New York Times bestselling author Linda Howard presents a reader favorite that smolders with romantic tension

Elizabeth Major and Tom Quinlan had a passionate relationship until Elizabeth broke things off abruptly, seemingly for no reason. Now Elizabeth has her own interior design business in a sleek office building in downtown Dallas, but she can’t escape her fiery past with Tom—he ends up right across the hall from her, running a private investigation office.

On a sweltering day in midsummer, a severe blackout traps Tom and Elizabeth alone together in the office building. They can’t resist the sparks that fly between them, but can their passion for each other overcome the secrets keeping them apart?

A thrilling romantic suspense story.

Previously published.

Overload
Linda Howard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

Thursday, July 21

It was hot, even for Dallas.

The scorching heat of the pavement seared through the thin leather of Elizabeth Major’s shoes, forcing her to hurry even though it was an effort to move at all in the suffocating heat. The sleek office building where she worked didn’t have its own underground parking garage, the builders having thought it unnecessary, since a parking deck was situated right across the street. Every time Elizabeth crossed the street in the rain, and every time she had risked being broiled by crossing it since this heat wave had begun, she swore that she would start looking for other office space. She always changed her mind as soon as she got inside, but it made her feel better to know she had the option of relocating.

Except for the parking situation, the building was perfect. It was only two years old, and managed to be both charming and convenient. The color scheme in the lobby was a soothing mixture of gray, dark mauve and white, striking the precise balance between masculine and feminine, so both genders felt comfortable. The lush greenery so carefully tended by a professional service added to the sense of freshness and spaciousness. The elevators were both numerous and fast and, so far, reliable. Her office having previously been in an older building where the elevator service had been cramped and erratic, Elizabeth doubly appreciated that last quality.

A private guard service handled the security, with a man stationed at a desk in the lobby for two shifts, from six in the morning until ten at night, as none of the businesses located in the building currently worked a third shift. Anyone wanting to come in earlier than six or stay later than ten had to let the guard service know. There was a rumor that the data processing firm on the tenth floor was considering going to three full shifts, and if that happened there would be a guard on duty around the clock. Until then, the building was locked down tight at 10:00 p.m. on weekdays and at 6:00 p.m. on weekends.

She pushed open the first set of doors and sighed with relief as the cool air rushed to greet her, washing over her hot face, evaporating the uncomfortable sweat that had formed in the time it had taken her to park her car and cross the street. When she entered the lobby itself through the second set of heavy glass doors, the full benefit of air conditioning swirled around her, making her shiver uncontrollably for just a second. Her panty hose had been clinging uncomfortably to her damp legs, and now the clammy feel made her grimace. For all that, however, she was jubilant as she crossed the lobby to the bank of elevators.

A big, unkempt man, a biker from the looks of him, entered the elevator just ahead of her. Immediately alert and wary, Elizabeth shifted her shoulder bag to her left shoulder, leaving her right hand unencumbered, as she stepped in and immediately turned to punch the button for the fifth floor, only to see a big, callused hand already pressing it. She aimed a vague smile, the kind people give each other in elevators, at the big man, then resolutely kept her gaze on the doors in front of her as they were whisked silently and rapidly to the fifth floor. But she relaxed somewhat, for if he was going to the fifth floor, he was undoubtedly involved, in some way, with Quinlan Securities.

She stepped out, and he was right on her heels as she marched down the hallway. Her offices were on the left, the chic interior revealed by the huge windows, and she saw that her secretary, Chickie, was back from lunch on time. Not only that, Chickie looked up and watched her coming down the hall. Or rather, she watched the man behind her. Elizabeth could see Chickie’s big dark eyes fasten on the big man and widen with fascination.

Elizabeth opened her office door. The biker, without pausing, opened the door to Quinlan Securities, directly across the hall from her. Quinlan Securities didn’t have any windows into the hallway, only a discreet sign on a solid-looking door. She had been glad, on more than one occasion, that there were no windows for more than one reason. The people who went through that door were …interesting, to say the least.

“Wow,” Chickie said, her gaze now fastened on the closed door across the hall. “Did you see that?”

“I saw it,” Elizabeth said dryly.

Chickie’s taste in men, regrettably, tended toward the unpolished variety. “He wore an earring,” she said dreamily. “And did you see his hair?”

“Yes. It was long and uncombed.”

“What a mane! I wonder why he’s going into Quinlan’s.” Chickie’s eyes brightened. “Maybe he’s a new staffer!”

Elizabeth shuddered at the thought, but it was possible. Unfortunately the “Securities” in Quinlan Securities didn’t refer to the financial kind but the physical sort. Chickie, who didn’t have a shy bone in her body, had investigated when they had first moved into the building and cheerfully reported that Quinlan handled security of all types, from security systems to bodyguards. To Elizabeth’s way of thinking, that didn’t explain the type of people they saw coming and going from the Quinlan offices. The clientele, or maybe it was the staff, had a decidedly rough edge. If they were the former, she couldn’t imagine them having enough money to afford security services. If they were the latter, she likewise couldn’t imagine a client feeling comfortable around bodyguards who looked like mass murderers.

She had dated Tom Quinlan, the owner, for a while last winter, but he had been very closemouthed about his business, and she had been wary about asking. In fact, everything about Tom had made her wary. He was a big, macho, take-charge type of man, effortlessly overwhelming in both personality and body. When she had realized how he was taking over her life, she had swiftly ended the relationship and since then gone out of her way to avoid him. She would not lose control of her life again, and Tom Quinlan had overstepped the bounds in a big way.

Chickie dragged her attention away from the closed door across the hall and looked expectantly at Elizabeth. “Well?”

Elizabeth couldn’t hold back the grin that slowly widened as her triumph glowed through. “She loved it.”

“She did? You got it?” Chickie shrieked, jumping up and sending her chair spinning.

“I got it. We’ll start next month.” Her lunch meeting had been with Sandra Eiland, possessor of one of the oldest fortunes in Dallas. Sandra had decided to renovate her lavish hacienda-style house, and Elizabeth had just landed the interior-design account. She had owned her own firm for five years now, and this was the biggest job she had gotten, as well as being the most visible one. Sandra Eiland loved parties and entertained often; Elizabeth couldn’t have paid for better advertising. This one account lifted her onto a completely different level of success.

Chickie’s enthusiasm was immediate and obvious; she danced around the reception area, her long black hair flying. “Look out, Dallas, we are cooking now!” she crowed. “Today the Eiland account, tomorrow—tomorrow you’ll do something else. We are going to be busy.”

“I hope,” Elizabeth said as she passed through into her office.

“No hoping to it.” Chickie followed, still dancing. “It’s guaranteed. The phone will be ringing so much I’ll have to have an assistant. Yeah, I like the idea of that. Someone else can answer the phone, and I’ll chase around town finding the stuff you’ll need for all the jobs that will be pouring in.”

“If you’re chasing around town, you won’t be able to watch the comings and goings across the hall,” Elizabeth pointed out in a casual tone, hiding her amusement.

Chickie stopped dancing and looked thoughtful. She considered Quinlan’s to be her own secret treasure trove of interesting, potential men, far more productive than a singles’ bar.

“So maybe I’ll have two assistants,” she finally said. “One to answer the phone, and one to chase around town while I stay here and keep things organized.”

Elizabeth laughed aloud. Chickie was such an exuberant person that it was a joy to be around her. Their styles complemented each other, Elizabeth’s dry, sometimes acerbic wit balanced by Chickie’s unwavering good nature. Where Elizabeth was tall and slim, Chickie was short and voluptuous. Chickie tended toward the dramatic in clothing, so Elizabeth toned down her own choices. Clients didn’t like to be overwhelmed or restrained. It was subtle, but the contrast between Elizabeth and Chickie in some way relaxed her clients, reassured them that they wouldn’t be pressured into a style they weren’t comfortable with. Of course, sometimes Elizabeth wasn’t comfortable with her own style of dress, such as today, when the heat was so miserable and she would have been much happier in shorts and a cotton T-shirt, but she had mentally, and perhaps literally, girded her loins with panty hose. If it hadn’t been for the invention of air conditioning, she never would have made it; just crossing the street in this incredible heat was a feat of endurance.

Chickie’s bangle bracelets made a tinkling noise as she seated herself across from Elizabeth’s desk. “What time are you leaving?”

“Leaving?” Sometimes Chickie’s conversational jumps were a little hard to follow. “I just got back.”

“Don’t you ever listen to the radio? The heat is hazardous. The health department, or maybe it’s the weather bureau, is warning everyone to stay inside during the hottest part of the day, drink plenty of water, stuff like that. Most businesses are opening only in the mornings, then letting their people go home early so they won’t get caught in traffic. I checked around. Just about everyone in the building is closing up by two this afternoon.”

Elizabeth looked at the Eiland folder she had just placed on her desk. She could barely wait to get started. “You can go home anytime you want,” she said. “I had some ideas about the Eiland house that I want to work on while they’re still fresh in my mind.”

“I don’t have any plans,” Chickie said immediately. “I’ll stay.”

Elizabeth settled down to work and, as usual, soon became lost in the job. She loved interior design, loved the challenge of making a home both beautiful and functional, as well as suited to the owner’s character. For Sandra Eiland, she wanted something that kept the flavor of the old Southwest, with an air of light and spaciousness, but also conveyed Sandra’s sleek sophistication.

The ringing of the telephone finally disrupted her concentration, and she glanced at the clock, surprised to find that it was already after three o’clock. Chickie answered the call, listened for a moment, then said, “I’ll find out. Hold on.” She swiveled in her chair to look through the open door into Elizabeth’s office. “It’s the guard downstairs. He’s a substitute, not our regular guard, and he’s checking the offices, since he doesn’t know anyone’s routine. He says that almost everyone else has already gone, and he wants to know how late we’ll be here.”

“Why don’t you go on home now,” Elizabeth suggested. “There’s no point in your staying later. And tell the guard I’ll leave within the hour. I want to finish this sketch, but it won’t take long.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Chickie said yet again.

“No, there’s no need. Just switch on the answering machine. I promise I won’t be here much longer.”

“Well, all right.” Chickie relayed the message to the guard, then hung up and retrieved her purse from the bottom desk drawer. “I dread going out there,” she said. “It might be worth it to wait until after sundown, when it cools down to the nineties.”

“It’s over five hours until sundown. This is July, remember.”

“On the other hand, I could spend those five hours beguiling the cute guy who moved in across the hall last week.”

“Sounds more productive.”

“And more fun.” Chickie flashed her quick grin. “He won’t have a chance. See you tomorrow.”

“Yes. Good luck.” By the time Chickie sashayed out of the office, scarlet skirt swinging, Elizabeth had already become engrossed in the sketch taking shape beneath her talented fingers. She always did the best she could with any design, but she particularly wanted this one to be perfect, not just for the benefit to her career, but because that wonderful old house deserved it.

Her fingers finally cramped, and she stopped for a moment, noticing at the same time how tight her shoulders were, though they usually got that way only when she had been sitting hunched over a sketch pad for several hours. Absently she flexed them and was reaching for the pencil again when she realized what that tightness meant. She made a sound of annoyance when a glance at the clock said that it was 5:20, far later than she had meant to stay. Now she would have to deal with the traffic she had wanted to avoid, with this murderous heat wave making everyone ill-tempered and aggressive.

She stood and stretched, then got her bag and turned off the lights. The searing afternoon sun was blocked by the tall building next door, but there was still plenty of light coming through the tinted windows, and the office was far from dark. As she stepped out into the hall and turned to lock her door, Tom Quinlan exited his office and did the same. Elizabeth carefully didn’t look at him, but she felt his gaze on her and automatically tensed. Quinlan had that effect on her, always had. It was one of the reasons she had stopped dating him, though not the biggie.

She had the uncomfortable feeling that he’d been waiting for her, somehow, and she glanced around uneasily, but no one else was around. Usually the building was full of people at this hour, as the workday wound down, but she was acutely aware of the silence around them. Surely they weren’t the only two people left! But common sense told her that they were, that everyone else had sensibly gone home early; she wouldn’t have any buffer between herself and Quinlan.

He fell into step beside her as she strode down the hall to the elevators. “Don’t I even rate a hello these days?”

“Hello,” she said.

“You’re working late. Everyone else left hours ago.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.” He changed the subject abruptly. “Have dinner with me.” His tone made it more of an order than an invitation.

“No, thank you,” she replied as they reached the elevators. She punched the Down button and silently prayed for the elevator to hurry. The sooner she was away from this man, the safer she would feel.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

A soft chime signaled the arrival of a car; the elevator doors slid open, and she stepped inside. Quinlan followed, and the doors closed, sealing her inside with him. She reached out to punch the ground-floor button, but he caught her hand, moving so that his big body was between her and the control panel.

“You do want to, you’re just afraid.”

Elizabeth considered that statement, then squared her shoulders and looked up at his grim face. “You’re right. I’m afraid. And I don’t go out with men who scare me.”

He didn’t like that at all, even though he had brought up the subject. “Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he demanded in a disbelieving tone.

“Of course not!” she scoffed, and his expression relaxed. She knew she hadn’t quite told the truth, but that was her business, not his, a concept he had trouble grasping. Deftly she tugged her hand free. “It’s just that you’d be a big complication, and I don’t have time for that. I’m afraid you’d really mess up my schedule.”

His eyes widened incredulously, then he exploded. “Hellfire, woman!” he roared, the sound deafening in the small enclosure. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder for over six months because you don’t want me to interfere with your schedule?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “What can I say? We all have our priorities.” Deftly she leaned past him and punched the button, and the elevator began sliding smoothly downward.

Three seconds later it lurched to a violent stop. Hurled off balance, Elizabeth crashed into Quinlan; his hard arms wrapped around her as they fell, and he twisted his muscular body to cushion the impact for her. Simultaneously the lights went off, plunging them into complete darkness.

CHAPTER TWO

The red emergency lights blinked on almost immediately, bathing them in a dim, unearthly glow. She didn’t, couldn’t move, not just yet; she was paralyzed by a strange mixture of alarm and pleasure. She lay sprawled on top of Quinlan, her arms instinctively latched around his neck while his own arms cradled her to him. She could feel the heat of his body even through the layers of their clothing, and the musky man-scent of his skin called up potent memories of a night when there had been no clothing to shield her from his heat. Her flesh quickened, but her spirit rebelled, and she pushed subtly against him in an effort to free herself. For a second his arms tightened, forcing her closer, flattening her breasts against the hard muscularity of his chest. The red half-light darkened his blue eyes to black, but even so, she could read the determination and desire revealed in them.

The desire tempted her to relax, to sink bone-lessly into his embrace, but the determination had her pulling back. Almost immediately he released her, though she sensed his reluctance, and rolled to his feet with a lithe, powerful movement. He caught her arms and lifted her with ridiculous ease. “Are you all right? Any bruises?”

She smoothed down her skirt. “No, I’m fine. You?”

He grunted in reply, already opening the panel that hid the emergency phone. He lifted the receiver and punched the button that would alert Maintenance. Elizabeth waited, but he didn’t say anything. His dark brows drew together, and finally he slammed the receiver down. “No answer. The maintenance crew must have gone home early, like everyone else.”

She looked at the telephone. There was no dial on it, no buttons other than that one. It was connected only to Maintenance, meaning they couldn’t call out on it.

Then she noticed something else, and her head lifted. “The air has stopped.” She lifted her hand to check, but there was no cool air blowing from the vents. The lack of noise had alerted her.

“The power must be off,” he said, turning his attention to the door.

The still air in the small enclosure was already becoming stuffy. She didn’t like the feeling, but she refused to let herself get panicky. “It probably won’t be long before it comes back on.”

“Normally I’d agree with you, if we weren’t having a heat wave, but the odds are too strong that it’s a system overload, and if that’s the case, it can take hours to repair. We have to get out. These lights are battery operated and won’t stay on long. Not only that, the heat will build up, and we don’t have water or enough oxygen in here.” Even as he spoke, he was attacking the elevator doors with his strong fingers, forcing them open inch by inch. Elizabeth added her strength to his, though she was aware that he could handle it perfectly well by himself. It was just that she couldn’t tolerate the way he had of taking over and making her feel so useless.

They were stuck between floors, with about three feet of the outer doors visible at the bottom of the elevator car. She helped him force open those doors, too. Before she could say anything, he had lowered himself through the opening and swung lithely to the floor below.

He turned around and reached up for her. “Just slide out. I’ll catch you.”

She sniffed, though she was a little apprehensive about what she was going to try. It had been a long time since she had done anything that athletic. “Thanks, but I don’t need any help. I took gymnastics in college.” She took a deep, preparatory breath, then swung out of the elevator every bit as gracefully as he had, even encumbered as she was with her shoulder bag and handicapped by her high heels. His dark brows arched, and he silently applauded. She bowed. One of the things that she had found most irresistible about Quinlan was the way she had been able to joke with him. Actually there was a lot about him that she’d found irresistible, so much so that she had ignored his forcefulness and penchant for control, at least until she had found that report in his apartment. She hadn’t been able to ignore that.

“I’m impressed,” he said.

Wryly she said, “So am I. It’s been years.”

“You were on the college gymnastics team, huh? You never told me that before.”

“Nothing to tell, because I wasn’t on the college team. I’m too tall to be really good. But I took classes, for conditioning and relaxation.”

“From what I remember,” he said lazily, “you’re still in great shape.”

Elizabeth wheeled away and began walking briskly to the stairs, turning her back on the intimacy of that remark. She could feel him right behind her, like a great beast stalking its prey. She pushed open the door and stopped in her tracks. “Uh-oh.”

The stairwell was completely dark. It wasn’t on an outside wall, but it would have been windowless in any case. The hallway was dim, with only one office on that floor having interior windows, but the stairwell was stygian. Stepping into it would be like stepping into a well, and she felt a sudden primal instinct against it.

“No problem,” Quinlan said, so close that his breath stirred her hair and she could feel his chest brush against her back with each inhalation. “Unless you have claustrophobia?”

“No, but I might develop a case any minute now.”

He chuckled. “It won’t take that long to get down. We’re on the third floor, so it’s four short flights and out. I’ll hold the door until you get your hand on the rail.”

Since the only alternative was waiting there until the power came back on, Elizabeth shrugged, took a deep breath as if she were diving and stepped into the dark hole. Quinlan was so big that he blocked most of the light, but she grasped the rail and went down the first step. “Okay, stay right there until I’m with you,” he said, and let the door close behind him as he stepped forward.

She had the immediate impression of being enclosed in a tomb, but in about one second he was beside her, his arm stretched behind her back with that hand holding the rail, while he held her other arm with his free hand. In the warm, airless darkness she felt utterly surrounded by his strength. “I’m not going to fall,” she said, unable to keep the bite from her voice.

“You’re sure as hell not,” he replied calmly. He didn’t release her.

“Quinlan—”

“Walk.”

Because it was the fastest way to get out of his grasp, she walked. The complete darkness was disorienting at first, but she pictured the stairs in her mind, found the rhythm of their placement, and managed to go down at almost normal speed. Four short flights, as he had said. Two flights separated by a landing constituted one floor. At the end of the fourth flight he released her, stepped forward a few steps and found the door that opened onto the first floor. Gratefully Elizabeth hurried into the sunlit lobby. She knew it was all in her imagination, but she felt as if she could breathe easier with space around her.

Quinlan crossed rapidly to the guard’s desk, which was unoccupied. Elizabeth frowned. The guard was always there—or rather, he had always been there before, because he certainly wasn’t now.

When he reached the desk, Quinlan immediately began trying to open the drawers. They were all locked. He straightened and yelled, “Hello?” His deep voice echoed in the eerily silent lobby.

Elizabeth groaned as she realized what had happened. “The guard must have gone home early, too.”

“He’s supposed to stay until everyone is out.”

“He was a substitute. When he called the office, Chickie told him that I would leave before four. If there were other stragglers, he must have assumed that I was among them. What about you?”

“Me?” Quinlan shrugged, his eyes hooded. “Same thing.”

She didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t pursue it. Instead she walked over to the inner set of doors that led to the outside and tugged at them. They didn’t budge. Well, great. They were locked in. “There has to be some way out of here,” she muttered.

“There isn’t,” he said flatly.

She stopped and stared at him. “What do you mean, ‘there isn’t’?”

“I mean the building is sealed. Security. Keeps looters out during a power outage. The glass is reinforced, shatterproof. Even if we called the guard service and they sent someone over, they couldn’t unlock the doors until the electricity was restored. It’s like the vault mechanisms in banks.”

“Well, you’re the security expert. Get us out. Override the system somehow.”

“Can’t be done.”

“Of course it can. Or are you admitting there’s something you can’t do?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled benignly. “I mean that I designed the security system in this building, and it can’t be breached. At least, not until the power comes back on. Until then, I can’t get into the system. No one can.”

Elizabeth caught her breath on a surge of fury, more at his attitude than the circumstances. He just looked so damn smug.

“So we call 911,” she said.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? We’re stuck in this building!”

“Is either of us ill? Hurt? Are we in any danger? This isn’t an emergency, it’s an inconvenience, and believe me, they have their hands full with real emergencies right now. And they can’t get into the building, either. The only possible way out is to climb to the roof and be lifted off by helicopter, but that’s an awful lot of expense and trouble for someone who isn’t in any danger. We have food and water in the building. The sensible thing is to stay right here.”

Put that way, she grudgingly accepted that she had no choice. “I know,” she said with a sigh. “It’s just that I feel so…trapped.” In more ways than one.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll get to raid the snack machines—”

“They operate on electricity, too.”

“I didn’t say we’d use money,” he replied, and winked at her. “Under the circumstances, no one will mind.”

She would mind. She dreaded every minute of this, and it could last for hours. The last thing she wanted to do was spend any time alone with Quinlan, but it looked as if she had no choice. If only she could relax in his company, she wouldn’t mind, but that was beyond her ability. She felt acutely uncomfortable with him, her tension compounded of several different things: uppermost was anger that he had dared to pry into her life the way he had; a fair amount of guilt, for she knew she owed him at least an explanation, and the truth was still both painful and embarrassing; a sort of wistfulness, because she had enjoyed so much about him; and desire—God, yes, a frustrated desire that had been feeding for months on the memory of that one night they had spent together.

“We don’t have to worry about the air,” he said, looking around at the two-story lobby. “It’ll get considerably warmer in here, but the insulation and thermal-glazed windows will keep it from getting critically hot. We’ll be okay.”

She forced herself to stop fretting and think sensibly. There was no way out of this situation, so she might as well make the best of it, and that meant staying as comfortable as they could. In this case, comfortable meant cool. She began looking around; as he’d said, they had food and water, though they would have to scrounge for it, and there was enough furniture here in the lobby to furnish several living rooms, so they had plenty of cushions to fashion beds. Her mind skittered away from that last thought. Her gaze fell on the stairway doors, and the old saying “hot air rises” came to mind. “If we open the bottom stairway doors, that’ll create a chimney effect to carry the heat upward,” she said.

“Good idea. I’m going to go back up to my office to get a flashlight and raid the snack machine. Is there anything you want from your office while I’m up there?”

Mentally she ransacked her office, coming up with several items that might prove handy. “Quite a bit, actually. I’ll go with you.”

“No point in both of us climbing the stairs in the dark,” he said casually. “Just tell me what you want.”

That was just like him, she thought irritably, wanting to do everything himself and not involve her. “It makes more sense if we both go. You can pilfer your office for survival stuff, and I’ll pilfer mine. I think I have a flashlight, too, but I’m not certain where it is.”

“It’s eight flights, climbing, this time, instead of going down,” he warned her, looking down at her high heels.

In answer, she stepped out of her shoes and lifted her eyebrows expectantly. He gave her a thoughtful look, then gave in without more argument, gesturing her ahead of him. He relocated a large potted tree to hold the stairway door propped open, handling it as casually as if the big pot didn’t weigh over a hundred pounds. Elizabeth had a good idea how heavy it was, however, for she loved potted plants and her condo was always full of greenery. She wondered how it would feel to have such strength, to possess Quinlan’s basic self-confidence that he could handle any situation or difficulty. With him, it was even more than mere confidence; there was a certain arrogance, subtle but unmistakably there, the quiet arrogance of a man who knew his own strengths and skills. Though he had adroitly sidestepped giving out any personal information about his past, she sensed that some of those skills were deadly.

She entered the stairwell with less uneasiness this time, for there was enough light coming in through the open door to make the first two flights perfectly visible. Above that, however, they proceeded in thick, all-encompassing darkness. As he had before, Quinlan passed an arm behind her back to grip the rail, and his free hand held her elbow. His hand had always been there whenever they had gone up or down steps, she remembered. At first it had been pleasurable, but soon she had felt a little smothered, and then downright alarmed. Quinlan’s possessiveness had made her uneasy, rather than secure. She knew too well how such an attitude could get out of hand.

Just to break the silence she quipped, “If either of us smoked, we’d have a cigarette lighter to light our path.”

“If either of us smoked,” he came back dryly, “we wouldn’t have the breath to climb the stairs.”

She chuckled, then saved her energy to concentrate on the steps. Climbing five floors wasn’t beyond her capabilities, but it was still an effort. She was breathing hard by the time they reached the fifth floor, and the darkness was becoming unnerving. Quinlan stepped forward and opened the door, letting in a sweet spill of light.

They parted ways at their respective offices, Quinlan disappearing into his while Elizabeth unlocked hers. The late-afternoon light was still spilling brightly through the windows, reminding her that, in actuality, very little time had passed since the elevator had lurched to a halt. A disbelieving glance at her wristwatch said that it had been less than half an hour.

The flashlight was the most important item, and she searched the file cabinets until she found it. Praying that the batteries weren’t dead, she thumbed the switch and was rewarded by a beam of light. She switched it off and placed it on Chickie’s desk. She and Chickie made their own coffee, as it was both more convenient and better tasting than the vending machine kind, so she got their cups and put them on the desk next to the flashlight. Drinking from them would be easier than splashing water into their mouths with their hands, and she knew Chickie wouldn’t mind if Quinlan used her cup. Quite the contrary.

Knowing that her secretary had an active sweet tooth, Elizabeth began rifling the desk drawers, smiling in appreciation when she found a six-pack of chocolate bars with only one missing, a new pack of fig bars, chewing gum, a honey bun and a huge blueberry muffin. Granted, it was junk food, but at least they wouldn’t be hungry. Finally she got two of the soft pillows that decorated the chairs in her office, thinking that they would be more comfortable for sleeping than the upholstered cushions downstairs.

Quinlan opened the door, and she glanced at him. He had removed his suit jacket and was carrying a small black leather bag. He looked at her loot and laughed softly. “Were you a scout, by any chance?”

“I can’t take the credit for most of it. Chickie’s the one with a sweet tooth.”

“Remind me to give her a big hug the next time I see her.”

“She’d rather have you set her up on a date with that biker who came in after lunch.”

He laughed again. “Feeling adventurous, is she?”

“Chickie’s always adventurous. Was he a client?”

“No.”

She sensed that that was all the information he was going to give out about the “biker.” As always, Quinlan was extremely closemouthed about his business, both clients and staff. On their dates, he had always wanted to talk about her, showing interest in every little detail of her life, while at the same time gently stonewalling her tentative efforts to find out more about him. It hadn’t been long before that focused interest, coupled with his refusal to talk about himself, had begun making her extremely uncomfortable. She could understand not wanting to talk about certain things; there was a certain period that she couldn’t bring herself to talk about, either, but Quinlan’s secretiveness had been so absolute that she didn’t even know if he had any family. On the other hand, he had noticed the gap in her own life and had already started asking probing little questions when she had broken off the relationship.

There was a silk paisley shawl draped across a chair, and Elizabeth spread it across the desk to use as an upscale version of a hobo’s pouch. As she began piling her collection in the middle of the shawl, Quinlan casually flicked at the fringe with one finger. “Do people actually buy shawls just because they look good draped across chairs?”

“Of course. Why not?”

“It’s kind of silly, isn’t it?”

“I guess it depends on your viewpoint. Do you think it’s silly when people spend hundreds of dollars on mag wheels for their cars or trucks, just because they look good?”

“Cars and trucks are useful.”

“So are chairs,” she said dryly. She gathered the four corners of the shawl together and tied them in a knot. “Ready.”

“While we’re up here, we need to raid the snack machines, rather than rely on what you have there. There’s no point in making extra trips upstairs to get more food when we can get it now.”

She gave him a dubious look. “Do you think we’ll be here so long that we’ll need that much food?”

“Probably not, but I’d rather have too much than too little. We can always return what we don’t eat.”

“Logical,” she admitted.

He turned to open the door for her, and Elizabeth stared in shock at the lethal black pistol tucked into his waistband at the small of his back. “Good God,” she blurted. “What are you going to do with that?”

CHAPTER THREE

He raised his eyebrows. “Whatever needs doing,” he said mildly.

“Thank you so much for the reassurance! Are you expecting any kind of trouble? I thought you said the building was sealed.”

“The building is sealed, and no, I’m not expecting any trouble. That doesn’t mean I’m going to be caught unprepared if I’m wrong. Don’t worry about it. I’m always armed, in one way or another. It’s just that this is the first time you’ve noticed.”

She stared at him. “You don’t usually carry a pistol.”

“Yes, I do. You wouldn’t have noticed it now if I hadn’t taken my coat off.”

“You didn’t have one the night we—” She cut off the rest of the sentence.

“Made love?” He finished it for her. His blue eyes were steady, watchful. “Not that night, no. I knew I was going to make love to you, and I didn’t want to scare you in any way, so I locked the pistol in the glove compartment before I picked you up. But I had a knife in my boot. Just like I do now.”

It was difficult to breathe. She fought to suck in a deep breath as she bypassed the issue of the pistol and latched on to the most shocking part of what he’d just said. “You knew we were going to make love?”

He gave her another of those thoughtful looks. “You don’t want to talk about that right now. Let’s get finished here and get settled in the lobby before dark so we can save the batteries in the flashlights.”

It was another logical suggestion, except for the fact that night wouldn’t arrive until about nine o’clock, giving them plenty of time. She leaned back against the desk and crossed her arms. “Why don’t I want to talk about it now?”

“Just an assumption I made. You’ve spent over half a year avoiding me, so I didn’t think you would suddenly want to start an in-depth discussion. If I’m wrong, by all means let’s talk.” A sudden dangerous glitter lit his eyes. “Was I too rough? Was five times too many? I don’t think so, because I could feel your climaxes squeezing me,” he said bluntly. “Not to mention the way you had your legs locked around me so tight I could barely move. And I know damn good and well I don’t snore or talk in my sleep, so just what in hell happened to send you running?”

His voice was low and hard, and he had moved closer so that he loomed over her. She had never seen him lose control, but as she saw the rage in his eyes she knew that he was closer to doing so now than she had ever imagined. It shook her a little. Not because she was afraid of him—at least, not in that way—but because she hadn’t imagined it would have mattered so much to him.

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