a cool, calculating stranger.
“So, how do you think I’d look in that maid’s outfit?” she asked.
A grin twitched at his mouth and after a moment, he chuckled. “Pretty damn good,” he said.
10
RACHEL STOOD AT THE top of the stairs and called down to Dec. “Did you find the cookbook?”
“No,” he shouted. “What’s it called again?”
“
“You are such a girl,” Rachel muttered to herself.
She grabbed a flowered skirt, then turned to walk to the dresser. But she froze when she saw a woman standing in the middle of her bedroom. Slowly, the woman aimed a gun at her and Rachel felt the blood suddenly run cold in her body.
They stared at each other for a long time without speaking. And then, Rachel realized she knew the woman. “Marcy?”
“I didn’t think you’d remember,” Marcy said. “When Daniel introduced us at the Christmas party, you barely looked at me. I knew right away.”
“Marcy, what are you doing?”
“What I should have done weeks ago, only I was too afraid. I’m not afraid anymore.”
“How did you get in?” Rachel asked.
“The key. You had an extra in your desk at the university. I took it.”
“Rachel!” Dec’s voice echoed up the stairs. “I found it. Now come on, let’s go. It’s getting dark.”
Marcy slowly crossed the room and held the gun up to Rachel’s head. “Answer him,” she said. “Answer, or I’ll shoot.”
“All right.” Rachel called, “I’ll be down in a minute. I’m just looking for that outfit that we talked about in the car.” Rachel said a silent prayer that Dec’s curiosity would get the better of him. She couldn’t deal with this alone. He would know what to do.
“Sit down,” Marcy said. “On the end of the bed.”
Rachel did as she was told and Marcy sat down behind her. Closing her eyes, Rachel tried to gather her courage. If she could get Marcy talking, maybe she could convince her to put the gun down.
“How did you know about the radio station?” Rachel asked.
“You told my husband and he tells me everything about you. He’s concerned about this stalker you have and of course, I pretend I’m concerned, too. But I’m really not. I’m just listening and smiling and waiting for my chance.”
Marcy’s voice trembled and Rachel imagined her finger twitching on the trigger of the handgun. “You don’t want to do this, Marcy,” she said. “There’s no reason.”
“I want you out of our lives,” the woman shouted, anger turning her voice strident. “Ever since you came around, things have been different.”
“That’s not true,” Rachel said.
A moment later, Dec appeared in the doorway. Rachel looked at him, sending him a silent plea. “Declan Quinn, this is Marcy Ellsworth, Daniel’s wife. She just stopped by for a visit.”
Marcy quickly got to her feet and stood beside Rachel, the barrel of the gun now pressed against Rachel’s temple. Dec held out his hand and slowly moved forward. Though he was there to protect her, she couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt because of a situation she had caused. “Don’t, Dec,” she said, stopping him in his tracks. “It’ll be all right.”
