Double Take. Leigh Riker

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      Without answering, Emerald stalked from the kitchen, limping a little every few paces, letting the door swing shut behind her. Cameron stirred the vegetable ratatouille, trying not to see Grace’s glare for her employer.

      “She didn’t mean that,” Cameron murmured. “About you—or dinner.”

      “You don’t know her. Yes. She did.”

      “She’s a champion,” Cameron pointed out. “Temperamental.”

      Which had a benefit for Cameron. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Emerald’s rudeness had made her forget Ransom, at least for now.

      Grace scoffed, “She’s worried about her career. You should have been here right after her knee surgery. The first time Ron worked with her, she turned the air blue.” Grace shrugged. “Wonder how Ted Kayne will deal with her.”

      For the second time, Cameron saw that look of resentment.

      “Everything comes easy to her,” Grace complained. “Too bad she doesn’t appreciate it.” She rose from the stool at the counter as if she knew she’d said too much. “With the ‘champ’s’ permission, I’m off.”

      “Have a good night, Grace. Don’t worry about a thing.”

      “The only thing I worry about is Emerald Greer living to be a hundred.”

      Her words lingered in the fragrant kitchen and Cameron stared after her. Like Cameron, she supposed Grace was too well paid to quit her job.

      If Cameron did her own job here, did it well, she might even keep from going mad over her father’s death. She might be able to overlook Ransom and the traitorous desire he aroused in her.

      Still, working for Emerald wasn’t easy. If I didn’t need the money…

      The thought died before it had formed, to be replaced by another.

      Tell me about the money.

      Cameron pushed aside Ransom’s words, too. She couldn’t afford to indulge him or to antagonize Emerald Greer.

      In a best-case scenario, if Cameron’s wedding reception for her was a success, Emerald might recommend her to her friends, assuming she had any.

      WHILE EMERALD ATE DINNER alone that night, Cameron took an hour off. The click of silver on china from the dining room had set her nerves on edge. So did the empty echo of each movement in the silent apartment. So did Ransom’s visit last night. She needed a break. She would wash the pots and pans later.

      Outside, after taking a breath of air, she refused to check the street for any sign of her unneeded “protector.” Keeping her gaze straight ahead, she stopped first at a nearby pharmacy to buy emery boards and nail polish. In her line of work, her hands suffered every day. Then at the corner banking center she deposited her last week’s receipts. The mundane tasks should have calmed her, eased the pulse of blood in her cut fingers. But they didn’t. Cameron felt the back of her neck tingle again.

      When she turned from the automatic teller, Ransom stood there.

      Frowning at her. Wouldn’t you know.

      Cameron’s heart whapped against the lining of her coat. She shivered, feeling cold.

      His deep blue eyes regarded her in the darkness, and then the ATM. “Did you know that’s one of the most dangerous things you can do?”

      “What?”

      “Stick a bank card in a machine on the street. With your back turned to anyone who might approach.”

      Cameron eyed him without apparent interest. “I don’t need a keeper, Ransom. Quit following me. The only one after me is you. I’m perfectly safe.”

      He hitched his chin at the line of stores across the street. “There’s a suspicious character over there by the tobacco shop.”

      She barely glanced in that direction. “He’s just a homeless guy. The city is filled with them, sad to say.”

      If she could afford to do so, Cameron would start her own soup kitchen. But she didn’t even have a day off lately—for which she was actually grateful, because that meant business was getting better—and at least for now, she couldn’t afford to donate her services. Yet she knew exactly how it felt to be without a home, or roots.

      “Don’t be naive,” Ransom said. “He could be a druggie. Insane. Violent…”

      Cameron studied his grim expression. Even that couldn’t disguise his beautiful eyes. “It must be even sadder to feel so jaded about mankind.”

      “I’m surprised you don’t. Considering how you grew up.”

      “Thanks for the reminder, Ransom.” She started off down the street. He followed her again. “I never did like the U.S. Marshals. I haven’t changed my mind.” She went fifty feet before she spun around again. The whole day was getting to her. His reminder of James’s death. The money, and Destina. No sleep. Three clients today, one of them too demanding to make even the money that appealing. Cutting her hand had topped off the day, not to mention Ransom, stalking her like a madman himself. “Will you stop? I don’t need protection.”

      “That’s for me to decide.”

      “Oh,” she said, “just doing your job?”

      “More or less.” He lifted a broad shoulder, defined by his wool coat. “I’m on leave of absence,” he admitted. “Burnout,” though that didn’t seem to be the full explanation. “Too much, too long on the Destina case. Guess I should have mentioned that last night.” His breath frosted in the chill air, reminding Cameron that she felt colder by the minute. When he didn’t go on, she started marching down the sidewalk toward Emerald’s building, its cheerful Christmas lights and welcome heat.

      Ransom trailed two paces behind.

      “You work late,” he said, but Cameron wouldn’t look at him.

      “That’s how I build my business. Emerald Greer is my most important client to date.”

      “Talk about a tough case.”

      “You know her? Not just from the TV news?” Surprised, she couldn’t keep from asking. Ransom was at her shoulder now, inches away, his stride matched to hers. Cameron felt her blood beat faster, warming her from the inside.

      “I know of her. She had a nut, a guy named Edgar Mills, harassing her on the circuit a while back. A friend of mine—the guy I’m staying with—works the stalker unit here in New York. Said he had to sympathize with the stalker.”

      “Did your friend arrest him?”

      “Gabe never had enough to make it stick.”

      She missed another step. “So Edgar Mills is still on the loose.”

      She could sense his smile in the dark. “And I suppose you’re Emerald Greer’s new best friend. You always did want connections.”

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