Praise for Myrna Mackenzie:

“Mackenzie delivers a gripping tale—one packed with romantic conflict, electrifying sexual tension and unexpected twists.”

—Romantic Times on Morning Beauty, Midnight Beast

“Myrna Mackenzie pens a marvelous romance filled with love and humor, a truly enjoyable read.”

—Romantic Times

“Myrna Mackenzie treats us to a heartwarming, poignant and utterly satisfying romance as these marvelous characters go toe-to-toe in a battle of wills that leads to their own hearts.”

—Romantic Times on The Daddy List

“Readers will enjoy Myrna Mackenzie’s easy writing style, substantial conflict and appealing characterizations.”

—Romantic Times on The Scandalous Return of Jake Walker

Keeping Her Safe
Myrna Mackenzie

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Dear Reader,

For years I’ve been thinking that I’d like to write a book about a bodyguard, so I was delighted when I was asked to write Keeping Her Safe and tell Vincent Fortune’s story. Vincent is the epitome of the protective hero, the type of hero that I love to write. Of course, the fact that he’s big and handsome and tough and has a reluctant soft spot for Natalie McCabe, the heroine, only added to the joy of writing about him.

And Natalie is just the kind of heroine I can’t resist, one who gives the hero a run for his money. Strong and feisty, Natalie is pretty sure she doesn’t want a bodyguard, even though she realizes she might need one. And being a woman who likes to fight her own battles, she just can’t help but end up thwarting Vincent at every turn, causing the sparks to fly and the heat to build, even as the outside danger threatens to end everything.

Writing Natalie and Vincent’s story was an adventure, being able to continue Ryan Fortune’s story made the experience even more exciting, and working with some of my favorite authors…well, I just couldn’t have asked for a more agreeable task.

I hope you find abundant pleasure in reading this and all of the books in THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS: REUNION series!

Best wishes,

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Bonus Features

One

Natalie McCabe stared up at the massive dark-haired man standing in the doorway to her apartment and wondered what she had gotten herself into. The man blocked the light from the hallway. His intense gray eyes and sharp-edged jaw were practically predatory. He looked very much like trouble, and right now she already had enough trouble in her life.

“You’re not Vincent Fortune, are you?” she asked, unable to hide her concern.

“None other,” he answered in a lazy voice. “Is there a problem with that?” He glanced down at her and then beyond her into her apartment.

Yes, there’s a major problem, Natalie wanted to say, even as she bit her tongue. When Daniel Fortune, San Antonio’s assistant district attorney, had told her he was going to assign her a bodyguard, she supposed that she had expected someone big—just not someone whose eyes took in so much. Within two seconds of opening the door, she would swear the man had registered every aspect of her house and every inch of her person. A shiver of awareness ran through her. This was a man who was used to being in control.

If there was one thing Natalie couldn’t deal with, it was having someone else trying to take her control away.

“Of course there’s no problem,” she finally said, trying to calm herself.

The man looked down, and Natalie realized that she had clenched one fist. “I’ve been hired to protect you,” Vincent said more gently.

“Yes, I understand that it’s a necessity. I’m okay with that,” she finally said.

The man looked amused, as if sensing her lie. “Mind if I come in, then?”

Natalie thought about that for two whole seconds. There was no way she was letting Vincent Fortune into her apartment. It wasn’t just that he was big, he was also handsome, with a killer smile and a low, sandy voice that promised carnal pleasure. Men like that were the kind that many women allowed favors. Women in those circumstances gave up more power than they should. Because they were lusting, not thinking.

Natalie was always thinking. Right now she was thinking that she had no business toying with the word carnal.

“Is it really necessary for you to come in?” she asked, desperately hoping the man couldn’t read minds. “Aren’t you just supposed to sit outside my house in a parked car watching for danger? Isn’t that how it works?”

He raised one dark brow, not smiling. When he looked down at her, Natalie felt small and frail, even though she wasn’t either of those things. At five-six, she wasn’t short, and she visited a club regularly and had taken self-defense courses.

“You and I need to establish a working relationship and some basic ground rules before I can decide what the best course of action is, Ms. McCabe,” the man said. “To do that, we need to sit down and talk, and you probably don’t want to talk in a place where anyone can overhear us.”

Okay, he had a point. Natalie took a deep breath, her options fading. Not for the first time she wished her situation were different. When she had been assigned to cover the party the governor had thrown to honor Ryan Fortune, noted philanthropist and head of the Fortune family, for his contributions to charity, it had been an ordinary day. Just as usual, her boss at the San Antonio Express-News had stuck her with the social circuit when she wanted the chance to cover hard news stories.

Then she had witnessed Jason Jamison murdering his wife, and everything had changed. She was no longer just a reporter but also a witness to a crime.

Not long ago, her tires had been slashed, and recently she had begun receiving threatening notes. She needed protection, and Daniel Fortune was convinced that his brother Vincent ran the best security firm available. Damn!

“I don’t mean to be a pain, Mr. Fortune,” Natalie said, still not inviting him in, “but exactly how do I know that you’re who you say you are? Especially given my situation, I can’t just invite a stranger into my house.”

Vincent nodded slightly. His eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that made Natalie’s stomach flutter. Don’t be stupid, she told herself.

“You’ve just become my favorite client, Ms. McCabe,” Vincent Fortune was saying. “Most people let me in without asking any tough questions. I’ll show you my credentials, but I’d also advise that you call my brother just to make sure that I am who I am. That way you’ll have some peace of mind.”

That was such a joke. She hadn’t had peace of mind since this whole Jason Jamison business had started. Moreover, she was currently involved in some sensitive sleuthing for an article she wanted—no, needed—to write, and having someone trailing her would be a decided disadvantage. Besides, this man, with his short dark hair, gray eyes and hard-muscled body, was not the kind to make any woman feel peaceful. Unless one counted the afterglow of a sexual encounter as peaceful….

“I’ll call Daniel,” she said, chasing her thoughts away as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Daniel’s number.

“Hi, Natalie,” Daniel said when she had told him what she wanted. “Yes, that’s definitely my big brother. He’s a bit imposing, but I can assure you that he’s highly effective.”

Natalie looked up, and her eyes met Vincent’s. For a minute, she couldn’t look away, couldn’t swallow. Imposing was a good word for the man. It was a word she didn’t care for much.

“Are you okay with this, Natalie?” Daniel asked. “I don’t mean to scare you, but until Jamison’s case is complete, and with these notes circulating, you need to be protected. Vincent will do that. He’s more dependable than anyone I know, and he’s capable, as well. He’ll get the job done. All right?”

No, she was not all right. For years, she had been treated as a cute but inept little doll by her family. Moreover, Joe Franklin, her good-ol’ boy boss, felt that women should be happy just to write fluff pieces. Now Vincent Fortune would join the ranks of those who wanted to protect little Natalie McCabe from the world. He would smother her with his undeniable presence. But she had no choice. To change things, she had to remain healthy and alive.

“I’m fine with that, Daniel. Thank you.” She hung up.

“All right, come in and let’s get started, Mr. Fortune,” she said, stepping back and letting the man in her doorway inside. “But I’m going to be honest. I’m really uncomfortable having a man following me around.”

“Excuse me,” he said, “but I have to ask. Is it just the prospect of having a bodyguard that bothers you or the fact that I’m a man?” His eyes turned dark and he didn’t surge forward into her house as she would have expected. “Because,” he continued, “you should understand that most people are uncomfortable having a shadow at first. They get used to it. If the discomfort goes deeper, though, I need to know.”

She felt herself growing warm. “I just don’t like feeling helpless. Having someone paid to keep me safe makes me feel hemmed in, frustrated. I have work to do, Mr. Fortune.” It was important work, too. The story she was trying to uncover would not only help establish her as a respected reporter, but it would bring justice to many elderly people who had been wronged. She couldn’t give that up.

Vincent gave her a curt nod. “I respect your work, Ms. McCabe. I hope you understand that while VF Securities is my business and I take pride in my work, this situation goes beyond that. I take the intimidation of innocent individuals very seriously. That’s what I’m seeing here. You’ve been threatened. I’ve seen the notes that have been sent to you. Someone wants to frighten you. He or she wants you out of the picture. I don’t intend to let that happen.”

Suddenly the thing she had been avoiding thinking about came rushing back at her. I’m watching you, Natalie. You’re never alone, Natalie. Don’t let down your guard, Natalie. The notes had frightened her a great deal, it was true. Her hands had trembled just holding the bits of paper those notes had been written on, and she felt sick even remembering those moments. But giving in to that fear, letting someone else take away her choice to be strong and to be the one in charge…it just made the fear worse, in a way. She had struggled all her life for the chance to follow her own path. This was too much like admitting that her family had been right all along, like conceding that she really was weak, parasitically helpless.

The thought threatened to overwhelm her, suffocate her. She gave herself a mental shake and tried to stand taller. “Mr. Fortune, I grew up with parents and three older brothers who felt I was incapable of even walking across the street without assistance. I do understand the need for your expertise and your protection, and I am grateful for all you and Daniel are trying to do for me. But I have to be able to live my life and do my job without interference. I have to be able to have some semblance of normalcy.”

“All right,” he said in his dark, sexy voice as he entered her home and shut the door behind him. “I’ll do all I can to make that possible. I’m here to watch your back, and I’ll do my best to make it easy for you.”

But as he brushed past her, and she caught a whiff of his aftershave, a fragrance that only emphasized his masculinity, she couldn’t imagine it ever being easy to have this man watching her every move. Already she felt as if she were walking around in her underwear. His eyes were everywhere. She could see him assessing every nook and cranny of her living room, noting the locks on the windows, the open curtains that let in the sunshine.

She could almost hear her parents clucking every time she took a risk. She could remember her three brothers’ frowns if a boy so much as glanced below her neck. This kind of scrutiny was not new to her. The old, familiar sense of beating her head against the wall crept right back in, only this time she couldn’t pretend the scrutiny was unjustified, that she could handle everything on her own. Like it or not, someone really was threatening her.

“I appreciate your candor and your promises, but my life is going to change, isn’t it?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” he said, turning to face her. “It already has. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time, and because of that everything will be different from here on out.”

“Some people would say I was in the right place at the right time. Jason Jamison is behind bars.”

He gave a slight nod. “Yes.”

But Natalie had to admit that his first comment had been right, in a way. Because she was a valued witness whose safety was in question, she was going to be spending a lot of time with a man she wouldn’t ordinarily have ever met, one she would never have chosen to meet.

Natalie sighed and nodded. “All right, keep me safe, Mr. Fortune.”

“It will be my primary goal.”

And hers would be to keep her life as normal as possible, to make sure that Vincent Fortune remained a shadow, one she could shed once this mess with Jason Jamison was over.

Vincent sat down at Natalie McCabe’s fussy little kitchen table and did his best to look a little less formidable. In his line of work, having a little brawn was usually good, but it was never a good idea to make a client uneasy.

Natalie McCabe, with her soft, husky voice that couldn’t quite hide her nervousness no matter how hard she tried, was clearly uncomfortable where he was concerned.

“All right, Ms. McCabe, we’ll need to go over all that’s happened to you since you attended that party, and I’ll need to have an idea what your daily schedule is.”

“I can tell you everything that’s happened,” she said.

“Great. And the schedule?”

She looked to the side. “I’m a reporter, Mr. Fortune.”

“Vincent. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together and, really, I’m just not a ‘Mr. Fortune’ kind of guy.”

She blinked those light green eyes of hers. Eyes he would have been attracted to if she were not a client. But she was.

“Vincent, then,” she said, her tone reluctant. “I’m a reporter, Vincent. I interview people. If I tell you my schedule, you’ll follow me around, won’t you?”

He smiled. “That’s generally the idea of a bodyguard, yes.”

“Exactly. That’s going to be a problem.”

“In what way?”

Natalie looked at him dead-on. “Vincent, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you are a…well, you’re a rather big man.”

He raised one brow.

She raised one right back.

“It comes up now and then,” he admitted, trying not to grin.

“Yes, well…my contacts might be intimidated by a man with linebacker shoulders. How am I supposed to get people to open up and tell me their secrets if they’re looking over their shoulders wondering what you’re doing?” She threw her hands out in apparent exasperation, and then she frowned. “I’m sorry, I know you have to look forbidding to do your job. I really didn’t mean to insult you.” She glanced up and he couldn’t believe it, but she really did look as if she thought she might have hurt his feelings.

“Don’t worry about it. Any of it. I promise you, Natalie, that I can stay out of your way when it’s necessary. There are times, though, that I’ll need to be a presence. If someone is threatening you, that someone needs to know that you’re not to be messed with. So yes, intimidation helps in those instances.”

Although he understood her concerns, his size had always been a bit of a problem, and not just for others. Vincent was all too aware of the fact that he was physically powerful and that his power needed to be tempered. People got hurt when a big man didn’t control his emotions. He knew that from personal experience, but he really didn’t want to think about that.

If he could help it, he wouldn’t let Natalie experience anything of that nature.

“I’ll keep my distance when I can,” he repeated.

She smiled warmly, and something moved deep inside him. Forget it, he told himself. She’s not for you. Not that any woman was. He dated women. He was, after all, a normal, healthy male. He just didn’t have relationships, not the kind where a man lost it over the color of a woman’s eyes, anyway. As far as he was concerned, the only things he needed to notice about Natalie were those related to this case.

“Now, tell me about the party,” he prompted.

She nodded, her lips suddenly tight. He could almost see her pulling herself together, straightening her spine, breathing more deeply, tightening every muscle as she prepared to relive what had to have been a damned terrifying experience.

“Take all the time you need,” he said gently, prepared to wait all day if necessary.

She lifted her chin high. “I don’t need time, Vincent. I remember that day perfectly. I had been asked to cover the party because it was considered an important social event.” Natalie frowned slightly.

“You didn’t consider it important?” Vincent asked.

She looked up, directly into his eyes. He could see that she would be an effective reporter. One look into those expressive eyes and a subject might give up every secret he possessed. Good thing he wasn’t a subject.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t important. It’s always an event when the Fortune family gets together, but this time it was the governor himself who was honoring Ryan Fortune for his charitable works. It was a very notable gathering.”

Vincent sensed that there was a huge but about to follow, but Natalie surprised him by stopping at that.

“And where did Jamison fit in?”

She frowned. “I thought that Daniel told you all of this.”

“He did. He’s not the one I’m guarding. I need to see things through your eyes.”

Natalie firmed her lips slightly, obviously reluctant, but then she nodded, her dark, shoulder-length hair swishing with her movement. “All right. I’d been assigned to cover the social scene but I was also planning my own story on Ryan’s effect on Fortune, TX, Ltd. in his role as an advisor. I wanted to interview Jamison, and I went upstairs looking for him, but when I got there I heard arguing. I didn’t know what it was, but I…well, I was curious. A reporter’s nose for news, I suppose.”

She looked to the side suddenly, swallowing hard. For a minute, Vincent worried about her.

“The words were ugly,” she said, “but when I got to the door, the arguing had stopped. At first I thought I’d caught a couple embracing. The man had his back to me and his arms seemed to be around the woman, tipping her back in that way you see in movies. I’m not sure exactly what I thought then. Maybe that they were one of those couples that likes to argue and then make up, I guess. At any rate, it was clear that this wasn’t a scene I wanted to witness, and so I turned away and even moved partly down the hall. Then I heard a strange choking sound, and things clicked—the fact that the embrace might not have been all that it seemed. I ran back and I heard a thud. Jamison was standing over the woman. ‘Good riddance. You were more trouble than you were worth,’ he said.”

Natalie turned back toward Vincent. “I’ve thought about that day over and over,” she whispered. “If I had only known what was going on—”

“Natalie, you know it wasn’t your fault.”

She shook her head and sat up even straighter. “I know.” But she didn’t sound completely convinced. Vincent couldn’t imagine what she’d gone through since that day. “Anyway,” she said, her voice regaining strength, “I stood there, frozen, until he looked up to me. Everything seemed to be so unreal. Then, he actually smiled. ‘Take a good look, honey. Because you’ll be next,’ he said. I knew for sure that she was dead, then. I didn’t even think. I just ran and I kept running until I realized that he would get away with murder if I didn’t come back. That was it. I turned around and drove back to the party. They arrested him, and he’s awaiting trial now.”

“The letters?”

“I saved copies if you need to look at them again.”

He didn’t ask why she had saved copies. He would have done the same. And she was a reporter, a person who lived by facts and evidence. But he shook his head. “The experts have gone over them thoroughly. There’s no way of telling who sent them or even if the person who mailed them was working alone.”

“I know. It seems hard to believe that a man accused of murder and under constant guard would be able to sneak messages out.”

“He’s been allowed visitors. Maybe he didn’t write the messages.”

“Yes. It could be someone on the outside,” she said. “An accomplice of his.” Vincent thought he saw her tremble, but she didn’t allow her voice to break. She didn’t show any other sign of being nervous.

He sat forward suddenly and leaned nearer, moving into her space, her soft floral scent filling his senses. “I don’t mean to be immodest, Natalie, but I make a point of being good at what I do. No one—absolutely no one—is going to get to you without going straight through me.”

Finally she smiled, her pretty pink lips curving upward in a way that made his breath hitch in his chest. “You’re a little cocky, Vincent.”

“It goes with the territory. A bodyguard has to be willing to go through walls and step on a few toes to make sure his client is safe.”

She glanced down at her toes.

“Not yours,” he said, grinning slightly.

“Don’t be so sure,” she said. “My parents and my brothers thought I was a hellion. They’ve spent years trying to get me to behave, and even though they’re normally sane, calm people, they’ve been known to go to extremes in their quest to keep up with me.”

“Is that a warning, Natalie?”

“It’s a sad truth, Vincent. I have been told that I’m unmanageable. Consider yourself warned. Now, do you have everything that you need to know?”

“I know enough to get started.”

“Good.” She rose to her feet. “Because I have an appointment.”

He nodded and stood. “All right, let’s go.”

Those green eyes suddenly flashed dark. “You told me that you would be discreet, but where I’m going…well, you just can’t.”

He gave her a slow, lazy smile. “Watch me, Natalie. Your welfare is on my head now. Where you go, I follow.”

“I’m not going anywhere important. Nowhere anyone else would be interested. Just to a neighbor’s house.”

“Well, then, let’s go meet the neighbors,” he drawled.

She blinked. “What am I going to tell them about you? How am I going to explain you away?”

Vincent placed both palms on the table and leaned closer. “You’re the reporter. You know how to relate a story. Tell them the facts…or make something up. Tell them I’m your lover, for all I care. But understand this, Natalie. Your safety is my concern, and I am not letting you out of my sight.”

She blinked and frowned.

“It’s for your own good,” he promised.

She frowned harder. “I know. I hate that. I hate that it’s for my own good. It would be so much easier to argue about it if it weren’t. All right, come on, lover boy.”

With that, Natalie turned and headed for the door. Vincent had watched any number of women’s backs over the years. Most of the women had been infatuated with the thought of having a man following them around, their own personal paid protector. But Natalie McCabe was royally pissed off. In spite of admitting to the necessity of having him here, she didn’t want her neighbors to meet him.

What was that about?

Already his new client was a total pain in the ass who was going to make his job hell. Too bad she had a sweet, slender body and pretty eyes that were hard to ignore.

She was merely a client, and that was all she could be. He couldn’t wait for this assignment to be over.

Two

Natalie had been living in this apartment complex for several years. She was one of the youngest people in the building. Most of the inhabitants were well into their senior years. Yet, she had never felt self-conscious or out of place until she walked down the hall with Vincent two paces behind her.

The man was just so hard to ignore. His aftershave drifted to her, and she could almost feel his warmth at her back. She was so incredibly aware of his presence that her own breathing kicked up a bit.

Damn the man. Why couldn’t he be a bit less noticeable? But she knew it was her own fault. For some reason, she was having trouble blocking Vincent Fortune from her mind. No doubt she’d simply been rattled by those threatening notes and the fact that she had to have a bodyguard at all. Well, that was about to stop. She had important work to do, Natalie told herself as she rapped on an apartment door near the back of the first floor.

Long seconds passed. Natalie turned to look at Vincent.

“Mrs. Morgensen uses a walker. It takes a while. You can go if you like.”

He grinned. “Nice try, Natalie, but I’ve got nothing but time. I’m all yours.”

Natalie suddenly felt warm. Surely that wasn’t a blush creeping up her cheeks. She never blushed.

Gritting her teeth, she forced a big smile and turned to him. “That’s very generous, Vincent, but I’m not sure I’m equipped to handle all of you.”

To her delight, Vincent looked as if he was going to choke, although she wasn’t quite sure whether it was with shock or laughter. And since the door opened at that moment, she couldn’t ask.

“Natalie? I’m so glad you could come.” Mrs. Morgensen’s voice quavered a bit, but her eyes were bright and shiny. She glanced past Natalie. “Oh, you brought your young man.”

“No, I— He’s not my—” Natalie began to say, but she needn’t have bothered.

“Vincent Fortune. I’m delighted to meet you, Mrs. Morgensen,” Vincent said, stepping forward and touching the elderly woman’s hand.

The lady smiled and looked at Natalie. “Good choice, Natalie. He’s a looker.”

Natalie blinked. She refused to look at Vincent, and she didn’t answer. After all, what could she say? If she told Mrs. Morgensen that Vincent was her bodyguard, she would have some explaining to do. She might frighten the woman, and that just wasn’t acceptable. Moreover, Mrs. Morgensen might no longer feel comfortable telling her story to Natalie, and without her story and those of her other neighbors, Natalie had no hope of digging deeper and getting the information she needed to reveal the misdeeds of Starson Investments.

“He’s very pretty,” Natalie agreed, which was a total lie. Vincent was masculine, sexy, handsome in a decidedly rugged way. Pretty was a word that no one would ever apply to the man. “Adorable, actually.”

She couldn’t resist turning to Vincent, who looked as if he wanted to squirm. Natalie smiled and allowed Mrs. Morgensen to usher them inside.

“I think we’ve embarrassed him,” Natalie confided to her neighbor in a stage whisper.

“Men,” Mrs. Morgensen agreed with a wink and a shake of her head. “They just don’t know how to take a compliment.”

Natalie’s heart warmed at the older woman’s smile. She looked around her at the modest surroundings. There was a nearly threadbare couch, a small chair and table, and one tiny bookcase, as well as numerous inexpensive knickknacks.

“It’s almost all I’ve got left,” Mrs. Morgensen whispered. “I’ve been so stupid.” And now the lady’s eyes didn’t twinkle anymore.

Natalie’s heart almost broke. She cast one frantic look at Vincent and he nodded. “I’ll just sit outside and leave you two alone,” he said as if he’d read her mind.

Mrs. Morgensen pulled her shoulders back and gave him a stern look. “I may not have much, but I can still entertain a guest or two and I do not leave my guests sitting in the hallway. You’ll sit in the kitchen, have a cup of coffee and read the newspaper. I still splurge on the newspaper,” she said stubbornly as if expecting Vincent to criticize her for spending too much money. “Does he know?” she asked Natalie.

“Nothing,” Natalie told her truthfully. “I apologize for bringing someone along without asking.”

“I insisted on coming,” Vincent volunteered.

Mrs. Morgensen smiled again. “I don’t blame you. She’s a love. Don’t want to be apart from her, do you?”

“Not a minute.”

Natalie sent him a warning glance. Vincent ignored her.

“But thank you for not volunteering my circumstances,” the lady said to Natalie. “I know the story has to come out, but until you catch them, I’d prefer people not know all the embarrassing details,” she told Natalie as if Vincent weren’t there.

Vincent studied a bookcase as if it held the secrets of the universe rather than a few dozen copies of old condensed novels. Natalie wondered how many times in the past Vincent had had to pretend he was a piece of the furniture. In his line of work, it must have happened often.

“This is just between you and me for now,” Natalie agreed.

Mrs. Morgensen gave her a grateful look. “But we should tell him something, so that he doesn’t think I’m a criminal with all this secrecy and whispering.”

“Anyone with an ounce of sense can see that you’re not,” Vincent told her. “Don’t worry about it. Mind if I show myself to the kitchen?”

“Through the hall,” Mrs. Morgensen told him. “The coffee’s on the counter. And thank you. For the record, I’ve fallen on hard times.”

“Happens to everyone.”

It didn’t, Natalie thought, but she was grateful that Vincent was doing so much to make her neighbor feel comfortable. “We won’t be long,” she promised him.

“I follow your schedule, not the other way around,” he said as he left the room. Natalie couldn’t help noting that he looked just as good from the back as he did from the front and immediately berated herself for even thinking such a thing. What was wrong with her, anyway?

As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Morgensen grasped both of her hands. “Ooh, latch on to that one, love. A man who wants to accommodate your schedule instead of his own is a rarity indeed. And what a great butt, don’t you think?”

Instantly heat and confusion climbed through Natalie. “I—” She held her hands out helplessly.

“Oh, I’ve embarrassed you, haven’t I? I do that now that I’m old, more often all the time. And here you just came to get some information.” Mrs. Morgensen sounded so sad that Natalie wished she had been able to set aside her reservations about Vincent and enter into the spirit of things.

“No, you haven’t done a thing wrong. It’s just that Vincent and I don’t know each other very well yet.”

“Oh, I understand. And you can’t be too careful with strangers. I’ve learned that the hard way. Now, why don’t you sit down and I’ll tell you my story. I understand you’ve already talked to Mr. Jackson in 2B and Mr. Darby in 1F.”

“Yes, just the other day. They said that you lost more than they did.”

That heartbroken look returned to the old lady’s eyes. “Yes, through my own stupidity. I won’t have anything to leave to my grandchildren now.”

“I’m so sorry. Tell me what exactly happened.”

“I don’t really know. I only know that I decided to invest a little of my money. Not much, just a little. So I contacted a broker, a man from Starson Investments. You’ve heard his name before,” she said as Natalie started to nod.

She had, from some of her other neighbors. “I don’t really know anything about him,” Natalie confessed, “except that he is, indeed, a broker.”

“I didn’t even talk to him all that long,” Mrs. Morgensen said, “and I made sure he knew that I didn’t want to invest much money. Then one day I got a bill for thousands of dollars. I really don’t understand what happened. I just know that my money’s gone,” she finished sadly, a lost look in her eyes. “I wanted to buy my grandson a bicycle for Christmas,” she said. “Now I can’t do that.”

Natalie felt the tears filling her throat. She patted Mrs. Morgensen’s hand. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll find out what happened. Whatever it is, it wasn’t right. I’ll do my best to make sure people know.”

For a second, hope flared in the old woman’s eyes. “I don’t suppose you can get my money back, but…”

Natalie wanted to scream, because no, she didn’t have the wherewithal to turn back time and save this gentle woman from what had happened to her. “Do you have the paperwork?”

“Just the canceled check. I sent the bill back with the check.”

“All right,” Natalie said. “We’ll at least start there.” Which was more or less like starting with nothing at all. That meant she had to go to Plan B. As soon as she thought the words, she remembered the man in the kitchen.

Vincent was not going to like Plan B, because it meant that she was going to have to ditch him. Somehow.

Vincent waited until they were back in Natalie’s car before he spoke.

“For a reporter, you have a soft side.”

She gave him the look, the one that said, “Get real.” He couldn’t keep from smiling. “I’ll bet you want to be hard-edged and no-nonsense, the reporter who’ll stop at nothing to get a story. If that’s the case, you shouldn’t have asked Mrs. Morgensen for her recipe for oatmeal raisin cookies.”

Natalie looked away. “They’re good cookies. Besides, she’s so proud of them. She makes them for her family.”

“And you wanted to give her back a little of her dignity because someone has taken it away.”

“Is that so wrong?”

“No. It’s very right. It’s just…surprising. I thought you were all about the story.”

“I am.”

He shrugged. He didn’t doubt that she wanted to be a good reporter and that she would do a great deal to make sure that happened, but she wouldn’t hurt an old lady’s feelings. She wasn’t the type to go for the jugular. Not that it should make any difference to him. It didn’t. No matter how enticing she looked with those long lashes and those lush curves, he wasn’t going to allow himself to be interested. But it was nice to know that he was at least guarding a real person. He’d guarded plenty of the plastic types. No matter what, he did his best, but he would enjoy protecting this woman.

Just don’t let yourself enjoy it too much, he told himself. He wouldn’t. He had rules and they were rock solid.

As long as he remembered that, there should be no problems. His only job was to keep Natalie safe, and he intended to do that, and that alone. Anyone who got to her would have to take him down first—and that just wasn’t going to happen.

“I don’t belong here.” Jason Jamison said the words out loud. He must have said them at least fifty times today already, but he still liked hearing the sound of them. The words were true, anyway. He might have been calling himself Jason Wilkes lately, because it was convenient to do so, but in truth he was a Jamison, and the Jamisons came from fine stock. What’s more, his grandfather had been Kingston Fortune’s lost half brother, which meant Jason was also related to the Fortunes.

“And jail’s not for the likes of the Jamisons and Fortunes.” Besides, Melissa, the woman he had killed had had it coming to her, anyway, hadn’t she? She’d been willing to pretend she was his wife, but in the end she’d gotten greedy and had tried to mess in things that hadn’t concerned her. He’d thought she loved him; he’d spent tons of money on her and then she’d tried to work her own con and blackmail him in the bargain.

She’d laughed at him, and nobody laughed at Jason Jamison. No one messed with him. Soon enough, everyone would know that. Especially that little bitch that had blown the whistle on him. If it weren’t for her, he would still be living the good life.

Jason let out a long string of expletives.

“Yeah, McCabe and the high-and-mighty Ryan Fortune, they’re the ones who put me in here.”

And they would be the ones who had to pay.

Jason chuckled. A guard stopped by his cell.

“Something especially funny, Jamison? You remembering what it used to be like before you turned killer and ended up behind bars?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Ah, but we know it is, don’t we?” the guard asked.

Yeah, they did. Even prison guards had their uses. This one would be more useful still in the near future.

“You like your temporary home here? You better be grateful for the treatment you get. Because this ain’t nothin’ like it’s going to be. Once you stand trial and end up in maximum security, you might not meet guards as friendly as me.”

“And you might not meet prisoners who can do as much for you as I can.”

The guard shrugged. “You got a point. I definitely prefer guarding a man who at least has some money and a few rich connections. Makes this job more bearable.” The man raked his nose with his sleeve. Jason wanted to sneer, but instead he smiled.

“I can make the job more bearable if you like.”

The guard looked to the side, as if to see if anyone was listening. “What do you mean?”

So Jason told him. Yes, he definitely had a plan, but not everyone was going to like it.

The very thought made Jason smile. He was going to relish getting even.

But first he was going to relish getting free.

Three

“Lock every door, lock every window and stay away from them. Don’t let yourself be silhouetted in the light,” Vincent ordered Natalie as he prepared to leave her at her door.

She nodded. “And where will you be while I’m making myself invisible?” Even though she hadn’t meant to, Natalie asked the question out loud. The truth was she was dreadfully afraid that if she didn’t know exactly where Vincent was, she would be peeking out the window trying to spot him just like a star-struck teenage girl.

And then there was the other concern. She needed to get out of the house, and she needed to make sure that Vincent couldn’t follow her.

“I’ll be nearby,” he assured her.

“Don’t you have a family? A wife? Kids?”

“I don’t do the wife-and-kids stuff. It’s not for me.” His voice was hoarse. There was clearly a story behind that comment, one he obviously didn’t want to share.

“Okay, but don’t you ever go to bed?” She tried not to imagine him in a bed. She really did her best not to think about what he might wear or not wear…and what kind of woman he might sleep with.

“Sure, I sleep,” he assured her. “But I’ll never leave you unprotected. When I’m off-duty, I’ll put my best man on your case. Derek Seefer. If anything should happen, Derek knows what to do and he knows how to reach me.”

“Nothing will happen,” she said too quickly.

Vincent cocked his head, but he simply nodded. “Derek and I will see to it. Sleep well, Natalie.”

She looked up at him then, into those concerned dark gray eyes, and she wished she didn’t have to deceive him. She wished she could tell him what she had planned, but of course there was no way she could ever do that. If she did, he would follow her. Vincent certainly wasn’t the kind of man who would stay or go just because a woman told him to.

No, she would have to be sneaky. Too much was at stake here.

“I’ll be careful, Vincent,” she promised, even though she realized he couldn’t understand what she was talking about. “I promise. And thank you. I will sleep well.” Just as soon as she was back from her mission, she would sleep very well.

Vincent had encountered a lot of guilty looks in his days. He wondered if Natalie knew that she played with her hair when she was being evasive. Those pretty green eyes couldn’t quite focus on him, even though in all other ways she looked perfectly calm and in control.

“If I were a betting man,” he murmured, “I’d say that Natalie isn’t going to lock all her doors and sit tight. She’s going to run.”

He wondered why. She really appeared to be in danger, and it was clear from her reaction to the memory of those notes that she didn’t take the threats lightly. Yet she chafed at having a keeper. Not that he blamed her. Even if a bodyguard was for her own safety, the lack of privacy, the sense of being watched and treated like a child was bound to rankle with a woman who had been on her own for as long as Natalie had. She was twenty-nine, an independent woman with a career, and now she had a keeper.

No, he’d just bet he wasn’t on Natalie’s list of favorite people right now. He wondered who was. What man topped her list of those she wanted to spend time with?

“Whoa, don’t go there, buddy. None of your concern. This lady is just a client. That puts her off-limits for everything.”

Right now the lady was slipping out some back entrance if the slight screech of wood against wood was any indication. Opening a window?

“Maybe, and maybe it’s someone else opening the window to climb inside, you dolt,” he told himself, sprinting around the corner.

He was just in time to see a pair of shapely legs emerging from the window. He frowned. She was wearing beige sandals that displayed pretty pink toes. When she started to slide out of the window, her narrow skirt caught on the frame and stuck, sliding up to reveal a pair of thighs that could make a man beg to touch.

Vincent breathed in deeply, ordering himself to ignore the lady’s thighs and just concentrate on the task at hand.

“Need a hand?” he asked, stepping forward and reaching up for her.

Her head came up and her eyes met his. To her credit, she didn’t shriek, something she certainly had a right to do. Instead, she stared down at his hands and at her own exposed flesh. If he lowered his hands, he could cup his palms around those rounded thighs.

Natalie gave a frustrated sigh. “Yes, thank you,” she said primly. “I could use a hand.”

“And a lift? You appear to be going out.”

“Yes. I have work to do.”

“All right, let’s go.” He reached up and she squirmed, but it was clear that if he let her continue her downward slide, he’d be seeing a lot more than just her thighs. Right now Vincent didn’t think he could handle viewing Natalie’s nearly naked and undoubtedly lovely little ass. A man only had so much self-control and while he had more than most men, while he had spent a lifetime teaching himself to ignore the dictates of his mind and his emotions, the urge to slide his palms across Natalie’s bare skin would still be there. He couldn’t have indiscreet thoughts about his client interfering with his job.

Carefully, Vincent placed his hands on Natalie’s waist and lifted her from the window. “You were going to walk?”

She shrugged. “It seemed best. If I took my car—”

“I’d see you and follow. I’ll drive you.”

Suddenly, she placed her hand on his sleeve and heat filled him. “Vincent, you more than anyone should understand what undercover work is like.”

He nodded. “Go on.”

“I have a job. I’m trying to help people like Mrs. Morgensen. In order to do that, I need information. I have things I need to do, but I need to be able to fit in without causing a stir of any sort.”

“You want me to be scarce,” he finished for her.

“If that’s possible.” For a minute, he thought she was studying his body, as if she were deciding if he might fit behind a potted plant. “You’re a very large man, Vincent,” she pointed out again.

He tried to blank out his thoughts, to remember that she was just being practical, not speaking in sexual innuendos.

“I know how to become a part of the furniture, Natalie. Believe me. It’s my job.”

She nodded. “All right, then.”

She turned to go. He turned to follow her. Suddenly she whirled and he was closer than he had intended. “One more thing,” she said. Her eyes looked dark and worried.

“Tell me.”

“I might make mistakes, but I won’t be in any danger. Even if I do err and things look as if they’re falling apart, don’t help me. I have to learn.”

“Natalie?”

“What?”

“You’ve been a reporter for a while, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but I’ve never had to play a part. When you’re interviewing Beep-Beep the Clown and the owners of The Party Hat Store, subterfuge isn’t really necessary.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never played a part? You’ve never gone undercover?”

“That’s right.”

“The people you’re mingling with tonight, tell me what type we’re talking about. Dangerous?”

“Not really. Accountants, that type.”

He relaxed. “All right. I won’t worry, then. Will you be pretending to be an accountant?”

She hugged her arms. “Natalie?” he prodded.

“I’ll be pretending to be a woman.”

He chuckled.

“A woman in search of a man,” she said, raising her chin. “Maybe more than one man.”

“And you want me to take you to meet your dates?”

“You don’t have to.”

But if he didn’t, she’d try to go on her own again. Well, what difference did it make? She wasn’t his to order around. He just had to guard her.

“Vincent, if anyone thinks you’re with me, they probably won’t come near.”

He wasn’t so sure of that. She had an earnest look on her face that made a man want to find out what put that expression there. And she had those long, delicious legs that could make a man fight for the chance to have them wrapped around him.

Vincent almost swore. “I’ll let you go in first, but I won’t be far behind you,” he finally conceded.

“It’s the best I could hope for, I guess,” she agreed. “All right, let’s go to The Ladder.”

“The Ladder?”

“It’s—”

“I know what it is. It’s a major pickup place.”

“You’ve been there? Did you get lucky?”

He glared down at her and she gave him an impish grin.

“I’m sure you did. Women probably swarm all over you when you walk into a bar.”

But she had asked him to make himself scarce. Now why did that rankle so much?

Natalie had been to The Ladder before, but only as an observer, as a researcher. Those had only been preliminary runs to make sure this was the place where she would be most likely to meet up with employees of Starson Investments and to locate Brad Herron, Mrs. Morgensen’s broker. Now she was going to have to wade in and actually become a part of things. The very thought made her quake inside. The fact that Vincent had come inside, seated himself at a small table in the shadows and was watching her every move only heightened her nervousness. She was going to have to attempt to come on to a man while Vincent watched. She had a feeling that Vincent was an expert at enticing women. The fact that she had little experience at luring men was bound to show.

Why should it bother her that Vincent should think her inexperienced and naive? “It shouldn’t,” she murmured.

“What shouldn’t, sweetheart? Brad Herron,” the man sitting at the next table said by way of introduction, holding out his hand. Natalie looked up at the man she had observed here before, one she had deliberately seated herself near tonight. He was in his early forties, divorced, handsome and very aware of how handsome he was.

She took his hand, then fought a spate of nerves when he held on to her longer than was really necessary. She had to be smart here. Tonight was just to get the lay of the land.

Beating back the urge to yank away, she disentangled herself from his grip as casually as possible. The man was a player, she reminded herself. She’d known that when she came here. In fact, knowing that gave her a decided advantage in this game. Natalie took a deep breath. “What I meant was that age shouldn’t matter when choosing new friends,” she carefully replied to the man almost fifteen years her senior. Somehow, she even managed a small smile.

“Oh yeah, I couldn’t agree more. You have exceptionally beautiful eyes, honey, do you know that?” he asked. Except Natalie couldn’t help noticing that it wasn’t her eyes he was looking at but her breasts. She felt slightly sick. Even worse, she had an awful urge to get up and go sit next to Vincent. She wondered what he was thinking of this whole scenario. Because even though he couldn’t possibly hear what was being said, the fact that Brad was practically salivating on her had to be obvious. And if she was going to make this subterfuge work, she had to pretend that she didn’t mind Brad’s attitude.

“Why, thank you, Brad. I’m Natalie,” she said, holding on to her fake smile. “Do you come here often?” Not thrilling conversation, but she needed some way to get him to lead into his Starson connections.

“Two or three times a week,” Brad said. “A lot of the people I work with hang out here. But you’re not a regular. I’ve never seen you here before.”

That was because the few times she had ventured here in the past week or two, she had been wearing a wig, enveloping clothes and sunglasses. More importantly, Brad had been busy hitting on other women. His modus operandi seemed to be stake out the nearest free female, which was why she had seated herself within range of his radar. Her ploy appeared to be working.

Except she looked up right then and couldn’t avoid seeing Vincent, who was watching her closely. He was frowning, his dark eyes narrowed. For some reason, her heartbeat kicked up in a way it hadn’t when Brad had given her the once-over. She hastily looked away.

“No, I don’t get out that much,” Natalie said.

“Well, we’ll have to change that,” Brad said, sliding closer. He smelled heavily of cologne. Natalie fought the urge to inch away…or to slam her fist into his nose.

“Are you here with friends?” she asked.

Brad laughed and winked at her. “If you mean, am I with a woman, not tonight. If you want me to be alone, then I’m alone. Just you and me, babe.”

Okay, it was difficult to fight her gag reflex after a line like that. Brad’s shoulder was rubbing up against hers now. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Vincent rising. Was her panic that evident? Clearly it was time to effect a change, both in her demeanor and in Brad’s attitude.

“Oh, I’m not in the mood for alone tonight,” she simpered. “Not yet. I came here looking for the thrill of a crowd, and if you’re a regular here, then you must know at least some of the people here.” Besides, she needed to locate other people at Starson who might talk to her.

“Sure do know some people, sweetheart. You could say that I’m a man with connections,” Brad boasted. “I’m a broker at Starson Investments, a damn fine one, and being charming and making lots of friends is part of the game. Not many I don’t know here tonight. Come on, I’ll introduce you around, show everybody what a sweet, pretty thing I’ve found.”

Grasping her hand, Brad pulled her to her feet and made his way through the crowd, his grip clamping down tight.

If things went suddenly south and she had to change her mind, breaking that grip was going to take some serious work. She wondered what Vincent would think if she suddenly resorted to kicking her new buddy in the groin. For some reason, she had an urge to do just that, to show Vincent that she really wasn’t helpless. It was all Natalie could do not to look Vincent’s way.

She was sure his eyes were following her, but then, that was what he was paid to do, wasn’t it? There was nothing more to it than that. Which was good, she reminded herself.

Try to forget about Vincent and concentrate on Brad and the task at hand, she ordered herself. Just find out whatever you can about who might know what at Starson. Natalie studied the other people to whom Brad was introducing her.

“This is Sheila. She’s the receptionist.”

Natalie smiled and said hello. Judging by the frigid look Sheila gave her, the woman had either slept with Brad at one time or wanted to. Not a woman who looked as if she would talk to another woman she viewed as competition. She filed that information away for later and turned to the next group. Alicia Summersby, an administrative assistant too scared to do more than squeak; Lon Warren, who worked in the mail room and might very well be a misogynist judging from the disgusted look he gave Natalie; Neil Gerard, an account manager.

An account manager? Natalie smiled at Neil. He mumbled a shy hello, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said.

He shrugged. “Me, too. Um, have you known Brad long?” He shifted again, and she knew what he was getting at. Brad probably didn’t date anyone for very long. He was in it for the skin and when that palled, he moved on to the next conquest.

“Actually, we just met.”

A look of interest lit Neil’s face. He seemed pleased, even though he didn’t say anything. He struck her as the shy, polite guy that every woman should want but seldom did.

Brad chuckled. “Natalie and I have just met, but I intend to get to know her much better, Neil, my man. Isn’t she hot?”

Neil fidgeted again, and Natalie felt sorry for him, but not so sorry that she wouldn’t come back and talk to him later.

“I don’t know that much about investments,” she said, even though she’d already done plenty of research on the Internet. “What exactly do account managers do?”

Neil opened his mouth to speak, but Brad pulled her away. “Oh no, none of that work talk. This one’s mine, and we’ve got other ground to cover, Gerard.”

Natalie felt the heat of anger rising within her. She wondered how much of this conversation Vincent had heard. Brad was drinking, and he was getting louder by the minute. “Come on, babe,” he told her. “You’ve met everyone. Now let’s go somewhere and…talk.”

Four

Vincent felt like grinding his teeth. The good-looking predator had Natalie in his sights, and he wasn’t about to let her get away.

“I don’t even have to hear what they’re saying to see that,” Vincent mumbled. Because the man was practically draping his body around Natalie. She didn’t look especially comfortable, either. Especially when the guy led her to a table in the corner of the room.

For a second, Vincent thought he saw Natalie glance his way, but she turned around just as quickly. Not that it mattered. As a man, he knew all too well what this guy had in mind, and it just wasn’t going to happen. At least not on his watch, Vincent thought, rising and heading back toward that dark corner. Within seconds, he was within hearing range.

“Here,” the man was saying. “Right here.” He sat down heavily on a stool pulled up to a tall table and dragged another stool close to his. “I’m not really into group togetherness. You’re much too tasty to share.” He smiled at Natalie with that pretty-boy face, his voice slightly slurred. He was urging Natalie toward the stool, which would put her practically right on his lap.

Fiery anger rolled through Vincent. He hated men who tried to use a physical advantage to coerce a woman. He’d had far too much experience of that kind of thing, and it still hit him right in the gut.

Fueled by that thought, Vincent took the few steps necessary to reach the small, intimate table. Pretending to be looking elsewhere, he blundered into the stool the guy was trying to muscle Natalie into, bumping it aside.

“Hey buddy, watch it!” The guy’s voice was that of an on-the-edge drunk. Vincent knew that routine all too well. He’d lived it far too often when he had been growing up, and it wasn’t the indignant lush that concerned him. Instead he turned his attention to Natalie, who had to have been surprised by this turn of events as he had approached the table from behind. Her pretty eyes were big and green and startled. He remembered telling her that he would make himself scarce. Damn.

“Excuse me, must have been my mistake,” he said to the jerk attempting to seduce Natalie. “I apologize if I created any problems for you,” Vincent added, turning to Natalie. He motioned to the stool that he had somehow knocked two feet away from where the lech had placed it. “Please, be seated,” Vincent said, nodding to Natalie.

“Yeah, sit here, babe,” the drunkard said and he started to move the stool again.

Quickly Natalie sat, the stool still a good twelve inches from where the guy had first placed it. Vincent wanted to wink at Natalie but refrained.

“Thank you,” she said to him softly, “but it really wasn’t necessary.”

Maybe not to her, but to him? Guys like this one brought out his worst side. But he only shrugged and smiled at her before he started to walk away. For half a second, he thought she smiled back, and warmth spiraled through his body.

Idiot, he told himself. This woman was a job. That was all she was to him. And as far as she was concerned, he was a necessary nuisance, one she was eager to shed. He’d better do his best to remember that.

“At last, we got rid of him. Now it’s just us,” Brad said, scooting closer to Natalie. Somehow she held back a sigh and wondered if she was going to get anything at all out of this encounter other than a headache. Immediately, a vision of Vincent glaring at Brad and apologizing to her, his eyes dark and fierce, slipped into her thoughts. Her heartbeat skittered, and she cursed herself. She was here to get information, not start acting ridiculous about a man, especially a man she had no business even thinking about.

Reluctantly, she turned to Brad. “Tell me about your work,” she coaxed.

“Work?” he asked, smiling slyly. He slid his hand toward her knee.

She moved slightly, and he missed. He nearly toppled from his stool. “Sorry,” she said, not sorry at all.

“No problem. Let’s not even mention work, though,” Brad said. “Like I told Gerard, this night isn’t for work.” He attempted to touch her knee again.

She evaded him. Again.

Natalie wanted to scream. Was this night going to be a total bust? “Oh, but I’m fascinated by the word broker. It’s such a powerful term, so masculine.” She leaned forward on her elbows so that her knees were inaccessible. Of course, her breasts were more exposed, but she had fists and she knew how to use them. Not that she wanted to use them. Sooner or later, she wanted this man to either confirm or disprove her suspicions about what was happening to her friends. That wouldn’t happen if she sent him flying. “Tell me about yourself,” she said, hoping that those were the magic words that would get him to stop leering and start talking.

Brad grinned, leaned back and began to talk. “You’re right, brokering is a very powerful profession. Gets me respect, power, money. Practically everything I want. What I want right now is to see more of you, especially those pretty legs,” he said with a knowing smile. “Come home with me tonight, and I’ll tell you all about the life of a broker, some of my conquests.”

Somehow, Brad found her knee and squeezed. He started to walk his fingers higher.

Natalie fought the urge to strike out. Instead, she scooted back and away from his roving hands. She was obviously not going to get any information from Brad Herron tonight. “Whoa, it’s really getting late,” she said, looking at her watch. “I didn’t realize so much time had passed. And tomorrow’s a working day. I have to get home and get some sleep.”

Brad’s brows nearly touched, he was frowning so hard. But then he almost visibly pulled himself together and smiled. “You’ll be back, won’t you?” It was almost a command rather than a question, the comment of a man who was used to getting his way with women.

“I might be.” She would be, but it wouldn’t do to appear too eager. It was information she wanted, nothing more. Next time she would come prepared with a better plan.

He laughed, reaching out quickly as if to grab her again. She dodged as he laughed again. “You’re a fascinating woman. I’ll bet you look great naked.”

Natalie refrained from decking the guy. Instead she gave him a fake and fleeting smile, said goodbye and did her best to walk calmly toward the door. Just as she was leaving, she saw Neil Gerard from the corner of her eye.

He smiled shyly in a little-boy kind of way.

“It was nice to meet you,” she said, and he tugged at his collar self-consciously. “Next time we’ll play pool,” she added, motioning to the cue he held.

He nodded jerkily and she moved toward the door.

“Watch yourself, Gerard. I’ve got first dibs,” Brad called, but Natalie could tell he was just making fun of the shyer man. “You wouldn’t know how to handle those legs, anyway.”

Natalie didn’t look back, but quickly exited the building, letting herself out onto the cool, dark street and heading toward home.

She was halfway down the block when she heard the noise pick up again, and she guessed that Vincent had left the bar. Immediately she felt an urge to tug on her skirt. Which was completely ridiculous. Her skirt wasn’t even revealing. It wasn’t tight.

But she could feel Vincent’s eyes on her and she felt suddenly naked, as if he were aware that she was wearing white bikini underpants beneath her clothing. It was a bizarre and unsettling feeling for her. She was used to being in control, the one who called the shots, the one who dictated how things were going to be. Now she felt as if she were spinning in circles, completely off balance, unable to control anything. Her body felt flushed and hot in a way it hadn’t when Brad was trying to grab her.

Bad sign if she was lusting after her bodyguard. She didn’t like men, or people for that matter, who hovered.

She heard a car door slam, an engine rev, and soon Vincent pulled up beside her. “Get in,” he said.

Oh, that would be such a completely bad idea. Just moments ago, she had been thinking lusty thoughts about him. Closing herself up in the small space of a car wouldn’t help anyone. She shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. “It’s a nice night. I’d like to walk.”

He rubbed one hand over his eyes. “It is, but I don’t feel like having to beat anyone to a pulp tonight. That greasy idiot in the bar was bad enough, but those guys behind you could be dangerous.”

Natalie turned and saw that there were three men following her down the street. They eyed her with interest.

“Get rid of that guy, lady. We can pay you more.”

“Or you can pay us,” the second one said, making kissing sounds at her.

Natalie’s heart started to drum. It was obvious that, lost in her thoughts, she had been careless. And Vincent was right. Brad she could take down if need be. Three guys who looked as if they fed on fear were something else entirely. And from their vantage point, they couldn’t see Vincent’s size. They weren’t slowing down. She thought one of them might be holding a knife.

She turned toward the car, but heard rushing footsteps behind her.

“Not another step,” Vincent ordered the men as he climbed from the car, rolling those impressive shoulders of his and turning to face the men in the street.

The men hesitated, but they didn’t stop.

“You want to fight for her, let’s do it,” Vincent said, his voice eerily quiet and deadly. He looked like a man who could kill with his bare hands, and he was twice as big as any of the men he was facing.

“You think you’re scary?” the guy with the knife asked. “Not a chance. Get her,” he ordered his friends. He ran straight at Vincent, while the other two men headed for Natalie.

Vincent ignored the guy hurtling his way. Instead, he kicked out at one of Natalie’s pursuers, and there was a crunching sound as his foot connected with bone. Then he whirled, leaving the guy screaming, kicking the man with the knife in the stomach while he brought his elbow up and caught the third man in the neck. Both men fell.

“Are we done?” Vincent asked, and Natalie wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to the men. She didn’t wait to see. Instead, she got into the car.

Vincent followed her, leaving the three men struggling to rise. He drove the car in silence for the first few blocks.

“Have fun back there?” he finally asked.

“Not especially, no.” She tried not to shiver with revulsion as she thought about Brad grabbing at her or about the three who had awaited her outside.

“Good. I’m assuming you’re done with the octopus.”

She breathed in deeply and the scent of Vincent’s aftershave, the scent of man, drifted to her. Natalie closed her eyes and tried to ignore her reaction, which was very definitely female. She hated having those kinds of reactions. It was a weakness, and in her line of work and with her background, she couldn’t afford to be weak. All her life, weakness had been the enemy. She couldn’t let it creep in.

“I have to go back and see the octopus again. I need information.”

Vincent swore beneath his breath. “That guy isn’t looking to hand out information. He’s looking to get laid.”

“I know that. I’m not planning on getting that close.”

“Is this so important?”

Was it? Natalie examined what had happened tonight. She had been propositioned, nearly pawed in a sickening and degrading kind of way. She hated that. Frankly, she wanted to do as Vincent asked and turn her back on the whole thing. But then she thought of Mrs. Morgensen and she knew that this job had become more than a job for her. It was much more than a ticket to a hot story and a byline. Her family had never trusted her to get through an entire day on her own. But Mrs. Morgensen and the others trusted her to help them, to salve their wounds, to see that justice was done, to save them. No one had ever needed her in that way. For that alone she cared about her frightened neighbors. She felt such an overwhelming sense of responsibility for each and every one of them. And while she didn’t know if she could save them, she had to try. That was all there was to it. If she didn’t do it, who would? And if she couldn’t do it, then maybe her family had been right all along. No, this was more than a story, more than a career path. Helping her friends was a necessity.

“Natalie?” Vincent urged.

She sighed. “These are elderly people, people with very little money to lose, and they’ve had their life savings taken away. I think someone is cheating them.”

“Then leave it to the police.”

“The police know about it, but there isn’t any proof whatsoever. Old people lose their money every day. They get taken advantage of. No one can do anything about it if there isn’t any proof.”

“And you intend to get that proof. You want to stop covering Beep-Beep the Clown.”

She glared at him. “Actually, Beep-Beep was a pretty nice guy in his way, but yes, I’d like to do something more meaningful.”

“And you’re willing to put yourself in danger for a story.”

She refused to explain about her bonds with Mrs. Morgensen and the details of her problems with her family. That wasn’t anyone’s business but her own. Besides, she didn’t want anyone thinking she was soft in any way.

“That’s what reporters do,” she said, trying to sound as hard-boiled as possible.

“And to hell with the risks? To hell with everything? Including your own feelings about being some man’s toy?”

No, that was part of her problem. She couldn’t seem to put the emotional aspects of this case aside. She was already too personally involved with this story, but Mrs. Morgensen and her other neighbors were real people who hurt and dreamed and cried. She was supposed to be able to turn the emotion off and just write, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t good for a reporter to get entangled with her subjects. She knew that.

“Natalie?”

“I can handle my feelings,” she lied.

“Can you deal with what’s going to happen if those two men both decide they have to have you? Can you handle the fallout and the risks?”

“I’m not going to lead anyone on. I’ll keep it light.”

“What if you can’t? Men can be animals.” He practically growled the words, his voice deep and husky. Natalie shivered. Anger and passion were so closely related. She couldn’t help wondering what that voice would sound like in a bed in the dark of night.

“It’s not going to get that far,” she insisted. “I know how to protect myself and how to call a halt to things.”

“Some men get ugly when a woman calls a halt to things. Don’t do this, Natalie. I’m trying to keep you safe. Don’t make it harder. You’re already getting threatening notes. Don’t add another element by pursuing these men. The story would be just as compelling if you simply wrote Mrs. Morgensen’s story.”

He was probably right. “But there wouldn’t be any chance of justice. I want her to have justice. Do you understand?”

When she turned to him, his eyes were like dark flames. “I understand the desire for justice. Very much so.” His voice was a promise, harsh and full of pain she didn’t understand. She felt a sudden urge to touch him, to soothe him.

She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, what his personal stake in justice was.

But he reached out and touched one finger to her lips, startling her. Her body reacted and she almost leaned forward to get closer and feel more as he pulled away. “You need some sleep,” he growled, and she knew that he wasn’t going to give up any secrets to her. Maybe he didn’t trust her not to turn him into another feature story, or maybe he just didn’t like her all that much. She was, after all, a client his brother had foisted on him.

A slow, disappointing ache slipped through her. That was too darn bad. Because Vincent Fortune was exactly the macho type of man she needed to stay away from.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask about your personal life.”

He gave her a slow smile. “And you’ll be more careful than you were tonight?”

She nodded.

“Good. I didn’t like that guy.”

She didn’t have to ask what guy he was talking about. Neil had barely said a word. “I didn’t like him much myself.”

Vincent chuckled. “He did get one thing right, though. Nice legs,” he said as he pulled up in front of her house and came around to open her door. “I’d be more careful slipping out of windows if I were you.”

Her eyes opened wide and she blinked. Vincent laughed again. “Ah, not as hard-boiled as you like to pretend, are you, Natalie?”

She managed a challenging smile as she got out of the car and stood beside him. “I’m many things, Vincent, and hard-boiled is just one of them. Nice biceps,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “I’d be more careful knocking the stuffing out the bad guys. Your muscles show.” She took a deep breath and dared to wink at him.

Vincent’s eyes turned dark, but then he laughed. “All right, one for you,” he admitted with a touch of admiration in his voice as she turned and walked to her door, the sound of Vincent’s heels on the pavement close behind her.

All the time that Natalie was moving down the hall to her apartment, opening her door, letting herself in, and saying goodnight and locking the door behind her, she was incredibly aware that Vincent was watching her every move. She might be his client, but she remembered that look in his eyes and realized that he didn’t think of her as just a job. He also saw her as a woman.

And that made her feel like a woman, soft and desirable and…frustrated, because she couldn’t ever touch or be touched by Vincent Fortune.

“No, one for you, Vincent,” she admitted with a sigh once she was safely inside. One of them was going to go sleepless tonight, and it wasn’t Vincent. Derek Seefer would be taking over his duties in an hour. Vincent would go home and sleep like all men slept, like her fathers and brothers had slept. No matter what happened, they managed to sleep soundly.

While she would toss and turn in her bed and wonder why on earth Daniel Fortune had had to send her a man like Vincent.

A man who reminded her that no matter how much progress she had made over the years, she still had weaknesses. Ah well, no matter; by morning she would have those weaknesses harnessed.

Vincent wasn’t going to get under her skin again. And he’d probably soon be gone. Those notes were most likely written in the heat of the moment and would soon stop.

Reporters got them all the time. There was no real danger other than Vincent’s masculine appeal.

Vincent spent a long time staring up at the ceiling that night. He had half a mind to call Derek and ask him if everything was all right. The other half of his mind wanted to drive to Natalie’s house and tell Derek that he would take care of things from here on out.

Which was stupid and wrong. Derek was a good guard. He knew how to do his job.

Even if Natalie tried to give him the slip? Vincent wondered, and he almost smiled at that. He remembered her climbing from that window, remembered her giving him that knowing smile and tossing his own words back at him. She was sassy and determined and she cared about her subjects. He had to admire that about her. Her green eyes were alive with intelligence and indignation at the injustice done to her friends. She was a beautiful woman on a mission, and she was determined to do her job no matter what. Could Derek handle that?

“The better question is, can you handle that?” Vincent asked himself. He was attracted to her, and he never allowed that to happen on a job.

But he would handle it this time.

Somehow.

“This is so difficult to handle,” Blake Jamison said two days later in a conversation with Ryan Fortune, head of the Fortune family and empire and now a new friend and relative whom Blake cherished. “I don’t really understand how all of this can have happened. In the years since we’ve been married, Darcy and I have led a dull but mostly contented existence. My family has had its problems, but this…this is so…I don’t know how to handle this. How is it that one of my sons—”

His voice broke. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“You don’t have to explain anything to us,” Patrick Fortune, Ryan’s cousin, said. Patrick’s banking business had led to a life in New York but he was spending more time in Texas these days and planned to retire here soon. His opinion carried weight. “I’m sure you know that the Fortunes have had their own history of family problems over the years.”

“Yes, but for one of my sons to kill his own brother!” Blake practically yelled the words. “How does a man deal with that?”

“I don’t think he does, Blake,” Ryan said quietly. “I don’t think you’ll ever be able to reconcile the fact that Jason was able to kill not once, but twice, and that one of those he murdered was his own brother.”

Blake ran one hand through his hair, mussing it. Not that it mattered. Did anything matter anymore?

“I spent years trying to locate Jason. I don’t know what else Darcy and I could have done. We tried so many things. We tried to reach him, to change him. He was always difficult, but still, he was mine. I thought he would change as he grew up. I thought he was still mine. I understand that he seemed to be an exemplary employee while he was working for you.” Blake raised his eyes questioningly, hopefully, to Ryan.

“He seemed to be. But there’s a lot we still don’t know. Like the woman he killed. He passed her off as his wife. It appears that she wasn’t. The police said that her real name was Melissa Anderson, not Melissa Wilkes.”

“If that reporter, Natalie McCabe, hadn’t seen what happened and reported it, he might still be on the loose.”

Ryan shook his head. “They would have found him in time. Family members always get questioned. The fact that he claimed to be married to her and wasn’t would have only made the authorities more suspicious. Natalie’s witnessing the act only speeded up the process.”

Blake nodded. “I’m glad she turned him in. That’s a terrible thing for a father to say.” Tears filled his throat, and he paused, searching for words. “There’s a sickness in him, I think. He has to be sick.” But sickness implied that no one was to blame. That wasn’t what he meant to say.

Blake held up his hand as if to add something, but he didn’t know what was left to say. He had fathered three sons. Emmett was missing, Christopher was dead, and Jason might as well be dead.

“You can’t change what has happened, Blake,” Ryan was saying softly. “Don’t even try to make sense of it. It’s impossible. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

“I know. I have to learn to live with this.”

“You have to learn that you’re not to blame for Jason being in prison for murder,” Patrick said. “Don’t go down that road. As Ryan said, this isn’t your doing.”

“Christopher was a good man,” Blake said, barely able to even mouth the words. “I can’t forgive Jason.”

“You don’t have to,” Ryan said tersely. “Not unless you want to.”

Blake shook his head. “I can’t, but I have to see him. I have to try to understand. I have to learn to deal with all of this somehow.”

In his heart, Blake knew that he had to learn to deal with his own part in what had happened. Despite what Patrick and Ryan had said, Blake knew that he was not blameless in all of this. Not by a long shot.

Jason had been a problem child, and Blake had let it pass. He had ignored Darcy’s pleas to keep his children away from their grandfather, Farley. Farley had been half-crazy and jealous of the Fortune family, telling his grandson, Jason, about how Kingston Fortune had been fathered by a Jamison and how some of Kingston’s money and power should have belonged to the Jamisons. Never mind that Kingston’s father hadn’t even known he’d had a son, or that Kingston had been raised by the Fortune family. Farley ranted and raved to Jason, and Jason, already a troubled young man who idolized his grandfather, had listened to his grandfather’s demented ravings of injustice for years.

Deep down inside, Blake knew that he was to blame. He should have paid more attention to Jason, loved his son enough to try harder to save him from himself. If he had done that, maybe Jason’s idolization of Farley wouldn’t have happened. Farley had been a dangerous man.

Now Blake couldn’t help wondering just how dangerous and depraved Jason really was, and what he would do now that he was trapped.

“I have to try to do something,” Blake said.

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