“Look, wear the damn thing or don’t,” he growled, dropping it on the table in front of her. “It’s no skin off my nose. Me? I’m gonna take my binoculars and go for a long walk. There’s gotta be more to look at around here than your grumpy face.” Pushing back his chair, he stood up, grabbed his field glasses from the table and stomped down the deck steps toward the woods on the other side of the parking area.

Fuming, Elgin picked up her coffee mug, slouched deep in her chair and considered both the situation and the pendant shining on the wood tabletop.

A homing device, she thought angrily. Disguised as a present…a beautiful piece of jewelry to flatter and trick her like some idiot six-year old. Well she’d show him! She’d throw it off the dock into the lake. He could listen to the fishes on his Dick Tracy watch and be damned.

Don’t be silly, countered the rational part of her mind, it makes perfect sense. After all, you don’t know that the stalker hasn’t managed to follow you up here. It’s a small enough safety measure to take. And it will give you a certain amount of privacy, freedom. That is why you came up here, isn’t it? That and to write your book. You can even make the pendant a sort of ‘love token’ from the hero to the heroine. ‘Keep me close to your heart’ sort of thing.

Well, since you put it that way…

Elgin considered the small gold circle on the table. Very pretty, she admitted grudgingly. She didn’t normally wear necklaces, but she could slip it under her clothes and no one would know she had it, including she surmised, even herself.

The sound of a twig snapping echoed through the trees like a gunshot, bringing her out of her mood. No doubt he’d walked off his pout, and she’d agree to wear the necklace as a safety precaution only.

She heard the bottom step creak and the thud of a heavy boot on the wooden stairs. Inexplicably, she felt glad that he’d decided to come back. Not that she’d missed him exactly…

An unfamiliar shape, large and heavy materialized, moving rapidly up the steps. In the instant she recognized Harm hadn’t returned, a short, frightened yelp escaped her as she dropped her coffee mug and stood up, turning over her chair in the process.

He stopped dead, blinking in surprise at the sight of her.

“I…I’m sorry,” he told her anxiously. “I…I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t realize anyone was here. Forgive me, please. Are you all right?” He took a step toward her and instinctively, Elgin backed away, almost tripping over the chair.

“Who…who are you?” Her voice, filled with panic, little more than a squeak.

“Chad Comstock,” he replied. “I…I really didn’t mean to break in like this. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll leave. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Tall, lean and muscular, he stood blocking the stairs and the French doors. Black hair worn slightly shaggy, a square, rugged face, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.

“What are you doing here? This is private property. Didn’t you see the gate across the road?”

“I’m sorry. I climbed over the gate. I bought the Graeters’ house, up by the road about eight months ago. I’m an artist.” He held up a large sketchbook and wooden box she hadn’t noticed before.

“This is just about the only place a fella can get down to the lake near here. I’m afraid I’ve been coming down here to sketch. The dock, the beach, even I’m afraid, your deck. The sunsets are marvelous here. Marty…Mr. Van Scoyk said you lived in the city and didn’t come up very much. I’m afraid I sort of took advantage of the situation. Forgive me, please.”

Those full lips parted into a shy, boyish grin as he pulled off his glasses. Granite colored eyes, dark, intense mirrored that grin.

Elgin felt her initial fright melting like spring snow.

“It’s all right,” she managed, “really. You surprised me, that’s all. I…well, I didn’t expect you.”

“At least let me help you clean up the mess.” He took another step toward her.

“There’s no need,” she told him quickly. “It’s just coffee and most of it will just go through the deck spacers.”

“I feel terrible,” he told her quietly. “You could have burned yourself. Or cut yourself. Fallen over and broken your neck. It would be a shame for anything to happen to such a lovely neck.”

For a moment, Elgin had that giddy roller coaster dropping sensation that leaves you breathless and lightheaded. Terrifying and exhilarating all at once. His very presence raised goosebumps of excitement and prickles of something she couldn’t quite name.

Color raced to her cheeks and she bent down quickly, pretending to concentrate on the smashed fragments of mug. Even squatting down beside her, she felt overwhelmed and small, not just by his size but by his being there, so close she could feel the softness of his navy blue flannel shirt as his arm brushed against her.

“Well, I think that’s all of them,” she commented, trying to regain her composure as they stood up again.

“Here, let me have those,” he insisted, taking the heavy ceramic pieces from her and cupping them in his own large, strong hands. “Show me where the garbage is so we can get rid of these.”

“You don’t really…”

“Yes, I must really. Soft, lovely hands like those shouldn’t do anything more strenuous than peel the occasional grape. And since it’s my fault the mug got broken, if anyone deserves to bleed, it’s me.”

“All right, if you insist.”

“I do.”

In the kitchen, he deposited the pieces in the garbage pail under the sink.

“Well, I think that about takes care of everything,” he smiled. “I’ll get out of your hair now and, much as I enjoy sketching from here, I promise to stay on my side of the fence. Cross my heart. And I really am sorry about scaring you. If I’d known the house belonged to such a lovely lady, I would have arrived on your doorstep with roses and champagne instead of barging in with big feet and sketch book.”

That smile seemed to wrap itself around her.

“Don’t worry. I’m usually not so jumpy. I guess I haven’t shed my big city nerves yet.”

“Well, I’m usually not so unbelievably boorish. It’s just this is such a terrific place to come and work. The light. The view. The peace and quiet.

“The first day I found it, I actually did come to the door and knock but the place seemed to be empty so I went down and sat on the dock. In no time, I found myself here almost every day. Like something pulling me back. I’m going to miss it.”

“There’s no reason you can’t come down and sketch,” she smiled. “I’m usually out walking or on the lake or even upstairs working. No reason we can’t share the place.”

“That’s very kind of you. I’d like to come back. Maybe now that I know the owner, I could even get you to open the gate so I can drive down. Bring my easel and paints and do some real painting. Try for one of those gorgeous sunsets. Or something else of great beauty.”

“I think that can be arranged. I’d love to see your work.”

“Well, I’ve got my sketchbook. Charcoals mostly, but a lot of this place. I’d like for you to see them.”

“Good. How ‘bout I get us some more coffee and you can show me what you have.”

“Ahoy there!”

Elgin peered over the railing in the direction of the hail. Marty stepped on to her dock, the mooring line of a small sailboat, in hand.

“Ahoy, Marty,” she called back, waving and smiling. She watched him secure the boat and thread his delicate way to the deck.

“Oh.” His voice, face and body registered surprise at the sight of the strange man sitting so close beside his friend, a sketchbook open on the table in front of them.

“I…uh…hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Of course not, Marty,” she assured him, getting up and exchanging hugs and kisses on the cheek. “I’m always delighted to see you. Marty Van Scoyk, this is Chad Comstock. Chad, Marty.”