Obsession

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully. “Someone called me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Someone who called himself ‘Ted.’”

“Ted? Ted who?” she asked.

“I wish I knew. I thought maybe you could help me figure it out,” he admitted, launching into his short tale and starting with the first nerve-jangling call from “Ted,” and ending with his gut feeling that Dr. Henshaw was holding out on him. “Do you have a recorder—a tape player?”

She nodded mutely, then retrieved the portable player from her bedroom. Zane picked up his jacket and took out a small tape, which he snapped into the machine. A few seconds later, “Ted’s” warning echoed through the room.

“Oh, my God,” Kaylie whispered, her hand to her mouth. She listened to the tape twice, her insides wrenching as the warning was repeated. Zane, though he attempted to appear calm, was coiled tightly, his features tense, his eyes flicking from her to the corners of the room, as if he half expected someone to jump out and attack her.

Why now? she wondered frantically. Why ever?

She bit her lower lip, then thinking it a sign of weakness, stopped just as the tape clicked off. “Why did this ‘Ted’ guy call you? Why not me?”

“Beats me,” Zane admitted, sipping amber liquor from a short glass, his jaw sliding pensively to the side. “None of this is official. At least not yet.” Zane’s features were hard, and a quiet fury burned in his eyes. “So far we’ve only got this guy’s—whoever he is—word for it. I talked with Johnston’s psychiatrist and I didn’t like what he said.”

“But he didn’t say Johnston would be released.” She turned pleading eyes up at him.

“No, but I’ve got a gut feeling on this one. Henshaw was being too careful. My bet is that the man’s going to walk, Kaylie. Whoever called me had a reason.”

“Oh, God.” Her whole body shook. Stark moments of terror returned—memories of a deranged man who’d sworn he’d kill for her. “They can’t let him go. He’s sick! Beyond sick!”

Zane lifted a shoulder. “He’s been locked up a long time. Model patient. It wouldn’t surprise me if the courts decide he got better.”

Her world spun back to that horrible night when Johnston had threatened her, waved a knife in front of her eyes, his other arm hard against her stomach as he’d dragged her from the theater. He’d sworn then that he would kill for her and he wanted her to witness the sacrifice….

In her mind’s eye, she could still see his crazed smile, feel him tremble excitedly against her, smell the scent of his stale breath.

She sagged against the wall and felt the rough texture of plaster against her bare back. Think, Kaylie, she told herself, refusing to appear weak. Swallowing back her fear, she straightened and squared her shoulders. She couldn’t fall apart—she wouldn’t! Forcing her gaze to Zane’s, she silently prayed she didn’t betray any of the panic surging through her veins. “I think I’d better talk to Henshaw myself.”

“Be my guest.”

On weak legs she walked into the kitchen, looked up the number of the mental hospital, and dialed with shaky fingers. A receptionist answered on the fourth ring. “Whispering Hills.”

“Yes, oh, I’d like to talk to Dr. Henshaw, please. This is Kaylie Melville—I, um, I know one of his patients.”

“Oh, Miss Melville! Of course. I see you on television every morning,” the voice exclaimed excitedly. “But I’m sorry, Dr. Henshaw isn’t in right now.”

“Then maybe I could speak to someone else.” Kaylie tried to explain her predicament, but she couldn’t get past square one with the cheery voice on the other end of the line. No other doctor would talk to her, nor a nurse for that matter. On impulse she asked to talk to Ted and was informed that no one named Ted was employed by the hospital. Before the receptionist could hang up, Kaylie asked, “Please, just tell me, is Mr. Lee Johnston still a patient there?”

“Yes, he is,” she said, whispering a little. “But I really can’t tell you anything else. I’m sorry, but we have rules about discussing patients, you know. If you’ll leave your number, I’ll ask Dr. Henshaw to call you.”

“Thanks,” Kaylie whispered, replacing the receiver. She poured herself a glass of water and tried to quiet the raging fear. Think, Kaylie, think! Don’t fall apart! She drank the water, then made fists of her hands, willing herself to be calm.

When she walked back into the living room, Zane still sat on the couch, his elbows propped on his knees, his silvery eyes dark with concern. A part of her loved him for the fact that he cared, another part despised him for shoving his way back into her life when she’d just about convinced herself that she was over him.

“Well?”

“I didn’t get very far. Henshaw’s out. He’ll call back.”

The furrow in Zane’s brow deepened.

Kaylie, trying to take control of the situation, said, “I’ll—I’ll talk to my lawyer.”

“I already did.”

“You what?” she demanded, surprised that Zane would call her attorney, the very man who had drawn up the papers for their divorce.

“I called Blake. His hands are tied.”

She was already ahead of him. “Then I’ll talk to Detective Montello. He was the arresting officer. Surely he’d…” Her voice faded as she saw him shake his head, his dark hair rubbing across the back of his collar. “Unless you’ve already called him, too.”

“Montello’s not with the force any longer. The guy who took his place says he’ll look into it.”

“But you don’t believe him,” she said, guessing, her heart beginning to pound at the thought of Lee Johnston on the loose. Icy sweat collected between her shoulder blades.

“I just don’t want to take any chances.”

For the first time, she thought about him being in the house—waiting for her when she finished her swim. “Wait a minute, how did you get in here?”

Zane glanced away, avoiding her eyes. “I still have my keys.”

“You what?” she demanded, astounded at his audacity. He hadn’t seemed to age in the past seven years. His hair was still a rich, coffee brown, his features rough hewn and handsome. His eyes, erotic gray, were set deep behind thick black brows and long, spiky lashes. “But you gave them to me,” she said.

He offered her that same, off-center smile she’d found so disconcerting and sexy in the past. “I had an extra set.”

“And you kept them. So that seven years later you could break and enter? Of all the low, despicable… You have no right, no right to barge in here and make yourself at home—”

“I still care about you, Kaylie.”

All further protests died on her lips. Emotions, long buried, enveloped her, blinded her. Love and hate, anger and fear, joy and sorrow all tore at her as she remembered how much he had meant to her. Her breath was suddenly trapped tight in her lungs, and she had to swallow before she could speak. She shook her head. “Don’t, okay? Just… don’t.” She willfully controlled the traitorous part of her that wanted to trust him, to believe him, to love him again. Instead she concentrated on the truth. She couldn’t allow herself to feel anything for him. What they’d shared was long over. And their marriage hadn’t been a partnership. It had been a prison—a beautiful but painful fortress where their fragile love hadn’t had a ghost of a chance.

“Look, Kaylie, I just thought you should know that Johnston’s about to become a free man—”

“Oh, Lord.” Her knees went weak again, and her insides turned cold.

Zane sighed, offering her a tender look that once would have soothed her. But he didn’t cross the room, didn’t hold her as he once would have. Instead he rubbed impatiently at the back of his neck and glanced at a picture on the mantel—the small snapshot of their honeymoon. “Johnston was obsessed with you before, and I doubt that’s changed.”

“I haven’t heard from him in a long while.”

“No letters?”

She shook her head, trying to convince herself that Lee Johnston had forgotten her. After all, it had been years since that terrifying encounter, and the man had been in a mental hospital, receiving treatment. Maybe he’d changed….

“Don’t even think it,” Zane warned, as if reading the expressions on her face. “He’s a maniac. A psycho. He always will be.”

Deep down, Kaylie knew Zane was right. But what could she do? Live her life in terrified paranoia that Lee Johnston might come after her again? No way. She glanced down and noticed that she was wearing only her bathing suit still. “Your information could be wrong,” she said, walking to the laundry room, where she snagged her cover-up off a brass hook near the door. Standing half-naked in front of him only made the situation worse. She struggled into the peach-colored oversized top and pulled her hair through the neck hole only to find that Zane had followed her and was standing in the arch between the kitchen and laundry room, one shoulder propped against the wall. His gaze flicked down her body to her thighs, where the hem of her cover-up brushed against her bare skin.

“And the call?”

“A crank call.”

“You really think so?” he asked.

“I—I don’t know.” Kaylie cleared her throat and tried to concentrate on the conversation. “But I think you overreacted by driving all the way down here—”

“I called, damn it,” he snapped, his patience obviously in shreds as his eyes flashed back to hers. “But you didn’t bother to call me back.”

She felt another guilty pang, but ignored it. She’d considered returning his call and had even reached for the phone once or twice, but each time she’d stopped, unsure that she could deal with him and unwilling to complicate her life again.

“You didn’t say anything about Johnston—”

“Of course not! I didn’t want to freak you out with a message on your recorder.”

“Well, you’re doing a damn good job of it now,” she snapped, her own composure hanging by a thread. Just seeing Zane again sent all her emotions reeling, and now this…this talk about Johnston. It was just too much. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point.

Zane’s voice was softer. “Look, Kaylie, I think you should take some precautions—go low profile.”

“Low profile?” she repeated, trying to get a grip on herself as she walked past him into the kitchen. She couldn’t let him see her falling apart; she’d fought hard for her independence and she had to prove to him—and to herself—that she was able to take care of herself. She picked up a small pitcher and began watering the small pots of African violets behind her sink. But as she moved the glass pitcher from one small blossom to the next, the stream of water spilled on the blue tiles. She mopped up the mess with a towel and felt Zane’s eyes watching her, taking stock of her nervousness. “And what do you think I should do?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

His gaze, so rock steady it was maddening, met hers. “First of all, install new locks—a couple of dead bolts and a security system. State-of-the-art equipment.”

“With lasers and sirens and a secret code?” she mocked, trying to break the tension.

“With motion detectors and alarms. But that won’t be enough. If Johnston’s released, you’ll need me, Kaylie. It’s as simple as that.”

Desperate now, she tried to joke. “You? As what? My bodyguard again?” She watched him flinch. “I don’t think so—”

His hand shot out and he caught her wrist, spinning her around. She dropped her dish towel. “I’m serious, Kaylie,” he assured her, his voice low, nearly threatening. “This is nothing to joke about!”

Was he out of his mind? The inside of her wrist felt hot, and she fought the urge to lick her lips.

“And I think it would be best if you took some time off—”

“Now, wait a minute, I can’t leave the station high and dry!”

“Your career just about did you in before,” he reminded her, then glanced down to where his fingers were wrapped around her arm. Slowly he withdrew his hand. “You need a less visible job.” Then, as if realizing his request bordered on the ridiculous, he wiped his palms on his jeans and added, “Why don’t you just ask for a leave of absence until this mess with Johnston is straightened out?”

“No way. I’m not going to live the rest of my life in high anxiety—especially over some stupid call.” Though she was afraid, she couldn’t give in to the fear that had numbed her after Johnston’s last attack. And the man was still locked away.

Tossing her damp curls over her shoulder, she reached down and grabbed the towel from the floor. Her wrist, where Zane had held it so possessively only seconds before, still burned, but she ignored the sensation, refused to rub the sensitive spot where the pads of his fingers had left their impressions.

“Look, Kaylie,” he said, his voice edged with exasperation. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“And I appreciate it,” she replied, though they both knew she was lying, that the question of her independence had been a determining factor in their divorce. “I—I’ll take care of myself, Zane. Thanks for the warning,” she heard herself say, though a part of her screamed that she was crazy to let him go—that she needed him to keep her safe. She extended her hand, palm up. “Now, I think you have something of mine?” When he didn’t move, she prodded him again. “The keys?”

Zane’s eyes darkened to the shade of storm clouds.

Her heart began to pound. He wasn’t giving up. She could see his determination in the set of his jaw.

“How about a deal?” he suggested, not moving.

“Believe me, I’m not in the mood.”

“The keys for a date.”

“For a date? Get real—”

“I am, Kaylie. You go out with me, just for old times’ sake, and I’ll turn the keys over to you.”

“And in the meantime you won’t make an extra set?”

“We’ll go tonight. I won’t have time to do anything so devious.”

Kaylie wasn’t so sure. And she was tempted, far more than she wanted to be. Standing so close to Zane, seeing the shading of his eyes, feeling the raw masculinity that was so uniquely his, she was lured into the prospect of spending some time with him again. There had been a time in her life when he’d been everything. From bodyguard to lover to husband. Her life with him had seemed so natural, so right…until the horrid night when their safe little world was thrown upside down. All because of Lee Johnston.

Kaylie had fallen in love with Zane, trusted him, relied upon him. Now her throat grew dry, and she shook all the happy memories aside. She couldn’t trust herself when she thought of the first magic moments they’d shared—when their love had been new and fresh, before Zane had become so intolerably overprotective and domineering. No. Her dependence on him was long over. Now she was older, and wiser, and on to his tricks. She wouldn’t repeat past mistakes. “I don’t think a date would be such a good idea.”

“Come on, Kaylie, what’ve you got to lose?” he asked, his voice low and disturbingly familiar.

Everything she thought, her palms beginning to sweat.

“You’ve got other plans tonight?” he asked.

“No—”

“No date with Alan?” he mocked, obviously referring to the ridiculous article in The Insider. Her producer had left a copy of the rag on her desk as a joke. She wasn’t engaged to Alan and never would be, but no amount of denial to the press had seemed to change the public’s view that she and Alan, who had once been costars of Obsession and were now cohosts of a popular morning show, were not lovers.

“No date with Alan,” she said dryly.

“Then there’s no reason not to spend a little time with me. Come on,” he insisted, his smile irresistible.

“But—” Why not? It’s just a few hours, a voice inside her head teased. Wouldn’t it be nice to rely on him just a little and find out what he really knows about Lee Johnston? What could it hurt? She looked up at him and swallowed hard. There was a tiny part of her, a feminine part she tried to deny, that loved Zane’s image of power and brooding masculinity, that being around him did make her feel warm inside. But being around Zane was unsafe—her emotions were still much too raw.

“Let’s go. I know a great place in the mountains. You can tell me all about your career as a talk-show hostess and maybe you’ll be able to convince me that you’ll take all the precautions necessary to keep you safe from Johnston.”

“Okay,” she finally agreed, telling herself she wasn’t excited about the prospect of spending time with him. “But I’ll need time to change.”

“I’ll wait,” he said amiably as he walked back to the bar. She watched him pour a drink, as she’d watched him a hundred times before. His shirt was a dark blue. His sleeves were pushed over his forearms to expose dark-skinned muscles that moved fluidly as he handled the bottle and glass. And his hands… She shouldn’t even look at his long, sensual fingers and blunt-cut nails.

She swallowed hard against the memories—erotic memories that she’d hoped she’d forgotten. His gaze found hers in the mirror over the bar, and he smiled a little sexy smile. Her insides quivered.

Turning quickly, before she stared any longer, she headed for the bedroom and told herself that she was a fool, but now that she’d committed herself, somehow she’d get through the evening ahead.

Chapter Two

Zane tried to ignore the disturbing sensations—sensations that were way out of line. Kaylie was his ex-wife for crying out loud, and here he was, pouring himself another drink, feeling like a teenager in the throes of lust. Returning to this house—this cottage by the sea where he and Kaylie had spent hours making love—had probably been a mistake of colossal proportions, but he’d had no choice. Not if he wanted his plan to work. And he did. More than anything.

After the divorce he’d promised himself he’d give her room to grow. When he’d married her she’d been nineteen, and the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. Blond and tanned, slim and coy. Her laugh had been special, her touch divine.

Though he’d fought his attraction to her, he couldn’t resist the wide innocence in her eyes, the genuine smile that curved her lips, her ingenious wit, though it was often used at his expense. His hands tightened around his glass as he remembered the scent of her perfume, the feel of her skin rubbing against his, the wonder of looking down into her eyes as he’d made love to her. And it had all changed the night a maniac had held a knife to her beautiful throat.

Now Kaylie was beautiful but mature, her humor sharper, her sarcasm biting. Yet he still wanted her—more than a man with any sense should want a woman.

And now her life was threatened.

Paralyzing fear gripped him. Living without her had been hell. He’d just have to convince her that they belonged together. Hearing the bedroom door open, he turned, and his throat went desert dry.

She was dressed in a white off-the-shoulder dress, her blond curls swept away from one side of her face, her eyes glinting with a gloriously seductive green light. “Okay, cowboy, this is your ride. Where’re we going?”

The line was from one of her movies—she’d said it to him as well, late at night, when they had been alone in bed. Had she remembered? Undoubtedly. Zane’s diaphragm pressed hard against his lungs. “It’s a surprise.”

She tilted her head at an angle. “Well, it had better be a short surprise. I have to get up at five tomorrow to tape the show.”

“I’ll have you back by ten,” he lied, pretending ease as he snagged his scuffed jacket off the back of the couch and walked with her to the front door.

He reached for the knob, but she laid a hand across his. “This is all on the up and up, isn’t it? One dinner and then you’ll hand over the keys?”

His gut twisted. “That was the bargain.”

“Then I’ll trust you,” she said, the corners of her beautiful mouth relaxing.

He felt a twinge of guilt at deceiving her, but shrugged it off as he opened the door and she swept outside ahead of him. He’d played by her rules long enough. Now it was time she played by his.

* * *

Kaylie was nervous as a cat when, as they walked outside, she discovered a large brown and black shepherd lying on the porch. “Who are you?”

“Man’s best friend. Right, Franklin?” Zane said, whistling as he opened the back door of the Jeep and the dog leaped inside.

“You bring him on all your dates?” she teased.

He flicked her an interested glance. “My chaperone,” he drawled. “Just to keep you in line.”

“Me?” she replied, but grinned as she slid into the passenger side. Maybe this date wouldn’t turn out to be the disaster she’d predicted.

Casting a glance in his direction as he climbed behind the wheel, she realized that he would never change. He’d always be strong, arrogant, determined, stubborn and self-righteous. But funny, she reminded herself. He had been blessed with a sense of humor.

Still, she was uneasy. She’d seen his mouth turn down when she’d quoted one of his favorite lines from an old movie. She’d done it on purpose, to check his reaction. He’d tried to hide his surprise, but she’d noticed the ghost of change in his eyes.

So why hadn’t she refused to get into the Jeep with him?

Kaylie cast her eyes about, not wanting to confront her actions. A part of her was still intrigued with him. And she’d been lonely in the past seven years. She’d missed him far more than she’d ever admit. Yes, she couldn’t handle the way he’d overreacted and tried to treat her like some fragile possession, but she’d missed his smile. She recalled it now with bittersweet poignancy, how that lazy slash of white would gleam against a darkened jaw as she’d awakened in his arms.

Her heart pounded at the memory, and she silently cursed herself for being a nostalgic idiot. So she missed his sexy looks, his playful grin, his presence in her house.

He headed east, leaving the sun to cast a few dying rays over the darkening waters of the Pacific. The sky had turned a dusky shade of lavender, reflected in the restless sea.

Zane drove without saying much, but she could sense him watching her, smell the clean earthy scent of his aftershave. She’d been crazy to agree to this, she decided. She was much too aware of him.

“Why did we leave the city?” she asked, to break the awkward silence stretching between them.

“Because I discovered a place you’ll like.”

“In Kansas?”

His sensual lips twitched. “Not quite.”

“So let me get this straight. You thought, ‘Gee, Lee Johnston’s about to be released from the hospital—this would be a great time to break into Kaylie’s house and take her to dinner in some restaurant in Timbuktu.’”

He grinned. “You’re astounding, Kaylie. The way you read me like a book,” he said sarcastically. “You know, that’s exactly what I thought!”

She rolled her eyes and held her tongue for the rest of the journey.

Two hours later, Kaylie’s stomach rumbled as she stepped out of his Jeep and eyed the restaurant he’d chosen. She’d expected him to take her to one of their old haunts along the waterfront in Carmel where they could eat seafood and laugh, drink a little wine and remember the good times—the few carefree times they’d shared as man and wife. When he’d mentioned the mountains, her interest had been piqued.

This place, this ivy-covered, two-storied house that looked as if it had been built before the turn of the century, wasn’t like Zane at all. Mystified, she walked up the worn steps to a wide plank porch. A few rockers moved with the wind, and leaves in the surrounding maple and ash trees rustled as they turned with the breeze. Quaint, she thought. And so unlike Zane.

She eyed him from beneath her lashes, but his strong features seemed relaxed, his face handsome and rakish, one thatch of dark hair falling over his eyes. He shoved the wayward lock from his forehead, but it fell back again, making him look less than perfect and all the more wonderful.

Get a grip, she reminded herself as they walked into the old house and Zane tied Franklin to a tree near the entrance.