Undercover Fiance. Sheryl Lynn

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      Seeing his intention to hug her, she tensed for a major rebuff. Reason returned in the nick of time. Her parents’ anniversary was in ten days. Ten short days in which she to stop Pinky from harming her father. Only Daniel Tucker could help her.

      She really hated that.

      He enfolded her in an exuberant embrace. He wore a heavy coat lined with sheepskin, but the power in his lean body reached her. He wasn’t overly tall, but neither was she, and he engulfed her. The scent of soap, shaving cream and masculine warmth surrounded her and stole her breath. When he released her, she huffed a sigh of relief.

      He had brown eyes, like polished pennies, and they danced with good humor. “You look fabulous, cupcake. As usual.”

      She didn’t recall stupid pet names being part of the plan. She noticed Debbi and Kara drinking in the scene as if they watched a sappy movie. “I’m glad to see you, too, Daniel. Did you have problems finding the place?”

      “You give great directions. It’s a nice drive. I enjoyed myself.” He draped an arm over her shoulders.

      The impulse to ram her elbow into his gut nearly overwhelmed her. Smiling made her jaws ache. She could do this. She had to do this. Her father’s safety depended on it.

      “I see you’ve met Kara and Debbi. Ladies, this is Daniel Tucker. He’ll be my guest for a day or two.” Light sensations tickled her ear and neck, raising gooseflesh along her back. He was playing with her hair! She stepped away and grabbed his hand. The size of his hand took her aback. As much as his overacting ticked her off, his powerful hands reassured her.

      Kara and Debbi repeated Daniel’s name. They sounded like cooing doves. Janine refrained from rolling her eyes in disgust. “I’m putting him in the east wing. Room 202.”

      “That’s too small.” Kara typed rapidly on the computer keyboard. “You ought to give him a room over on the third floor. It’s nicer—”

      “I’ve made the arrangements,” Janine interrupted. “Come along, dear. I’ll give you that tour I promised. Kara will take care of your luggage.” She urged him to follow her into the east wing. As soon as they were out of earshot of the registration desk she stopped and turned on him. “I don’t think I made myself clear, Mr. Tucker.”

      His coat hung open, revealing an ecru-colored, cable-knit sweater. Hand knit and expensive, she noticed. The attention he paid to his clothing irked her. The attention she paid irked her even more. She had neither the time nor inclination to moon over a handsome man.

      “I’m not given to public displays of affection. And I don’t appreciate being called cupcake. No one will buy that lovey-dovey stuff. So put a cork in it.”

      He managed an expression of almost childlike innocence. “In order to flush out Pinky we have to go over the top.” He spoke reasonably, even sounded businesslike. “We can’t give him any reason to explain me away. You have to convince him that you’re madly in love with me.”

      “Anyone who knows me is well aware that I don’t madly do anything.”

      “Pinky doesn’t know you. Not you, the person. He only knows you, the object of his obsession. He has created, entirely in his own mind, the you he loves. Normal rules don’t apply. You have to shatter the image he’s created in a way he can’t justify. I thought I explained all this.”

      Subdued, she rubbed her fingertips over the headache forming in her temples. He had explained it. He acted exactly the way he’d promised. She, however, hadn’t realized how embarrassing it would be. Her ears burned as she imagined Kara and Debbi telling everyone within earshot that Janine had finally snagged herself a cute boyfriend.

      “Pinky thinks you’re a goddess. Remote, unattainable, untouchable. A woman worthy of worship. I get a sense that something happened in the past few weeks. Something that threatened his image of you. He’s trying to put you back up on the pedestal. He blames your father for whatever happened.”

      Metal rattled as a young man wheeled a cart laden with table linens out of a storeroom. Startled, Janine suddenly felt small and vulnerable. She imagined watching eyes wherever she went. She’d been sleeping poorly, overly alert for any suspicious noise in the night. Every pink envelope she received made her want to vomit. Stress headaches plagued her. Relationships with resort employees were growing strained as she wondered which one of them had invaded her privacy and threatened her father’s life.

      “Let’s go to my office,” she said. “I don’t want to talk out here.”

      She unlocked her office door. As she turned the key, fresh resentment built. She feared Pinky had been snooping around in her desk and files. Recently she’d been locking the door, even if she was only going across the hall to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

      “I know you’re scared,” Daniel said.

      She almost said, You have no idea. Except, he did. The experience with his stalker still haunted him.

      She handed over the latest missive she’d received from Pinky. “It was in my message box this morning. No envelope.”

      He unfolded the sheet of lined notebook paper. His expression darkened. He made a soft, growly noise. “‘Cut him to pieces and scatter his body for the crows to eat.’ Humph, nice imagery.” He turned the paper over and checked the blank backside. “So he’s giving up pretending to mail letters. Bad sign. Where is your father right now?”

      “He and Mom went to Denver yesterday. They’re meeting with suppliers. They won’t be back until tomorrow. I called him this morning right after I found that. He’s okay. No problems.”

      As he looked around the office, he seemed to approve of what he saw. “So tell me, what happened a few weeks ago? What set Pinky off?”

      Clueless, she shook her head. She busied her hands with straightening papers on her desk. “I have no idea what you mean.”

      “Think about it.”

      His commanding tone caught her off guard. So did the sudden blazing intensity in his eyes.

      “You have a serious situation here. Pinky has graduated from puppy love to full-blown rage.” He rattled the note. “He wants a response from you. If he doesn’t get it, he’ll escalate.”

      Even before the first threat to her father, she’d been noticing a shift in the tone of Pinky’s letters. Rage. Daniel pinpointed exactly what her instincts had been warning her about.

      “Think back to around the second week of January. Something unusual happened.”

      She swiveled her chair so she could see a wall calendar. “It’s been a snowy winter. We’ve caught a lot of overflow from the ski resorts. Everybody has been working really hard, but we’ve had no problems with the staff. By the second week of January we were catching our breath.” She turned back to her desk and flipped through an appointment book. A notation caught her attention.

      “What is it?” Daniel asked.

      “Les Shuemaker.” A frisson tickled her spine—this man was downright spooky in his ability to pinpoint problems. “The second week of January. The colonel and I argued about Les Shuemaker.”

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