“Maybe if we could plant someone at her cabin…a handyman say… Of course, in that case, she’d probably choose someone local.”

Sheila sat quietly again and Harm forced himself to wait as well. The suspense was killing him.

“Suppose,” she said finally, “she brought someone with her?”

“Brought someone with her?” he repeated, sure now of her direction and almost breathless with excitement.

“Yes. A secretary or a companion. You must have female detectives who could pretend to be her secretary but would really be her bodyguard.”

Another sharp question. Smarter than he’d given her credit for. But he’d always been good at thinking on his feet and he recovered quickly.

“Of course we have female agents,” Harm answered, “any one of whom would be excellent. But…”

“But what?”

“I just had a thought. Something almost guaranteed to provide Ms. Collier with optimum personal protection and privacy.”

“And that would be…?”

“A male agent.”

“What?” Sheila barked, amazed at the suggestion.

“Certainly. Not only would she have protection from the stalker should he actually find her, but from the local wolves as well. Nothing would insure Ms. Collier’s privacy like a man around the place.”

“That makes a certain amount of sense,” she agreed. “In fact, I like the idea very much. Provided, of course, that you handle this personally.”

He wanted to jump for joy! Leap across the desk and kiss her. But the scene had to be finished.

“I don’t know, Ms. Forbes,” he feigned concern. “I mean, aside from the personal animosity that Ms. Collier seems to have for me which might make close, daily contact unpleasant for both of us, I have a business to run. I can’t just go off and leave it for three months. I have several very good men…”

“Peter Fowler is a good man,” she cut in, “and he ended up in the street, half dead. ‘Good’ is no longer acceptable, Mr. Harm, I want the best and that’s you. I’ll give you a retainer today of whatever amount you say. The arrangements in our last contract were agreeable. Have a copy sent over at your convenience. I’ll call Ellie and tell her you’ll be by tomorrow to discuss the details of the trip. Say three-ish. I’ll call you if there’s a change.”

They got to their feet and shook hands.

“Thank you, Mr. Harm. I hope this whole thing is resolved by the time you get back.”

“I hope so, too, Ms. Forbes.”

“Goodbye then.”

“Goodbye.”

For a long time after she left, Harm slouched lazily in his chair and considered his good luck. He’d gotten a second chance to catch the guy who’d almost killed his friend. So far he’d eluded the police, but he wouldn’t get away from C. A. Harm.

As soon as he got the location of this retreat, he’d send his people in to scout the place. Check out the terrain, the locals, the cabin’s physical layout. A GPS tracking device on the car. Infrared scanners and night vision scopes for stealthy, round-the-clock surveillance.

Of course, using Elgin Collier without her knowledge as bait for a lunatic didn’t sit completely well with him but he had no choice if he wanted to catch this guy. And he did want that. Very much.

Besides, she wouldn’t be in real danger; he’d see to her safety personally. That’s what he got paid to do. And a man hanging around her, living in her cabin with her, only increased the pressure, upped the chances that his quarry would be forced into making a move.

Pete hadn’t been expecting him. But Harm would be waiting. With both barrels.

“Let’s get one thing straight, from the beginning, Mr. Harm. I’m submitting to Sheila’s blackmail only because I have no choice. Personally, I’d rather eat ground glass than spend one day, much less three months with you.”

“Fine. Then you won’t be offended when I tell you I’m getting hazardous duty pay for this job.” The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

Baboon!

“If the job’s so distasteful,” she goaded, “you certainly didn’t have to take it. Yourself, I mean. Surely you must have minions you could have foisted me off on.”

“Not after what happened to Pete Fowler,” he shot back without thinking.

Elgin blanched as if the words had struck her physically. A look of real pain appeared in her dark eyes and unaccountably, he felt an instant pang of sorry. An apology formed in his throat and he had a momentary urge to reach out and touch…no, comfort her.

A look of cold fury replaced the pain. Taking a step closer, she pulled herself straight and glared up into his face.

“How dare you speak to me like that you knuckle-dragging Neanderthal,” she growled. “I didn’t shove Pete in front of that car. You put him in that street. You and Sheila and some maniac. Difficult as it may be for your macho, pea brain to accept, Pete’s my friend too.” Her voice caught and she had to stop a second to regroup.

“I’m not going to have you or anyone else laying this off on me. It’s not my fault.”

“Then who the hell’s fault do you think it is?” Harm felt his own temper rising.

“I don’t know. Some lunatic who’s developed a sick crush on me. It’s nothing I’ve done. And anyway, I thought you were supposed to catch this creep.” The snarl’s volume escalated.

“Crush?” he repeated, a short, derisive snort punctuating the word, his own voice raised. “The guy’s a nut and a pervert. But considering the porn trash you crank out, what did you expect to attract? A minister?”

Flash point!

He saw it erupt, not just in those fiery eyes but in the crimson flush spreading up her face and her balled fists.

“Don’t you say that,” she screamed. “It’s not trash and it’s not porn! I’m a good writer and don’t you dare come into my home and attack me or my writing.”

Another snort and he waved his hand dismissively.

“News flash! Ayn Rand was a writer. Agatha Christie was a writer. You? You’re no writer…you’re the madam of a literary whorehouse.”

For a long moment she stood there, trembling with silent rage, her fists clenching and opening at her sides in tempo with her rapid breathing. Harm thought she might even try to hit him and he felt his own hands close tightly.

But worse yet, he could see in the blazing fire of those deep eyes he’d blown his chance. Even if her publisher made good on her threat, he could feel that Elgin Collier had made up her mind that he wouldn’t get anywhere near her or her retreat. Ever.

“I’m…” he started.

“Get out,” she growled.

“I’m sorry.”

“Get out of my house, this instant.” The flat, cold tone of her voice more chilling than the screams.

“Ms. Collier, can’t we discuss…”

Abruptly, she turned on her heel and went to the phone. Holding it up so he could see the keypad, she placed an index finger almost touching the nine.

“You see this? That’s my emergency speed dial. Push it and in thirty seconds it will bring security. Three more minutes and this place will be full of police. I don’t think the head of Harm’s Way Security wants to be arrested and charged with attempted rape. You look like you’re in shape so I’ll give you fifteen seconds to get out of here, starting now.”

The look in her eyes told him further talk was useless and would only bring security and the police. In her present emotional state, any accusation might have a ring of truth.

“God damnit!” he cursed to the empty elevator as it took him swiftly back to the lobby. He’d been this close to setting his snare. Why did she have to be such an irritating, short-fused, crazy bitch? And why did just being around her seem to make him crazy too?

Perhaps, he thought forlornly, he could give her a couple of days to cool off. Be reasonable. After all, both the stalker and the danger were very real. He could press Sheila Forbes a little more too.