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Craig shook his head, a reluctant grin sliding across his face. “A stalker. If I know Reggie, she’s turned this whole thing into a massive PR opportunity, hasn’t she?” Without waiting for Gabe to answer, he said, “She looks all sweet and genuine, but underneath she knows how to turn almost any situation to her advantage.” Though his assessment wasn’t entirely complimentary, his tone was admiring.

“She doesn’t strike me as manipulative,” Gabe said.

“That’s the beauty. She’s also smart enough to keep it from the rest of us. Snaked her first show right out from under me, and I didn’t even see it coming.” Craig shook his head. “That’s not fair of me to say. She has great appeal, and fans love her, there’s no denying that. But she’s a very savvy businesswoman.” He shook his head and laughed ruefully. “Hell, I wouldn’t put it past her to make the whole stalker thing up, or at least blow it out of proportion if she thought it could help her.”

Craig’s words nibbled at the back of Gabe’s brain, feeding the little kernel of doubt Malcolm had planted last week about why certain aspects of this situation didn’t add up.

He mentally shook himself. He was letting the remarks of an insecure dickhead feed into his own baggage.

Just then Reggie caught his eye from across the room. The sweet, tentative smile she sent him was softly uncertain and it almost brought him to his knees. His own lips curled in response. His gut, which he’d ignored for the past year, told him there was no way he’d be dumb enough to fall for the shrewd manipulator Craig had described.

Reggie was exactly what she appeared: sweet, smart, genuine, and driven. He had to trust himself on that. It scared the hell out of him to admit it, but he loved her too much not to.

“T
his doesn’t make any sense.” Gabe’s warm hand rested on Reggie’s shoulder as he read the latest e-mail sent by the stalker.

Fort the past week, he’d sent at least one a day. But instead of threats of violence, the e-mails were almost friendly in tone. Today’s included an attachment, another picture of a lingerie-clad model with Reggie’s face Photoshopped into it. Since they’d returned to San Francisco three days ago, it had gotten to the point where Reggie was afraid to turn on her computer for fear of what revolting thing she might receive.

“This guy should have revealed himself by now,” Gabe continued, his hot breath dusting her ear.

Reggie turned away from the computer screen to face him, her breath catching a little at the sexy, rumpled picture he presented. His T-shirt and jeans were worn soft, and his dark eyes were heavy with sleep. It was after one
A
.
M
., and he’d been dozing on the couch when Reggie had called him into the office.

“Revealed himself?”

Gabe squatted down so he was at eye level with her and rested his hands on her thighs. “Stalkers aren’t known for their discretion. Your guy obviously thinks he has some claim on you, some relationship, that he has the right to be jealous or threaten you because you’re with me. Even if they keep their identity secret at the beginning, most stalkers will eventually try to make personal contact, because in his mind, you’ll welcome that.”

“You don’t call that personal contact?” Reggie pointed her thumb over her shoulder, where the doctored photo was vibrantly displayed on her flat panel.

“It’s unusual for him to remain anonymous this long.” He straightened up, scratching his chin as though in deep thought. “I keep feeling like I’m missing something important, like the answer’s right in front of me.”

Reggie stretched and sighed. “I don’t think we’re going to find him tonight, and I’m beat.”

He smiled distractedly and asked about her book.

“If I have a few more days like today, I should be able to hand in the last round of revisions before Thanksgiving.” Thank God. The mere thought of sending off the final chapters made her shoulders lift. “It’s easier to get work done when I’m home.”

She moved easily into his arms for a kiss, tasting distraction on his lips.

“Do you mind if I poke around in your e-mail a little bit?”

She debated for a minute, scrambling to remember if there was anything embarrassing he might find. Then she shrugged. He might find some things about himself, but nothing she hadn’t told him to his face. Other than that, it was mostly business and mundane daily correspondence.

Noticing her hesitation, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll limit my snooping to the past few months,” he said. “I want to take a look at who’s writing you, maybe see if there are similarities in the language, anything suggestive you might have missed if you weren’t expecting it from someone.”

She nodded, leaning into his chest for one last squeeze before bed. “I also set up an account for Natalie on there too. It’s all business-related stuff, but maybe there’s something in there.”

Gabe wiped the grit from his eyes, futilely trying to blink back moisture into his screen-scorched eyeballs. He’d searched through Reggie’s e-mails, but once again came up blank. But he’d gone ahead and sent copies of the stalker’s most recent e-mails to Malcolm for analysis, along with e-mails from Tyler, Max, and a handful of other male contacts he didn’t recognize. He also gave Malcolm access to Natalie’s account to see if there was a clue as to how the stalker was getting such detailed information on Reggie’s schedule.

He hadn’t heard anything yet on the previous e-mails, as Malcolm’s hacking team was tied up tracking down a credit card fraud ring.

Other than getting more info on the e-mails, Gabe was not in a hurry to talk to his old friend anytime soon. Though he hadn’t said it, Gabe had clearly heard the words, “You’re a dumbass,” in his friend’s voice when he’d told Malcolm about his decision to stay with Reggie.

Still, Malcolm hadn’t pulled any punches. “This is a bad decision, and I won’t tell you otherwise,” Malcolm had said curtly. “I have twenty guys I can call to do what you’re doing. There’s no reason you should be wasting your time when your skills could be put to much better use.”

“I couldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to her.” Gabe had practically choked on the admission. “I can’t quit till we find this guy.”

“Yeah, you made a commitment and I respect that, but be careful you’re not thinking with your little head.”

Malcolm’s blunt assessment still sat like a sack of rocks in his stomach. He could only hope that once the guy was caught and this was all over, Malcolm would still be willing to hire him back.

He put the finishing touches on his latest masterpiece, once again thanking his good fortune for those graphic design classes he’d taken a couple of years ago. At the time he’d hoped to incorporate them into his work, saving money on promotional materials for himself and his clients.

In the end, his design skills were remedial at best, but he could doctor up a photo like nobody’s business. All it took was a high-speed Internet connection and an extensive collection of pornography was at his fingertips. Add in a little Photoshop, and Reggie became the star of any number of twisted fantasies.

If only he could share them with her. But now was not the time. For now he had to content himself with sending her the tamer photos. He knew better than to frighten her with what he really had in mind.

He was particularly proud of his latest work. The woman even looked like Reggie, with her big doe eyes and full mouth. Her body was similar, too—perky breasts, flat belly, and a full, lush ass. A masked man stood over her wielding an abnormally large dildo.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to edit in Reggie’s face. Which would be nice because the woman was wincing in pain, blobs of mascara smudged around her eyes, lipstick smeared across her chin as though she’d had a particularly hard time of it.

He copied the file to his flash stick for safekeeping.

He hoped the tokens he’d sent so far were driving the gorilla to distraction.

Bile curdled in his throat, searing his insides as it did every time he thought of that animal pawing at Reggie.

It hurt him, what he had to do to Reggie. Sometimes it nearly brought him to tears, to know that the perfect life he had planned for them—the creative genius and his muse—was not to be.

But she’d been unfaithful and was continuing to be so. Just today he’d seen her on the street, grinning up at the gorilla like a dirty slut as he pawed her perfect ass in the middle of the street.

But the gorilla would be gone soon.

He had to be patient. After enough time passed and Reggie let her guard down, he could finally make his move.

Grinning hugely at the camera, Reggie swept her arm to encompass the magnificent view behind her. “Welcome to
Simply Delicious, USA
. I’m Reggie Caldwell, and today I can’t wait to show you around my hometown of San Francisco!”

She didn’t have to fake a second of her enthusiastic intro. How could she be anything but deliriously happy? She was home, finally, and today was a perfect Bay Area fall day. Clear and sunny, their vantage in North Beach offered breathtaking views of the bay, the Golden Gate Bridge, and the verdant green of the Marin headlands.

Best of all, ever-watchful Gabe stood discreetly behind the cameraman giving her a look that said he couldn’t wait to take her home and rip off her clothes.

She breezed through the establishing shots, winning an enthusiastic thumbs-up from Carrie. “Great energy, Reggie. Carry that over into tomorrow’s segment.”

Even though she was more than ready to finish up with location shoots and get back to some semblance of a normal life, she was excited for tomorrow’s shoot. Unbeknownst to Gabe, she had a surprise planned.

Several weeks ago, she’d talked to Carrie about changing the San Francisco show topic. Originally, she was going to visit three of Chinatown’s most renowned chefs. But Gabe and his reminiscing about his Croatian grandmother’s cooking had given her a truly unique idea.

The Tadisch Grill was a landmark restaurant in San Francisco. Open since 1849, it was the oldest restaurant in the city. Although it served primarily traditional American seafood, the restaurant had its roots as a coffee and sandwich stand started by two Croatian immigrants. Since then, it had been run by a succession of Croatian families.

He didn’t know it, but he was going to join her on air and help them create a traditional Croatian feast, complete with the Prsurate he so loved.

As the crew started the process of packing up, she walked over to Gabe and caught him around the waist. She buried her face into the open neck of his shirt, the spicy, masculine scent of him sending a burst of warmth between her thighs.

Reaching a hand around his neck, she tugged his head down until his ear was level to her mouth. “I want to take you home and lick you all over,” she whispered, giggling as ruddy color flooded his face.

She snuck a glance at her watch. Oh yeah, they definitely had time to sneak in a quickie before she got back to work on her latest round of revisions.

Gabe slid his hand under her jacket, tracing a path of heat up her spine.

The shrill cry of her cell phone erupted from her pocket. Oops. She hadn’t realized she’d left it on. “Good thing…” she scanned the caller ID screen, “Tyler didn’t call five minutes ago.”

Stepping back from Gabe with an apologetic grin, she lifted the phone to her ear.

“I have great news,” Tyler boomed.

“You and Natalie are moving in together,” she teased. After their dinner in L.A., Natalie had filled in the details on the sudden change in her relationship with Tyler. Reggie had been nervous at first, not sure if it was a smart move for either one of them. But Natalie’s giddy happiness and blooming self-confidence—not to mention the way Tyler looked at her sister like she was the most perfect creation he’d ever seen—quickly put Reggie’s mind at ease.

Tyler choked out a flustered reply. “Wha—no, well, not now, but maybe…” He cleared his throat as Reggie stifled a laugh at her usually cool, glib publicist’s loss of composure. “The network wants you to do their live holiday special.”

She nearly dropped the phone. “You’re kidding.” Every year the Cuisine Network aired an hour-long, live Christmas Eve special with their top hosts. Even better, once the live broadcast was over, the show was syndicated to network affiliates and shown on regular network television.

All of the hosts participating were Cuisine Network veterans, and most had at least three different series to boast of. It was almost unheard of for a relatively new talent, with just a few seasons of one show under her belt, to be invited to participate.

Dazed with excitement, she asked Tyler to e-mail her all the details and call her later. She was simply too excited to absorb any pertinent information.

The Cuisine Network wanted her to be a star. They were banking on her to be as huge a draw as their other big-name hosts. This was it. She was finally going to make up for all the years she struggled to make ends meet as a personal chef, all the years she felt like a loser and wondered if she’d been insane to give up a steady, lucrative career in accounting to pursue her passion for food. Even her mother, who thought her show was barely a rung above a cable access program, would have to admit that an appearance on network television connoted some measure of success.

Almost immediately her breath accelerated and her heart began to pound. Was this what an anxiety attack felt like?

What if she screwed up? What if the other chefs looked down at her for her self-taught credentials and comparatively simple food preparation? What if she messed up the entire show by spilling on herself or someone else during the live broadcast?

“Reggie.” Gabe wrapped a steadying arm around her. “Are you okay? You’re white. Did something happen? Is someone hurt?” He started to pull her over to a folding chair, but she shook her head and took a steadying, head-clearing, heart-slowing breath.

Leaning into him to steady herself, she said, “No, it’s great news, actually.” She went on to explain that one of the original chefs had to cancel and the network wanted her to fill his spot.

His eyebrows drew into a thick, dark line and familiar tense lines bracketed his sensual lips. Of course he wouldn’t be as excited as she, as he had no idea what this meant. “This is a great opportunity,” she said quickly, ticking off the list of celebrity chefs participating in the live Christmas Eve broadcast.

But the more information she gave, the more cold and closed Gabe’s expression grew. Until he appeared the same man who had walked into her apartment nearly two months ago—aloof, indifferent, uncaring.

Raw panic snaked down her spine. What had she done now? “Why are you so upset? I thought you’d be happy for me.” She hated the whiny note that crept into her voice.

Her body felt cold where he’d removed his supporting arm. “I am happy for you,” he said quietly. “What I’m not so happy about is canceling the reservations for our Christmas trip I just made.”

Oh, crap. Her stomach dropping somewhere around her ankles, Reggie raised a placating hand. “I’m sorry, I forgot, but we never confirmed those plans and—”

He barked a humorless laugh. “Right. I’ll remember from now on verbal commitments don’t count unless they’re programmed into your Palm Pilot, and even then they’re negotiable.”

“That’s unfair,” she protested feebly, but deep down she knew he was right. He’d watched her cancel personal plans right and left this week as she worked to finish her book and did phone interviews to promote the upcoming season of
Simply Delicious
.

But what choice had she had? Her book was on a deadline, and both Tyler and Natalie had worked their asses off to get the interviews scheduled.

Then she looked at Gabe, his face set in tense lines of resignation. That awful look that said he was disappointed not just in her for casually dismissing their plans, but in himself for expecting anything better from her.